Page 66 of Playing with Fire

As we approached the main security station, I motioned for Leo and Xander to hang back while I took point. The glass enclosure came into view, and I immediately spotted a figure slumped in a chair inside.

Maxime.

He was bound tightly to an office chair with zip ties, a vivid purple bruise blooming across his left cheekbone. His mouth was covered with silver duct tape, but his eyes were open, alert and frantic as they locked onto mine. Two security guards lay on the floor nearby, similarly restrained.

I gestured for Xander to check the perimeter while I approached Maxime cautiously, gun still ready. Maxime's eyes widened further, trying to communicate something as I stepped closer.

"Clear," Xander whispered from the doorway after checking the corners.

I pressed a finger to my lips, signaling Maxime to stay quiet as I ripped the duct tape from his mouth in one swift motion.

"Behind you!" he gasped immediately.

I whirled around, gun still in hand. There was just enough time to register a masculine figure in a dark hoodie at the doorway before something heavy slammed into the side of my face. Pain exploded across my temple, vision bursting into starbursts of white and red.

The gun clattered from my fingers as I hit the ground hard, the world tilting and blurring around me. The last thing I heard was Leo shouting my name, his voice stretched and distorted like he was underwater.

Then nothing but darkness.

"Xavier!"Hisnametorefrom my throat as he crumpled to the floor, his gun skittering across the polished tiles. Time slowed as I watched his body go limp, blood trickling from his temple in a thin line that made my stomach heave.

I lunged forward, rational thought drowned out by the roaring in my ears. Not Xavier. Not him. The sight of his blood awakened something primal in me. I'd designed hundreds of combat simulations in the Army, lost everything to fire twice over, but watching Xavier fall hit me with a terror I'd never felt before.

A dark figure moved between me and Xavier's prone body. The hooded man shifted, and for the first time, I found myself face to face with our attacker.

He didn't look like a monster. That was my first absurd thought as I froze mid-step, my heart hammering against my ribs. He looked like any other tech guy I might have worked with—lean build, intelligent eyes behind stylish glasses, expensive hoodie. If I'd passed him on the street, I'd have assumed he was just another Silicon Valley transplant with too much money and too little sleep.

But his eyes. Cold. Calculating. With a familiar intensity that chilled me to the core. The same obsessive focus I'd seen in Xavier's gaze when he talked about justice. When he planned his hunts. He reminded me of Xavier in the worst possible way, and the realization made bile rise in my throat.

"Leo Astrada," he said, my name rolling off his tongue with disturbing familiarity. His voice was smooth, cultured, with none of the manic edge I'd expected from someone who burned down homes. "Finally. I've wanted to meet you for quite some time."

"Get away from him," I managed, my voice steadier than the tremor in my hands.

As Xander began to ease away from my side toward a better position, Felix instantly swung his pistol toward them. "Don't," he said calmly, not even looking at Xander directly. "Stay exactly where you are or I put a bullet in your brother's other temple."

"Everyone's got beef with somebody," Xander drawled, his posture deliberately casual despite the tension in the room. "But pulling a gun is just tacky. Why don't we talk this out like civilized psychopaths?"

"Another word and I shoot him in the knee first," the man replied, pistol unwavering, his second hand holding what looked like a metal baton—the weapon he'd used on Xavier. He kept his back to the wall, maintaining sightlines to all of us, including Maxime, who remained bound to a chair in the corner, eyes wide.

I needed to keep his attention on me. "You're Felix Burns, right?"

Surprise flickered across his face before settling into cold calculation. "You've done your homework." He glanced down at Xavier. "Too late, unfortunately."

My chest constricted, lungs refusing to expand fully. Xavier was still breathing—I could see the slight rise and fall of his chest—but the blood seeping from his temple made my vision tunnel with fear. Images of him surrounded by medical equipment like his father flashed through my mind. Or worse.

"This is about your father," I said, forcing myself to focus. "About what Xavier did to him."

Felix's expression hardened, the mask of casual indifference slipping for just a moment to reveal the rage beneath. His nostrils flared, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Both were tiny tells that revealed the inferno burning beneath his controlled exterior.

"My father was a businessman making difficult choices in a cutthroat industry."

"Your father let fourteen people die," I replied, taking a small step forward. Calculate distance, maintain eye contact, keep him talking. Every simulation I'd ever run suddenly felt desperately relevant. "Children died in those fires."

"And that justified torture?" His voice cracked on the word torture. "Justified making him suffer before burning him alive?"

"Everyone's got dead relatives," Xander drawled from their position against the wall, their posture deliberately casual despite the tension in the room. "Doesn't give you the right to burn down other people's homes. Your daddy was a piece of shit who let children die. Xavier just balanced the scales."

Felix's eyes flashed to Xander, cold and calculating. "You have no idea what it's like to lose someone you love. But you're going to find out." He kicked Xavier's gun further away.

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