You're a US police officer, what are you thinking about going back to the East for?

Sterling showed no impatience, nor did he sternly shoo people away like some hardline sheriffs do.

Instead, she wore a perfectly standard, even somewhat alluring, professional smile.

She's probably... well, she takes very good care of herself, she looks like she's only in her early twenties, but you'd probably have to ask her directly for her real age.

Her long, golden hair was styled in a bun, revealing her slender neck. Her makeup was flawless, and even in this chaotic storm, her lipstick remained as vibrant as if she had just stepped out of a dressing room.

She was wearing a uniform that had clearly been carefully altered by a tailor to fit her figure perfectly.

The dark blue uniform shirt was perfectly tailored to accentuate her already ample bust and waist-to-hip ratio, making her stand out among the group of drab men with a mature feminine charm mixed with the restrained allure of the uniform.

"Everyone, please be careful, the road is slippery."

Her voice was soft and gentle, with an inexplicable charm. As she spoke, she even reached out to help a young reporter who almost slipped.

"Our public relations department will hold a press conference in two hours to provide a detailed report on the case."

"Please make way for the ambulance, that would be a life-saving passage, okay?"

The group of reporters actually obediently made way for them.

Sergeant Danfoss, who was cursing and spitting at reporters by the police line, quickly wiped the rain and mud off his face when he saw his superior arrive and jogged over.

"Chief."

Danfoss gave a somewhat embarrassed salute.

Sterling turned his head slightly, his azure eyes sweeping over Danvers, then glancing at Leon from afar, before looking away and asking in a low voice.

"That... is that Vance?"

"It's Vance, Chief."

Danfoss nodded, looking somewhat nervous. "The situation was urgent; I gave the order..."

"well done."

Sterling interrupted him, a slight smile playing on his lips as he gently smoothed his wind-blown sideburns. His tone was calm. "Very decisive, very...powerful."

She turned around again, facing the group of reporters who were still reluctant to leave, and her smile became even brighter.

"In addition, I know everyone is concerned about the condition of the injured police officer."

She raised her voice slightly to make sure everyone could hear her.

"I just got here from Harbourview Medical Centre. Our hero, Officer Bob, had a very successful surgery and is out of danger."

"Shouldn't we all be focusing on how our brave police officers are protecting the city in this torrential rain?"

"Thank God..."

Upon hearing this, Danfoss visibly relaxed, his whole body slumping slightly.

Lyon, who was not far away, could not hear what they were saying very clearly, but the key phrase "out of danger" still reached his ears.

A weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

Then, Lyon narrowed his eyes and sized up the female director who was wearing ankle boots.

To be honest, he wasn't very familiar with this branch chief.

In his memories of the past two years since he traveled here, Director Sterling rarely appeared at such chaotic frontline scenes.

She appears more often on television news or at charity galas at the city hall.

There are rumors circulating within the bureau that she is a typical "parachuted-in" type.

If you trace your family back three generations, they've all been high-ranking police officers, or they have some kind of unclear or ambiguous family relationship with members of parliament.

Anyway, she definitely wasn't a grassroots officer who worked her way up from the rank of patrol officer and ate donuts and drank cold coffee on the street every day.

Look at her hands, so white and tender, without a single callus. They don't look like she's ever handled a gun.

The uniform she wore looked more like a lingerie set than a bulletproof vest or a protective gear set.

She doesn't give off the impression of a police officer; she's more like a shrewd public relations manager or a female executive at a large company.

But I have to admit, this woman is something else.

In such a chaotic scene, being able to calm down those reporters who were more troublesome than mad dogs with just a few words, while also elevating the police station's image, is far superior to Danfoss, who only knows how to physically confront reporters.

After dealing with the reporters, Sterling did not get into the car and leave.

Ignoring the mud under her feet, she walked straight toward where Lyon, Hobbs, and the FBI agent were standing.

Federal Agent Hayes clearly felt that, as a senior FBI agent, he should be at the heart of this conversation.

He straightened his tie, which had been ruffled by the wind, put on an official smile, and extended his right hand first.

"Chief Sterling, this is Richard Hayes, FBI..."

Before he could finish speaking, his hand hung awkwardly in mid-air.

Sterling acted as if he hadn't seen the man at all, not even sparing him a glance.

She glided past Hayes, leaving a trail of fragrance, and stood directly in front of Lyon.

Hayes' smile froze on his face, his hand caught in a dilemma – neither extending nor retracting it.

Finally, with a dark face, he angrily put his hands back in his pockets, snorted coldly, and turned to walk towards the area where the wounded were being treated, clearly not wanting to stay there any longer and humiliate himself.

Sterling didn't care at all, standing in front of Lyon and tilting his head slightly.

Although she was wearing high-heeled boots, she still had to look up at Lyon's height.

To be honest, Leon's appearance at this moment was not very good. He was soaking wet, his bulletproof vest was covered in mud, his hair was wet and stuck to his forehead, and his face had oil stains from who-knows-where.

But Sterling showed no sign of disapproval.

She slowly reached out and gently placed her hand on Lyon's collar.

Lyon instinctively wanted to take a half step back, a defensive instinct, but he forcibly restrained himself.

Sterling didn't do anything out of line; he simply reached out and gently straightened Leon's collar, which had been bent over from the intense driving, and then straightened his crooked epaulets.

"Officer Lyon..."

Her voice was soft, her tone ambiguous, and it was impossible to discern what she meant.

"It's a mess... but well done, that's the kind of guy I need."

Leon looked down at the woman.

At such close range, he could smell a faint fragrance emanating from her, a mixture of some high-end perfume and the damp scent of rain. His eyes narrowed slightly, unable to discern her intentions.

"It's my duty, Director."

Leon subtly stepped back half an inch, maintaining a safe distance, not letting the sudden intimacy overwhelm him.

"Those guys almost killed my brother, I can't let them get away."

Tell me about it.

Sterling withdrew his hand and crossed his arms over his chest. "The specific process, not the dry text in a report."

"It's nothing complicated."

Lyon gestured with his chin towards the still-smoking wreckage of the Mustang. "They run, and I chase them."

"The Mustang has a lot of horsepower, but that kid's skills aren't as good as mine."

"When we got to the entrance of the approach bridge, these lunatics tried to squeeze into the crowd and force their way through the checkpoint, so I hit one of them with a 'PIT'."

"The speed was 110 kilometers per hour at the time."

"Then they hit the roadblock, I got through, it's that simple."

After he finished speaking, he subconsciously glanced to the side. Hobbes, who had been standing there like a gatekeeper, had somehow gone off to check the equipment with his men, leaving the space to him and the branch chief.

Lyon withdrew his gaze, looked at Sterling, and suddenly added:

"Even if Hobbs' men don't arrive in time, I can still force them to stop at that bend, or just ram them into the sea."

"The ending is the same, only the ending is a little more tragic now, but I assure you, it's a necessary sacrifice."

Sterling listened to Lyon's arrogant remarks without refuting them or thinking he was bragging.

Clearly, she had already learned of the horrific scene and Lyon's inhuman actions through the car radio or Hobbs's reports before she arrived.

The more understated Lyon's description became, the more expressive her face became.

The originally professional smile gradually changed, the corners of her mouth turned up uncontrollably, and a strange flush even appeared on her cheeks.

This is exactly what she wanted.