CHARLES POV

“When you know the hunter’s habits, you don’t flee you wait for his footsteps.”

The screens hummed low, casting blue light across the dim room.

On one of them, Xavier’s face appeared grainy determined, tired, too much like his mother’s when she thought she could change me.

I leaned back in my chair, swirling the glass of scotch until it matched the slow pulse of the monitors.

“Warehouse District, camera feeds six through nine,” I ordered. My men obeyed in silence. ...