A pool of dark crimson blood immediately began to form beneath her silver hair. She lay completely still.
"No, Clara!" Henry shrieked, his voice tearing at his vocal cords. He gripped the wheels of his chair desperately, trying to push himself down the slight incline of the doorway to get to her, but his panicked, shaking hands slipped. The wheelchair tipped, sending Henry spilling hard onto the concrete, his paralyzed legs tangled beneath him.
He dragged his upper body across the rough pavement, scraping his forearms raw, his eyes locked on his bleeding wife.
"Look what you made us do," Troy muttered, brushing off his knuckles with a sickening lack of remorse. "Should have just signed the paper."
Henry pulled himself up onto one elbow, his face streaked with tears and dirt, his heart pounding in a rhythm of absolute terror and helpless rage. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs to the absolute breaking point, and let out a roar that seemed to tear the very sky apart.
"They beat my wife. Help! They beat my wife!"
His voice was a raw, jagged weapon of grief. It bounced off the brick buildings, rattling the windows of the apartments above. Passersby at the end of the block stopped, staring in horror. But seeing the massive Evans brothers standing over the bleeding woman and the fallen elder, nobody moved. Fear kept them frozen.
George sneered, walking over to the fallen veteran. He raised his heavy steel-toed boot, preparing to kick Henry back down to the ground. "Shut up, old man. Nobody is coming to save you."
But George was wrong.
Before George's boot could connect with Henry's ribs, a deep rhythmic vibration began to rattle the loose pebbles on the asphalt. It started as a low, guttural hum in the distance, a frequency that vibrated directly into the chest cavity. Within seconds, the hum amplified into a deafening, earth-shaking roar. The Evans brothers froze.