Chapter 2: The Calm Before the Storm
Harry didn't answer. He couldn't. His hands hovered over his sister, trembling for a fraction of a second before he braced her neck, his focus shifting entirely to her vitals. He checked the pulse at her wrist, his eyes scanning for head trauma, his movements clinical and precise.
He lifted his head slowly. The panic that had ignited his eyes had been replaced by something far more terrifying: a chilling, controlled, and absolute fury. It was the look of a predator who had just discovered his pack had been threatened. He locked eyes with Julianne, who was standing three steps above them, her chest heaving, her hands still trembling from the adrenaline of the assault.
"You picked the wrong courthouse," Harry said. His voice wasn't loud, but it possessed a weight that seemed to suck the oxygen out of the surrounding air.
Julianne’s confidence, usually an impenetrable fortress, suffered its first hairline fracture. She looked around, expecting the usual indifference of a city crowd. Instead, she saw the environment changing. A senior partner from a top-tier law firm had stopped dead in his tracks. A security officer nearby had placed his hand on his holster, his eyes widening in sudden, panicked recognition.
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The whispers began to ripple through the crowd—names like "Sterling," "Venture," and "Blacklist." The bystanders didn't look at Julianne; they looked at Harry, their faces pale, their respect curdling into an instinctive, fight-or-flight terror.
"...Who are you?" Julianne asked, her voice hitching, the hesitancy cutting through her vanity.
