"Hmph!"
A heavy, disappointed grunt echoed from the shadows of the tree line. Supported by Summer Leo, Old Leo stepped into the fading light of the clearing. His face, usually worn with age and kindness, was now a mask of thunderous, dark fury.
"You still have the nerve to call me Dad?" Old Leo’s voice shook, not with frailty, but with a rage that seemed to vibrate through his very bones.
Thump.
Jimmy Leo’s legs gave way. He collapsed onto the dirt, his eyes wide and glassy, staring at his father as if seeing a ghost. To him, this was impossible. Hours ago, his father had been knocking on death’s door, barely able to lift a finger. Now, he stood upright, his stride strong, his voice booming.
"Impossible..." Jimmy mumbled, his mind unable to process the reality. "This is impossible...
