Rex didn't move.
He just held Arabella closer, shifting slightly to make sure she was behind the safest part of his body. His arms wrapped her like armor.
Her small body trembled against his chest, her hands gripping his shirt like she never wanted to let go. He could feel her heartbeat—rapid, terrified, confused. And still, she didn't cry.
She just buried herself into him.
His expression didn't change—calm, but not passive. Calculating.
He turned slightly, eyes locked on the black-suited men, scanning for insignias, badges, any clue as to who the hell they were or why they were pointing weapons at him.
Nothing.
No logos. No names. Just cold professionalism.
Who were they?
Why now?
Why are they aiming at him?
Did he offend someone again?
…
The standoff dragged on, heavy and breathless.
