The team locked
The team meticulously secured the containment box, locking each latch with a precise snap and double-checking all seals. Their movements were practiced but not without tension, as if the creature inside might strike again at any moment. George hovered close, overseeing the process with furrowed brows. “Make sure every latch is secure,” he ordered, his voice tight with urgency.
From her chair, Martha watched the team move with sharp efficiency, but her heart still beat like a drum. Her eyes were fixed on the box as if it might suddenly burst open. “Is it really safe?” she asked, half to herself. One of the team members turned to her and offered a nod. “We’ve got it under control,” they said—but something in their eyes made her stomach twist with doubt.
