The Attack That Wasn’t an Attack
The crowd screamed.
Security surged forward.
But what happened next wasn’t violence.
It was control.
Ajax didn’t bite.
Didn’t maul.
He pinned Whitaker to the stage, paws firm against his chest, growl low and measured.
A warning.
Not an assault.
Microphones captured Whitaker’s panic.
The mask cracked.
Ethan stepped forward.
Hands raised.
Voice steady.
“Stand down.”
Ajax obeyed instantly.
The plaza fell completely silent.
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