Laughter fills the terrace—soft music drifting under golden lights, glasses clinking, wealthy guests relaxed—

Absolute chaos erupted on the luxurious terrace the exact moment Marcus issued his terrifying command.

The wealthy socialites screamed in sheer panic, dropping their crystal champagne flutes as they scrambled frantically toward the penthouse elevators.

Preston stood perfectly balanced on his newly healed legs, staring in sheer disbelief at the ruthless man he had trusted with half of his corporate empire.

Four massive mercenaries dressed in black tactical gear violently shoved their way through the fleeing crowd toward the unconscious boy.

“Do not touch that child!” Preston roared with a booming voice that commanded total authority.

He instinctively stepped forward to shield the boy, marveling at how smoothly his previously paralyzed muscles responded to his brain.

Marcus sneered coldly, casually straightening the cuffs of his expensive tailored suit as he walked closer.

“You don't understand what you are dealing with here, Preston,” Marcus said smoothly, his eyes completely devoid of any human empathy.

“That thing bleeding on your expensive marble floor is not a little boy.”

“He is a stolen piece of highly classified genetic technology worth billions of dollars to the military.”

Preston looked down at the fragile, bruised child who had just performed an absolute miracle on his shattered spine.

The boy's breathing was shallow and uneven, and a terrifying stream of dark, almost black blood was slowly trickling from his nose.

“I don't care what you claim he is, Marcus,” Preston growled, clenching his large fists defensively.

“He is leaving this building with me tonight, and you are going to stay out of my way.”

One of the aggressive mercenaries lunged forward with heavy steel handcuffs, attempting to violently push Preston aside.

Decades of pent-up rage and intense physical therapy instantly took over Preston's newly empowered body.

Preston grabbed the mercenary by his tactical vest and effortlessly hurled the two-hundred-pound man backward over a catering table.

The sheer, unnatural strength behind the throw shocked Preston just as much as it terrified the remaining guards.

“Shoot him in the legs, but do not kill him!” Marcus screamed frantically, realizing he was losing control of the situation.

Preston didn't waste another single second trying to negotiate with the corrupt businessman.

He scooped the small, unconscious boy into his strong arms and sprinted desperately toward his private, secure elevator.

Bullets violently shattered the expensive glass walls of the terrace, raining sharp debris down on Preston's broad shoulders as he ran.

He smashed his fist onto the elevator call button, incredibly grateful that the reinforced steel doors opened instantly.

He threw himself inside, holding the fragile boy tightly to his chest as heavy gunfire slammed into the closing metal doors.

The elevator immediately began its rapid descent toward the underground parking garage.

Preston leaned heavily against the cool metal wall, panting heavily while completely overwhelmed by the intoxicating feeling of standing upright.

He looked down at his powerful legs, unable to comprehend the sheer magnitude of the biological miracle running through his veins.

“We made it, kid,” Preston whispered, gently wiping the strange dark blood away from the boy's pale face.

But as the digital floor counter flashed to the twentieth floor, a sudden, blinding flash of white-hot agony violently erupted in Preston's lower spine.

He screamed out in absolute torture, dropping entirely to his knees as the miraculous strength vanished from his body as quickly as it had appeared.

Preston violently collapsed onto the floor of the moving elevator, his legs completely dead and paralyzed once again.

The boy's eyes slowly fluttered open, glowing with a terrifying, unnatural blue light in the dim elevator.