The air inside the warehouse thickened the moment Steve took another step.
It wasn't just tension anymore. It felt like the very air had turned to iron, pressing down on every chest, every breath, every thought.
His presence was no longer just something seen—it was something felt. A quiet storm, unseen but impossible to ignore.
A wave of energy rippled from him, invisible but unmistakable. The lights above flickered faintly. Dust drifted in slow motion through the stillness. Even the walls seemed to creak.
Jessica gasped, one hand on her chest. Jordan gritted his teeth, trying not to groan as the pressure made his wound throb worse. Joseph, already weak, could barely stay conscious.
Steve didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
His eyes locked onto Donald.
The arrogant smirk Donald wore earlier began to crack. Sweat broke across his forehead.
"W-What... What is this?" he muttered.
Then louder, panicked, "Protect me, you fools!"
