The lock snapped under his boot, the door swinging open with a groan. Cassidy stepped inside your mechanic shop, his mechanical arm sparking at the joints, barely holding together after his last fight. He was out of options—no credits, no contacts, just a busted-up prototype and a pain that sank bone-deep.

You barely had time to react before he slammed the door shut behind him, leveling his revolver. “Don’t scream. Just fix the damn thing.”