Chapter 442

The city slept soundly, unaware of the monster that lurched in the shadows, waiting for its moment. The lion had always been a spectacle at the zoo—its presence a testament to wild beauty, but it had become more.

For years, it lived behind iron bars, pacing in circles, its eyes wide and feral. It was a creature born of instinct, of nature's cruelty, caged by human hands. But a lion, in captivity or freedom, never forgot its nature.

Jonah worked the night shift at the city zoo. It was a dead hour. Nothing ever happened during the night. It was the graveyard shift—cold, lonely, and long.

He'd always hated the isolation. The empty paths, the distant noises of the night, the way the darkness closed in on you from all sides. But it was a job. And jobs were necessary.

Jonah was used to the lion. He'd worked at the zoo long enough to understand its habits. It was predictable, restless.

When the zoo lights were off and the park was quiet, the lion would prowl its enclosure, pacing, growling low under its breath. Jonah would check the cages now and then, a routine so ingrained that his mind barely noticed the tasks anymore. But that night, something was different.

It started as a soft noise. Something small. A click of metal. A creak. Jonah barely noticed it at first, too lost in the monotony of his rounds.

But the sound became more distinct—louder. Jonah's heart rate spiked as his feet carried him closer to the lion's enclosure. The noise was unmistakable now, a scraping, grinding sound.

The locks.

Jonah's blood ran cold. He was at the lion's cage, staring at the massive metal gate. The lock had been tampered with. Not just tampered with, broken. It was hanging loose, swinging gently in the night breeze. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The lion was loose.

Before he could react, the low growl vibrated the air. It was deep, guttural, filled with hunger. Jonah didn't think. He turned and ran.

His breath came fast and ragged as he sprinted toward the exit. The zoo's silence was broken by the thunderous roar of the lion behind him. Jonah's heart slammed against his ribs. The sound of paws hitting the ground—heavy, fast—chased him, drawing closer.

His legs burned as he ran faster, but he knew it was pointless. The lion's speed, its power—he was no match. He had to warn the city. People had to know.

He didn't stop running until he was outside the zoo grounds, gasping for air, his thoughts a blur of terror. The night was cold, the streets empty. No one. Just the faint sound of wind rustling through the trees. Jonah stumbled, nearly falling. He glanced behind him but saw nothing.

It was too quiet.

Then the scream pierced the stillness. A woman's shrill cry. Jonah's blood ran colder than the night air. His instinct told him to hide, to run, but he had to warn someone. He had to do something.

The streetlights cast long shadows across the pavement as he sprinted toward the sound. The streets were eerily empty, but the terror in the woman's voice drove him forward. He turned a corner and saw her—lying in the middle of the road, blood pooling around her body.

Her face was frozen in terror, eyes wide and glassy. The woman's throat had been torn open. The skin of her chest and back was shredded. Jonah couldn't breathe. He stepped back, nearly stumbling over the broken asphalt beneath his feet.

The lion's roar rumbled through the night again, even closer now. It echoed off the walls of the nearby buildings, reverberating through Jonah's bones. He didn't have time to think. He just ran, away from the body, away from the roar, toward the safety of the distant city. But there was no safety.

The city was still silent—too silent. It wasn't supposed to be like this. People weren't supposed to be dead in the streets. He could hear the soft rustle of leaves, the distant sound of the wind. He should've been hearing cars, voices, some sign of life. But the streets stretched endlessly before him, empty and cold. He was alone.

Then, he saw more bodies. A man, his body twisted unnaturally, his eyes staring out in horror. Another woman, her clothes ripped and torn. The blood was everywhere—on the ground, in the air, in the walls. It painted the city a dark, horrifying shade. Jonah's stomach churned, but he kept running, though his legs felt like they might give out any second.

And then it happened again. The roar. A sound of such power that it rattled his bones. Jonah froze, terror locking his body in place. His eyes darted around, looking for any sign of where it was coming from. The lion. The beast that had broken free from its cage. It was hunting.

The ground trembled beneath his feet as the lion appeared from the alley. Its eyes locked onto Jonah. For a second, Jonah stood still, paralyzed, unable to move.

The lion was massive, its fur matted, stained with blood. It looked less like a wild animal and more like a thing of nightmares. Its mouth was open, and Jonah could see the sharpness of its teeth. The lion's growl vibrated the ground, a promise of death.

Jonah turned, but it was too late. The lion leaped, its paws slamming into his chest, knocking the air out of him. Jonah gasped, his vision spinning. The lion's teeth sank into his flesh, tearing through his shoulder like paper.

Blood poured out, warm and thick, pooling beneath him. He screamed, but the sound was swallowed by the lion's growl.

He couldn't move. His body was paralyzed with pain, with fear. The lion shook him, its massive jaws ripping into his skin, tearing apart his arm. Jonah's mind was blank, a haze of agony clouding his thoughts. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. Every movement of the lion's jaws felt like fire.

The city was silent again. Nothing but the heavy breathing of the lion and the distant, haunting calls of other creatures in the night. Jonah's vision darkened, his eyes rolling back into his head. He could feel his life slipping away, the coldness of death settling in.

He thought of the people he had seen—the bodies scattered around the streets. They, too, were all part of the lion's deadly game.

The pain was unbearable, but Jonah could do nothing. He couldn't escape. He couldn't run. The lion's weight on his chest, its teeth in his flesh, its claws in his skin—it was too much.

Then, the lion stopped. For a moment, it simply stared down at Jonah. Its golden eyes met his, unblinking, unfeeling. The lion's breath came in ragged, slow bursts as it stepped away from Jonah's mangled body. Jonah's breath was shallow now, each intake of air more desperate than the last.

The lion's massive form loomed over him for a moment before it turned and disappeared into the night.

Jonah's body was broken. His limbs were unrecognizable, his chest torn apart, his blood staining the ground beneath him. And yet, the terror lingered, the realization that the city was no longer his. It wasn't anyone's. Not anymore.

As Jonah took his final breath, the city around him remained eerily quiet. The lion had claimed it all—every street, every building, every life. And there was nothing left but death, silence, and the slowly spreading scent of blood.

The lion's hunt had only just begun.