Layla

Chapter Thirty-Four: Meet Thy Enemy

"Layla?" Peter asked as he gently rapt on the door.

No response.

He reached for the handles applying a small amount of pressure to see if the door was unlocked. When the handle bent down, Peter slowly cracked the door open, calling out for Layla once more. When she did not reply, he opened the door, peering his head inside. He thought perhaps she was still asleep or  that she had her headphones on while reading, but he was wrong. Peter stood inside an empty room seeing that the bed was untouched and still made. Dread filled Peter as he ran out of her room and around the house in search of her. He hoped that his gut feeling was wrong as he ran all over the house and grounds. Peter sped by barely missing the students and teachers that walked by. He had been sure he accidentally knocked someones coffee cup out of their hands, but he had no time to worry about that.

He searched every nook and cranny to the manor and he did not find Layla, proving his gut feeling to be true. Peter came to a halt in a hallway, slamming his fist against the wood. Tingles crawled down his hand as he frantically raked his other hand through his hair. His eyes darted across the wood flooring as he wondered what he should do. He couldn't keep scolding himself as it was just a waste of time. He knew where she was going, and he could get there in no time with his power, but he doubted whether he should go by himself. If he went by himself it would only be him and Layla against Stryker and however many men he had. The two of them-hell even Layla herself-would be outnumbered.

"What is she thinking? What is she doing?" Peter asked himself angrily as he began pacing down the hall.

It was stupid of her to go by herself. Damn, he should have checked on her last night. Peter came to a halt, lifting his gaze. As much as he wanted to run to her, he knew she would need help. He could not make a foolish decision like her and leave without telling anyone. Charles needed to know.

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"What do you mean she's gone?" Charles asked as he wheeled around his desk.

Hank lingered in the corner, looking away as he muttered something under his breath. Unfortunately, Peter could not interpret Hank's words, but he did take note of how...off he appeared. Hank didn't even look at him when he informed them of Layla. Instead, he remained by the bookshelf pretending to look at the titles on the spines as if the news didn't concern him. Peter flicked his dark eyes back to Charles, reminding himself to talk to Hank. Clearly, something was bothering him.

"It means exactly what I said it means. She's gone. Left. Disappeared. How clear do I have to be about it?" Peter asked abruptly as he placed his hands inside the pockets of his jacket.

Charles rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Damn it, Layla. I had hoped she wouldn't have gone after him. I thought..." Charles trailed as he shut his eyes seeming to concentrate. Looking up, Charles shook his head before glancing back at Peter. "Well then, we need to get her. Together. Nobody," Charles said looking between Hank and Peter. "Is to get hurt. We need to stop Layla from doing anything she may regret. She's not thinking. Hank, prepare the jet and Peter round everybody up. I'll be down shortly. There is something I must do first."

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In violent times

You shouldn't have to sell your soul

In black and white

They really really ought to know

Those one-track minds

That took you for a working boy

Kiss them goodbye

You shouldn't have to jump for joy