“Leo!” His father’s voice. Slurred. Angry. The man wasn’t supposed to be home for another three days. The night shift rotation had changed. Leo’s stomach turned to ice.

“Tackle,” Leo whispered.

The button was a lie.

He looked at the Eevee. The Eevee looked at the door. Its eyes began to glow—not red, not blue, but a fierce, blinding white .

The Eevee landed softly on the carpet, turned back to Leo, and grinned .

Leo didn’t look back. He stepped into the cold Kansas night, Pixelmon by his side, and for the first time—he was the one in control.