The elderly man exhaled sharply, patience gone. “Enough of this.” The knife appeared slowly, deliberately—steel catching the light as he stepped toward Emma. Close enough now that she could see his hand trembling, not with fear, but with intent. The crowd froze. Someone sobbed. No one moved.
Rex did. He burst through the open doors like a streak of black lightning, a flash of muscle and instinct, moving faster than thought. One second the man was advancing, the next, he was on the ground. Rex hit him full-force, slamming into his chest with trained precision. The knife flew loose, skidding across the floor.