After a mont of crying and whispered reassurances, the woman finally composed herself and turned her head toward Rex. Her eyes, still glassy with tears, now held a fire that hadn’t been there before. The transformation was so sudden, so complete, that even Rex found himself montarily stunned. Just monts ago, she had been a crying mother, fragile and trembling. Now, she stood like a queen surveying her battlefield, every trace of softness replaced with razor-sharp resolve. Her voice cut through the air, crisp and commanding.
"Put your guns away" she ordered her n, her tone leaving no room for argunt. Even though the guns were now lowered, they weren’t holstered. The guards still held them loosely in their hands, fingers close to the trigger, eyes sweeping the scene like hawks. A few of them continued to cast cautious glances at Rex, their wariness not yet fully dispelled. no room for argunt. "Can’t you see the situation?"
The black-clad guards froze for a fraction of a second before snapping into motion. They obeyed imdiately, stepping back and buckling their weapons in perfect sync, though a few still cast tense glances at Rex and his n. So bowed their heads slightly—whether out of sha, submission, or perhaps sheer embarrassnt, Rex couldn’t quite tell.
Victor and Kaalan exchanged quick glances, clearly still tense. Their eyes flicked from the guards to Rex, then to the woman and Arabella—trying to piece it together. Rex gave a small nod, more confident this ti. That was all it took. They eased their stances, putting their weapons away with practiced caution, though their eyes kept sweeping the periter. Just in case.
The woman stood upright again, keeping Arabella close, her fingers gently curled around the girl’s hand. With graceful strides, she walked toward Rex. Every step she took was calm, but purposeful. Her presence, now that she wasn’t crying, was even more striking.
"Thank you," she said softly, though her voice carried undeniable authority. There was a weight in those two words—sothing raw and genuine beneath the poise. "I don’t even know how to—"
Rex shook his head and offered a wry half-smile. "It’s alright. Anyone would’ve done the sa."
Arabella clearly disagreed.
"Mom! He’s like the superhero you told about!" she chirped, tugging on her mother’s coat with one hand while waving the other dramatically. "He ca zoom! Then boom! Then—dishoom! Schoom! Just like the movies!"
She bounced on her heels, making sound effects that could rival any action flick. Her imitation was so over-the-top it managed to crack a small laugh out of Rex, and the woman even smiled through her tears.
"It wasn’t really like that," Rex said modestly, rubbing the back of his neck.
Just then, one of the suited bodyguards approached the woman and leaned in, whispering into her ear. Her expression shifted instantly.
Warmth vanished. Authority surged.
Her back straightened. Her eyes narrowed.
She turned toward the crashed car still smoldering near the curb.
A group of bystanders had managed to pull the driver out—a middle-aged man, disheveled and reeking of alcohol. Amazingly, he was unhard, but instead of expressing gratitude, he began shouting and cursing, even kicking at one of the young n who had helped drag him from the wreck.
Rex followed the woman’s gaze, watching the scene unfold.
He didn’t need to be told.
Judging by the glint in her eyes and the way the bodyguards started moving before she even gave a formal command, he could already guess what was going to happen to that guy.
And it wasn’t going to be pleasant.
At the edge of the chaos, the police officers finally began to approach, no longer hiding behind their cruiser. Their steps were tentative, careful. But just as they neared the periter, several of the woman’s guards stepped forward, cutting off the approach like a living wall.
"That’s far enough," one of them said, voice firm but calm.
The officers froze, hands halfway to their belts.
The lead officer raised an eyebrow. "We need to assess the scene. There’s a crash and a public disturbance—"
"Handled," the guard replied coldly. "No further involvent needed."
It wasn’t a request. It was a command.
And the cops, perhaps wisely, didn’t press.
This was LA. They’d seen enough to know when they were out of their league.
....
The woman then took a deep breath and looked back at Rex, her expression softening slightly again.
"I’m Vivienne Sterling," she said, her voice now calr, though it still carried the undertone of authority. "Arabella’s mother."
Rex nodded. Sohow, the na suited her. Elegant. Powerful. And fitting, considering the way even hardened guards bowed to her command.
Vivienne glanced down at Arabella, brushing a strand of hair from the girl’s face. "We were shopping nearby. It was just the two of us. No guards. I thought... just for once, a little normalcy."
Rex didn’t ask what the normalcy was, but looking at hordes of bodyguards, he could sohow imagine the situation.
Viviene continued, her lips curled into a half-sad smile, but it didn’t last. "I looked away for one second, and she ran off. By the ti I turned around, she was gone."
She paused, and the emotion in her eyes deepened—fear, guilt, and the phantom of a thousand horrifying what-ifs. "I ran around the block like a madwoman. I didn’t even realize I’d wandered so far until I heard the commotion. Just thinking about what could’ve happened..." Her voice cracked slightly, and she gently squeezed Arabella’s hand.
"Thank you," she added, more heartfelt this ti. "From the bottom of my heart. I can’t even—"
Rex shook his head, a hint of dry humor curling at the corner of his lips. "No need for all that. Just happened to be in the right place at the right ti—luck, not heroism."
Arabella, of course, had other thoughts. She chid in seriously, sounding far too grown-up for her size.
"Mom, I wasn’t lost."
Vivienne blinked and tilted her head. "Oh? Then what happened?"
(End of Chapter)
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