Timely Help

Parker was out cold in the driver's seat of his Lamborghini Revuelto, head tilted awkwardly against the leather headrest, breath slow and uneven. The car was silent, save for the faint ticking of the engine cooling down after its earlier sprint. His face was pale, the slightest twitch in his brow the only sign he was alive—and hurting.

It wasn't just exhaustion.

His mind felt shredded, his body a raw nerve. Omni Energy—his telekinesis—he'd pushed too far, too hard. Every pulse of pain was like a hammer against his skull, relentless, stabbing. His soul felt like it was tearing at the seams, as if someone had grabbed the edges of his existence and twisted. Robert hadn't just restrained him—he'd done something deeper, darker.

A sudden, violent roar shook the garage.