Beastmaster Dad Livestreams His Daughter's Peril

When Bernard Talbot, the zoo director, finally tracked me down, I was focused on holding up my phone and live-streaming.

The comments on the screen were scrolling past at lightning speed.

"Holy shit! A livestream of someone falling into the tiger enclosure? Dude, you're a legend!"

"How did that kid fall in? Poor thing!"

"Why is he just filming instead of helping? Where's the rescue team?"

"Keep it steady, man! Sending you a galaxy right now! This exclusive angle is insane!"

I ignored the comments, regardless of whether they were rushing me or expressing concern.

Complying with a request from my top donor, I zoomed in a bit closer, bringing the shivering, tiny figure huddled beneath the artificial rock formation into focus.

"Mr. Sheffield, there's been an accident!" Bernard yelled. "The child who fell into the tiger enclosure is your daughter! The tiger could be startled and head over there at any moment. It's an absolute worst-case scenario. Her chances of survival are slim to none!"

I slowly lowered my phone and looked at him.

"I know," I said.

Bernard froze. He clearly hadn't expected this reaction.

"We need you!" he urged frantically. "You're an elite animal behaviorist, the only person in the world who can communicate with apex predators. You're the only one who can command that tiger to stay back and cooperate with our rescue team! You are that little girl's only hope!"

Calmly, I raised my phone again, aimed the camera toward the rock formation, and continued my stream.

"Sorry, my hands are tied."

"What?"

"I said, my hands are tied," I repeated, my voice flat.

"Tristan, have you lost your mind? Your daughter is down there. That's a tiger! She could be torn to shreds at any second!"

Bernard's furious roar echoed through the live stream. The chat, which had just been buzzing with donations and excitement, instantly froze.

"What? That's his daughter? Tell me I didn't just hear that right."

"Holy crap! Is a father live-streaming his own daughter being fed to a tiger? Is this guy out of his mind?"

"You absolute monster! Even wild beasts look after their young. You're no better than an animal!"

"Did this sick bastard throw her in himself just to go viral?"

"I'm calling the cops! Someone lock this piece of trash up right now!"

I glanced at the fast-scrolling barrage of insults, and the corner of my mouth twitched into a barely perceptible smirk.

"My wife, Madeline Cross, shares a deeper bond with our daughter than I do," I interrupted Bernard. "And when it comes to handling predators, she's the best animal behaviorist in the country. She's the expert you should be looking for."

Bernard seized my arm in disbelief.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he roared. "Of course, we tried her! But her phone went straight to voicemail."

I let out a soft laugh. "I know."

With that, I brushed his hand off and walked away, tuning him out completely.

Left with no choice, he stomped his foot on the ground in frustration, cursing up a storm as he ran toward the rescue scene.

The world finally fell silent.

A few minutes later, a specific, persistent ringtone started blaring from my pocket. It was my father, Randall Sheffield.

I answered the call.

"Tristan, why are you just standing by and playing spectator? Harper is down in that pit!"

He didn't even say hello, ripping into me with a voice thick with fury.

"Dad, I already told the director to get hold of Madeline. She's the pro," I said.

Randall's voice grew increasingly frantic. "I can't get through to her! She isn't answering!"

I chuckled, keeping my tone light and casual. "Oh, that makes sense. She might be tied up right now, or she's probably with someone important."

On the other end of the line, Randall's breath caught in his throat.

Then came a thunderous explosion of anger. "What the hell are you talking about? Harper is your daughter! Don't you dare try to pass the buck!"

"Oh, really?"

I feigned surprise. "Then I guess my mind is playing tricks on me."

"You—"