Xavier had given a chance to the guard to correct his mistake.
The guard's chest heaved, pride warring against survival. His eyes darted to Victor, maybe hoping for a lifeline, but Victor stayed stone-faced, arms crossed, unwilling to risk his own neck for someone beneath him. The crowd was a wall of eyes, waiting, hungry, whispering. The pressure broke him.
With a shaky exhale, the guard's knees hit the floor. The dull thud echoed across the club like a gunshot. He lowered his head, sweat dripping onto the polished surface. His voice cracked, trembling but loud enough for everyone to hear.
"I—I was wrong. I shouldn't have raised my gun and pushed you back. I apologize. Please forgive me."
Xavier tilted his chin toward Angel. "Not to me. To her."
The guard swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. He turned his head toward Angel, bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the floor. "Miss… I'm sorry. I never should have threatened you. Please… forgive me."
