𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖒𝖆 𝖎𝖒𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖆𝖑𝖊 ━ 𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖆𝖓 𝖍𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖙

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 6

Verena and Logan drove towards Las Vegas, hoping to track down their old teammates, John Wraith and Fred Dukes. John was now running a boxing ring, which Fred was apparently staying in. They entered through John's office, where he greeted them, offering Logan a handshake and Verena a hug.

"Long time no see, you two." John grinned at Verena. "Verena, you finally grew up."

She scoffed playfully. "I'm about 100 years too old for you, John."

He smirked. "That's fine, I like my women older."

Logan cleared his throat from behind her, his usual gruff demeanor a little sharper than normal. Verena glanced back at him, raising a brow in amusement. "We need to talk," Logan grumbled.

John stammered. "Y-yeah, sure, take a seat. You guys want a beer?"

They nodded, taking the two leather chairs by his desk. John handed them beers, then tossed a pack of Marlboro Reds to Verena. "In case you ever came back." She caught the pack, pulled a lighter from her jacket pocket—a gold one, with her initials, "VDL," engraved on it, a birthday gift from Logan a few years back. She lit a cigarette, blowing the smoke away from the two men.

"So," John said, kicking his feet up on the desk and cracking open a beer. "What's this about?"

Verena glanced at Logan, giving him the go-ahead to start. "Victor's hunting the team. He killed my girlfriend. He killed Bradley. And we think he killed Wade."

John looked confused. "If my eyes don't deceive me, I believe Verena's sitting right here and doesn't seem dead."

Verena flushed, her grip tightening around her beer bottle. Logan nearly choked on his drink. "Not Verena—my girlfriend Kayla."

An awkward silence descended over the room. John muttered a soft, "Oh," and Verena took a long drag on her cigarette, the smoke hanging heavy in the air. The weight of Kayla's loss pressed down on her, even if she kept it buried deep.

"You sure it was Victor?" John finally asked.

Verena exhaled smoke. "Yeah."

"Damn. Sorry, guys."

Logan shot up from his seat, pacing over to the window that overlooked the boxing ring. "What the hell happened to him after we left?"

Verena sat back, legs apart, her body language relaxed but her senses alert.

"He got worse." John sighed. "Felt like you abandoned him. Hell, we all did. But Victor... He needed to prove he was better than you. Hunting, killing—whatever he could get his hands on. I quit a few months later. Couldn't stomach rounding 'em up anymore."

Verena's voice sliced through the quiet, sharp and dangerous. "Rounding who up?"

"Leave it alone, Verena," John snapped, more harshly than he'd intended. Verena's eyes narrowed as she stood, her posture stiffening. Logan joined her, his presence instantly making the room feel smaller.

"Rounding who up, John?" Logan asked, his voice dangerously calm.

John stood, heading for the door, but Verena's voice stopped him cold. "Hey, John!"

He turned, reluctant.

"We hunted our own kind," he said, his voice low. "There's a special place in hell for the things we did."

"Mutants?" Logan asked, his tone darkening. "Why?"

John shook his head, clearly worn down. "Stryker said we'd be making a difference—protecting people from the 'bad' ones."

The revelation hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Verena looked troubled, her thoughts racing as Logan's jaw clenched tightly.

"How you gonna take Victor down?" John asked, his tone shifting.