His name was Agent Elias Rowan.

Thirty-two. Precise. Controlled. Head of Containment Operations at Blackridge Facility—an underground organization tasked with neutralizing and securing supernatural threats. He didn’t believe in monsters.

He cataloged them.

Tonight’s mission was simple on paper: infiltrate an illegal superhuman laboratory on the outskirts of the city. Extract intel. Neutralize personnel. Secure any enhanced subjects.

It stopped being simple when his comm crackled.

“Rowan,” Carter’s voice came through, tight. “You need to see this. Sublevel three. It’s… not standard.”

Elias was already moving.

The corridor smelled like disinfectant and burnt circuitry. His team had restrained the scientists. Steel doors lined the hall. One of them had no window.

Carter stood beside it. Pale.

“They kept this one isolated,” he said quietly. “No observation panel. Full sensory lock.”

Elias’ jaw tightened. “Power readings?”

“Unstable.”

Of course they were.

He hacked the door override. It slid open with a hydraulic hiss.

Inside was a white padded room.

In the center—

A boy.

No older than eighteen.

Heavy chains bound his wrists and ankles to floor anchors. A brutal iron apparatus encased his head—thick plating around his mouth, sealed visor over his eyes, molded metal over his ears. No light. No sound. No voice.

Complete deprivation.

Kept alone inside his own mind.

Elias felt something cold settle in his chest.

“Vitals?” he murmured.

“Elevated heart rate. Stress spikes. Whatever he is, he’s powerful.”

Elias approached slowly, boots silent against padding. He crouched in front of the restrained figure.

Up close, he could see how thin he was. Bruising around the restraints. Tremors in his hands.

Not feral.

Terrified.

“I’m removing the sensory block,” Elias said calmly into comms. “Non-lethal response only. On my mark.”

He accessed the locking mechanism at the base of the iron mask. It resisted—military-grade coding. He bypassed it manually.

“Three. Two. One.”

The seals disengaged with a sharp click.

The mask fell away.

Air hit the boy’s face.

His eyes snapped open.

They were wild.

The reaction was instant.

The temperature in the room spiked violently. The lights overhead shattered. A shockwave burst outward, slamming Elias back against the wall.

Chains strained.

The boy gasped like he’d been drowning.

“Easy!” Elias barked, forcing himself upright despite the ringing in his ears. His team raised containment weapons but he snapped his hand up. “Stand down!”

The boy thrashed against the restraints, breathing ragged, unfocused. Overstimulated. Panicked. Weeks—maybe months—without sensory input, and now everything at once.

“It’s too much,” Carter muttered.

Elias moved forward again.

Slowly.

Carefully.

He knelt despite the heat radiating off the boy’s skin.

“You’re safe,” Elias said firmly, voice cutting through the chaos. “They’re gone.”

The boy’s head snapped toward him, pupils blown wide. Aggressive. Defensive.

A low, raw sound tore from his throat—more animal than human.

Elias didn’t flinch.

“My name is Elias Rowan,” he said evenly. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

The chains glowed red from heat.

“Deactivate the anchors,” Elias ordered quietly.

“That’s risky—”

“Do it.”

The locks released.

The boy collapsed forward instead of attacking.

Elias caught him.

For a split second, the boy’s hands clawed at his vest—then froze.

Confusion flickered across his face.

Overload.

Exhaustion.

Elias adjusted his grip, steady and controlled.

“Get medical ready,” he said into comms.

The boy’s power still hummed in the air, volatile and dangerous.

But he wasn’t a weapon.

He was a kid who had been locked inside his own head.

And Elias had no intention of letting anyone put that mask back on him again.