Clearing the bay
Gradually, the docks emptied. Reporters reluctantly lowered cameras, grumbling as they departed. Scientists closed notebooks, glaring at Harper but packing equipment anyway. Small boats pushed away, scattering back across the bay. Harper watched them retreat, keeping his expression firm and unreadable. This wasn’t about making friends. It was about control. Only when the waters cleared of unwanted spectators did Harper finally exhale and turn back toward his men on deck.
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