Urban System in America

Monica exhaled through her nose, a bitter little laugh escaping. "Feels more like I was shoved out the door."

"Sometimes," Rex said, sitting up fully now, "that's the only way we realize the door was never locked to begin with."

She blinked, absorbing his words. There was something strangely comforting about how calm he was, like he'd walked this road before. Like betrayal, power games, and broken trust weren't foreign to him.

"You don't think I'm a fool?" she asked quietly.

Rex tilted his head slightly. "Why would I?."

"No. I mean... that I let it go this far. That I stayed blind for so long." She paused, eyes searching his face. "You don't think I'm a fool?"

He met her gaze, unwavering. "No one's blind by choice, Monica. Especially not in this industry. They groom you to believe this is normal. That you're lucky just to be invited."

She swallowed hard. The words hit too close.

"They teach you to smile through it, to swallow the doubt, to play along. And the moment you stop?" His jaw tensed again. "They call you difficult."

Monica looked down at her phone, now face-down on the bed, silent at last.

"I don't know what to do." she said.

"Then don't."

Her eyes flicked back to his. "It's not that easy."

Rex gave a half-shrug. "No. But it's possible. Especially if you stop fighting alone."

Something about the way he said it, casual, but meaningful… made her chest tighten.

She didn't respond immediately. She didn't need to. The silence between them wasn't empty anymore. It was full… of questions, of possibilities, of whatever came next.

Rex leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping just above a whisper. "Even though I may not be rich or powerful enough yet, I'll support you in any way you want. If you want revenge, I'll be there with you… standing beside you as you burn them to ash, while I keep adding fuel to the fire. And if you decide to move on and never look back, I'll still be by your side, helping you take each step forward."

Though let's be honest, he'd still destroy them in the background. Quietly. Thoroughly. He sneered inwardly. If this had been earlier, before they had slept together, maybe he could've just shrugged and kept his distance. But now? Now that she had opened up to him, now that their bodies had tangled in something raw and real. As a man, it was only right to stand by her, to protect her pride, her future, her scars.

Honestly, he wasn't just doing it out of some moral compass either. No, there was something deeper. He had to admit that, he was a bit possessive.

And what was so wrong with that? Possessiveness wasn't weakness… it was instinct. The primal nature of every real male across time and species. Lions tearing into rivals to guard their pride. Wolves staking claim to their mate with blood and fang. Eagles soaring alone but fiercely loyal to their chosen one. Even silverback gorillas… calm until provoked, would rip apart anything that came near what was theirs.

That was nature. That was power.

Of course, he excluded the modern breed of men… the ones who pretended indifference, masking cowardice behind the word 'open-minded.' Men who claimed to share their women, celebrated infidelity in the name of progress, pretending that boundaries were outdated.

He scoffed. Open-minded, his ass. It was just weakness or outright bullshit. Heck! Even that may be giving them too much credit, in reality they were worse than ratshit. Letting go of something you love without a fight wasn't virtue. It was failure.

And he didn't plan on failing, not in this life, as he had already decided to live doing whatever he wanted. It didn't matter whether others approved or not…even if the whole world condemned him, he wouldn't bat an eye.

Let the world label him what it liked. He'd walk his own path, true to the fire in his chest.

That was the only thing that mattered, being true to himself. Not to society's illusions, not to plastic expectations or labels. Just raw, honest, untamed self.

And that's what made a man truly a man… or a woman, truly a woman.

Not obedience. Not silence. But having the guts to live out loud. To live, love, rage, fail, and rise again… not by someone else's rules, but by their own.

He didn't say any of that aloud, of course. But the fire in his eyes said enough.

And for the first time in a long while, Monica didn't feel like she was standing at the edge of a cliff alone.

Maybe it was reckless to trust someone this quickly. Maybe it was stupid. But wasn't that what life had been lacking? A little madness. A little faith.

Her eyes glistened, but she didn't cry.

"You don't pity me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No. I respect you." he said, with a quiet firmness that left no room for doubt.

She looked at him, really looked at him, and for a fleeting moment, all the walls she'd built until now, didn't feel necessary anymore.

And for the first time today, she took the initiative to hug… not out of need or desperation, but because something inside her recognized the rare safety of being seen.

He smiled and hugged her back without saying or doing anything frivolous… just silent, steady support.

At this moment, no words or grand gestures were needed.

It was one of those rare moments that didn't need to be dressed in poetry or promises.

His warmth bled through her skin, seeping into places that had gone cold. Her head rested lightly against his chest, and his arms stayed wrapped around her as if telling the world to back off, just for a little while longer.

In that stillness, time seemed to soften.

But just as she was starting to feel a strange sense of peace in his arms, something shifted… literally.

Monica's brow twitched. His hand, which had been perfectly respectful a moment ago, started creeping, almost sneakily, just a little lower than necessary.

She didn't move right away. At first, she thought she imagined it. So, she gave him a second. Maybe it was a mistake. A twitch. A gravity issue.

But no. There it was again, slow and sneaky like it was trying not to get caught, inching past the safe zone.

Her lips twitched. This guy. She didn't pull away, just tilted her head slightly without breaking the hug and muttered,

"Rex,"

"Hmm?" he replied, far too innocent.

She rolled her eyes, and leaned back enough to just meet his, not really angry, just amused. "Your hand's doing a whole side quest right now." He chuckled, not even pretending to deny it anymore.

"Just... making sure you're okay from all angles."

"Uh-huh, and next you'll say it's for emotional support."

"Exactly. Emotional stability starts with a solid grip." The canonical source for this content: M|V|L2EMPYR.

She let out a snort, giving him a playful shove but still not fully pulling back, because, annoying as he was, his warmth felt too comforting to give up just yet.

"Pervert," she muttered, more amused than mad, "Don't ruin the moment,"

Rex grinned, completely unrepentant. "I prefer the term multitasker."

She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with a smile she couldn't quite hide. For a brief second, it felt like they had carved out their own little pocket of peace, something soft and stupid in the middle of all the chaos.

But of course, peace didn't last long with Rex.

She felt his hand move again... slow, casual, but with very obvious intent. Her eyebrow twitched. That was his final warning.

Without saying a word, she suddenly ducked down and slipped out of his arms like a breeze, leaving him hugging nothing but air. Before he could even process what just happened, she was already a few steps away, laughing, her eyes glinting with mischief. One hand clutched the sheet around her, the other pointed at his stunned face.

"Still hugging the air, huh?" she teased, shaking her head like he was some hopeless case.

"Continue, continue," she said nonchalantly. " Anyways, I'm gonna wash up."

And with that, she turned and sauntered off, graceful, slow, deliberately teasing, like she knew exactly what she was doing. Hips swaying just a little more than necessary.

"What the—?" Rex just sat there, blinking, baffled.

But looking at her seductive back, he couldn't help muttering, "Walking temptation."

Just as she reached the washroom door, she stopped, threw a quick look over her shoulder, and narrowed her eyes.

"And don't you dare peek." She said, voice laced with mock warning.

Rex blinked absentmindedly, as he stared at her silhouette framed in the soft morning light, the sheet hugging her curves, her hair a tousled mess that somehow made her look even more unfairly beautiful. She gave him a last smirk, full of playful menace, and then turned with a subtle sway of her hips that made it absolutely clear: she was enjoying every second of this.

She didn't wait for a response—just slipped inside and shut the door with a soft click, leaving Rex frozen, arms half-lifted, still very much looking like a man robbed of his sanity.

"…I wasn't going to," he mumbled to himself, rubbing the back of his head in a dazed sort of way.

There was a pause, before Rex muttered.

"…But now I kind of want to."

He dropped back onto the bed, groaning as he buried his face into a pillow. "This girl's gonna be the death of me…"

And yet, the stupid grin spreading across his face said he didn't really mind.

(End of Chapter)