Chapter 10

Liam scanned the room, taking in his surroundings once again. Every prisoner was dressed in the same sterile white uniform—loose-fitting shirts, pants, and shoes that erased individuality with their identical appearance. The most disconcerting detail was the gray metal band on each of their wrists. He had noticed it on the others first, but now he finally glanced down at his own wrist. Sure enough, it was there—small yet heavy, fused to his skin as if it were a part of him.

A low murmur began to ripple through the room as whispers filled the air—voices too soft to rise above fear, yet loud enough to hint at desperation. The boy across from Liam shifted and then locked eyes with him.

"What's your name?" the boy asked, his voice steady despite the situation.

Liam hesitated for a moment before replying slowly, "Liam." He offered no further explanation. What was there to say? Trust was a luxury none of them could afford, yet he felt a subtle pull toward the boy.

After a beat, the boy said, "Nice to meet you, Liam. I'm Ashton." His tone was calm and confident, not a trace of fear in his eyes as he introduced himself.

Liam nodded and looked around at the others, all wearing the same uniforms, their eyes filled with quiet dread. Most kept their heads down, isolated in their own thoughts, while the tension in the air grew almost palpable.

Then a rough voice cut through the fragile silence. A burly man to Liam's right scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain.

"Forget talking to him, kid," the man growled at Liam. His face was chiseled, his voice rough as if he was used to being in charge. "He's just gonna feed delusions into your brain. Remember what I told you, Ashton—give up."

Liam turned to face the man, narrowing his eyes. The man was huge—broad shoulders, a thick neck, muscles bulging under an oversized uniform. His eyes were cold and distant, the gaze of someone who had long surrendered hope.

"You'll learn," the man continued in a low, gravelly tone. "This place? It's a cage. Just another week here, and you'll see—you're all just rats, stuck until they decide what to do next."

Ashton sighed, his eyes flickering down at the gray metal band on his wrist. Liam felt the weight of the band, its cold pressure a constant reminder that his powers—his ability to rewind time—felt unreachable now, locked away by this device.

"What's with these bands?" Liam asked quietly, his voice uncertain as he tried to mask the urgency in his thoughts.

Ashton looked up, his eyes brightening with a sudden understanding. "I think they're blocking us," he said "I've been trying to use my abilities, but it's like there's a wall in my mind. I can't focus, no matter how hard I try."

Another prisoner, a wiry man near the back of the cage, let out a bitter laugh. "You're not the only one. They put these on us for a reason. They're controlling us, keeping us weak. They know exactly what we're capable of. They're making sure we can't fight back. Whatever we could do... it's useless now."

Liam's heart skipped a beat. abilities? "You guys have powers too?"

The burly man barked out a loud, mocking laugh, the sound bouncing off the cold, sterile walls. It sent a sickening twist through Liam's gut.

"Obviously!" the man sneered. "We know you've got powers. We all do. Whether we got 'em a day ago, a week ago, or a month ago, we all end up here." His eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and something darker, as if Liam's confusion was just another part of the joke.

Liam swallowed hard, his thoughts racing.

The man smirked, shaking his head. "Let me get you up to speed, kid. We've been sitting here for weeks. At first, it was just me and the thin guy behind you. Then, more people started coming in, thrown in here like the rest of us. No explanations. No warnings. Just… here."

He stretched his arms, cracking his knuckles lazily. He tapped his own wrist, where a dull metallic band sat snugly against his skin. "Once you've got this, doesn't matter how strong you are. Powers? Gone. You're just another rat in the cage."

Liam glanced around, unease creeping into his bones. The other captives sat in silence, some slumped against the walls, others staring blankly ahead. It was as if they had already accepted whatever fate waited for them.

The burly man sighed and turned, lowering himself onto the cold floor with a grunt. "Make yourself comfortable, kid. It'll be a while."

Liam stayed where he was, his body tense, his mind spinning. He had no idea how long he'd be stuck here. No idea what came next.

Sensing his unease, Ashton shifted slightly and spoke up, his voice soft but steady. "Don't worry for now, we're safe. At least nothing's happened yet. They only act when they have a reason. But first things first—what's your power?"

Liam hesitated, sensing this, Ashton's gaze lingered on Liam for a moment before he finally spoke, his voice measured and calm. "My power?" He exhaled, tilting his head slightly as if considering how much to reveal. "I can take things from people. Not objects, not strength—something deeper. I can drain traits, senses, pieces of who someone is."

Liam's expression darkened. "What do you mean?"

Ashton's lips curved into the slightest smirk. "I could take your sight, make you blind. Or your voice, leave you silent. Your sense of touch, taste—anything that makes you you." He rolled his wrist absently, as if discussing something casual. "And the best part? It's not just taking—I can keep them, use them for myself if I want to." His smirk faded slightly as he leaned forward. "Though I don't do that unless I have to."

A chill ran through Liam, but he forced himself to hold Ashton's gaze. There was no malice there, no gloating—just a quiet certainty.

Liam swallowed. "And they put you in here too?"

Ashton chuckled. "They put all of us in here. But some of us? We're meant for bigger things." His eyes gleamed with something unreadable before he leaned back. "So, what about you?"

Liam hesitated. Should I really reveal my power? It was his trump card, his only real advantage. But looking around, at the rusted bars, the hollowed-out faces, the sheer weight of this place—he had to wonder. Will I even live long enough to use it?

He exhaled slowly. "Time travel," he said. "Self-explanatory."

A shift rippled through the room.

To Liam's right, the burly man stirred, the tension in his posture sharpening at the word time. Behind him, the wiry man rolled his shoulders and scoffed, muttering under his breath just loud enough to be heard, "Bullshit." Further down the row, the girl with the striking dark eyes—who had barely moved before—lifted her head, her gaze locking onto him, unreadable but undeniably focused.

And it wasn't just them.

Scattered throughout the prison, forgotten faces reacted in their own quiet ways. Some watched with intrigue, others with something darker—resentment, envy. A few exchanged wary glances, silent calculations running behind their eyes. A boy with shaggy hair took a half-step back in his cage, as if distance might shield him from whatever Liam had just revealed. Another, a girl with a scar tracing down her jaw, clenched her fists, her expression sharpening, already deciding if he was a threat or an opportunity.

But Ashton?

Ashton didn't flinch. If anything, his smirk deepened ever so slightly—like he had just confirmed something he already suspected.

Liam didn't realize it yet, but in that moment, he had placed himself on Ashton's radar.