Just as things had finally begun to calm—Arabella babbling on about superheroes, her tears drying into giggles—everything changed again.
The sound came first.
It started as a low rumble, barely audible at first—like distant thunder just under the skin of the world. A tremor in the calm. A murmur that grew deeper, louder, until it thrummed in the pavement itself. Deeper. Sharper. More rhythmic.
Engines. Not one. Not two.
Multiple.
Half a dozen, maybe more.
Low, smooth, coordinated.
Too smooth.
Rex turned his head slightly.
Then saw them.
A convoy. A fleet of sleek black vehicles barreling around the corner, silent but commanding, like wolves on the hunt. SUVs. Armored. Not police, not press. Something else.