REBORN My Second Life I Became The Villianess (Nyxara) novel Chapter 83

Uncle Pascal walked over, shaking his head as he kicked one of the unconscious thugs out of the way with the toe of his shoe. "I'll be damned. Where did you learn that kind of footwork?"

"Self-defense classes," I said smoothly, brushing a speck of dust off my jacket sleeve. "Since I was eight"

My dad let out a short, barking laugh that echoed off the cold concrete walls of the warehouses. He reached out, clapping a heavy hand onto my shoulder with enough force to rattle my bones.

"Get these trash bags out of the street," my dad snapped, turning his attention to the rest of the security detail who were already securing the area and zip-tying the remaining thugs who tried to run. "Take the survivors down to the lower holding rooms. I want to know which outfit put them up to this before the clock hits midnight."

"Right away, boss," one of the guards said, hauling a groaning man up by his collar and shoving him toward the back of an empty van.

As the security team swarmed over the site, cleaning up the mess with cold, mechanical efficiency, I stood there in the middle of the dark street, breathing in the smell of gunpowder and hot engine oil. The small-time rival gang thought they were making a bold statement tonight. They had no idea they just walked right into a buzzsaw.

My phone vibrated hard in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the screen. A text from Dario.

Dario: Checking in. Everything okay down there? Heard rumors about a disturbance near the eastern docks.

I let out a quiet breath, my fingers tapping out a fast reply while watching my dad oversee the cleanup.

Nyxara: Nothing to worry about. I’m safe.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket, looking out over the dark harbor as the city lights flickered across the water.

The SUVs pulled through the security gates of the main compound just twenty minutes after we left the site of the ambush. The automated steel barriers slid shut behind us with a loud, heavy metallic thud that echoed off the high concrete walls. The yard was quiet except for the low hum of backup generators and the crunch of tires on gravel as the trailing vehicles parked in their assigned bays.

Uncle Pascal killed the engine, stepping out of the front passenger seat and popping the rear door open before the dust even had time to settle. He looked in at my dad and me, shaking his head slowly like he was still trying to process what had just happened out on the dark street.

"You two stay in the car for a minute," Uncle Pascal said, his tone deadpan. "I want to make sure the receiving room downstairs is ready for our guests before we drag them inside."

My dad didn't answer right away. He just gave a short nod, and Uncle Pascal turned on his heel, marching off toward the main entrance with a couple of armed guards trailing right behind him.

The interior of the SUV was quiet. I sat back against the leather seat, rolling my shoulders to work out the lingering stiffness from the quick fight out on the pavement. My jacket had a small scuff on the sleeve where the first guy's shoulder had clipped me, but other than that, I was fine.

Dad turned his head, resting his arm along the back of the seat as he looked at me. The harsh overhead lights from the parking lot filtered through the tinted windows, casting sharp shadows across his face.

"You handled yourself out there," my dad said, his voice dropping into that calm, steady register he only used when he was being completely serious. "Most kids your age would have frozen the second a gun came out, let alone jumped out of a moving vehicle to drop two guys in ten seconds."

I met his gaze, offering a small, casual shrug. "People assume because I speak softly that I don’t know anything. Not even Dario knows I can do any of this nor does his family. I don't want anyone looking at me weirdly You always need to keep somethings hidden and private."

A real, genuine smile touched the corners of my dad's mouth. It was just a dad looking at his kid, proud in a way that felt entirely earned.

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