Page 93 of Playing with Fire

"Yes?" Maxime called, his own posture reflecting a similar readiness.

The door opened to reveal one of the Sentinel's security staff, his expression tense. "Mr. Laskin, Mr. St. Germain," he said, nodding to us both. "There's an urgent video call coming through on the secure line in the main conference room. For you specifically, Mr. Laskin."

My blood went cold. "Who is it?"

"He wouldn't identify himself, sir. Just said you'd want to take this call. That it concerned your father."

Maxime and I exchanged glances, the same realization dawning on both of us simultaneously. "Phoenix," I said, already moving toward the door.

"I'm coming with you," Maxime declared, the shakiness from earlier completely gone now, replaced by cold determination.

We followed the security officer through the Sentinel's corridors, moving with the quick efficiency of those accustomed to crisis. By the time we reached the main conference room, Leo, Xander, and Xion were already there, alerted by the same staff member who'd found me.

"What's happening?" Leo asked, crossing immediately to my side. The concern in his eyes was evident, his body unconsciously positioning itself slightly in front of mine in a protective stance that would have been touching if the situation weren't so dire.

"We're about to find out," I replied, giving his arm a quick squeeze of reassurance before moving to the head of the conference table.

The massive screen that dominated the far wall was already active, displaying the Sentinel's security logo while waiting for the connection to be established. I nodded to the technician manning the controls, and the screen flickered before resolving into an image that made everyone in the room tense.

I knew him instantly from Leo's description—lean build, intelligent eyes behind stylish glasses, an expensive hoodie that probably cost more than most people's monthly salary. Felix Burns didn't look like a monster, didn't look like the kind of man who would burn homes and destroy lives. He looked like any other tech executive, another Silicon Valley transplant with too much money and too little sleep.

But his eyes gave him away. Cold. Calculating. With an intensity that Leo had said reminded him of me in the worst possible way. The focused, obsessive gaze of someone who had built their entire identity around a single purpose.

"Felix Burns," I greeted him, keeping my voice level despite the rage building in my chest.

"Xavier Laskin," he replied, his tone conversational, as if we were meeting at a business conference rather than after months of calculated destruction. "I've been looking forward to speaking with you directly. After all, we have so much in common."

"We have nothing in common," I countered, studying his face for any hint of weakness, any vulnerability I could exploit. "What do you want?"

His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Direct. I appreciate that. Very well, I'll be equally direct. I want to meet. In person. Just you and me."

A sound of disbelief escaped Xander beside me. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"I assure you, I'm quite serious," Felix continued, his gaze never wavering from mine despite the interruption. "I believe we have matters to discuss that would be better handled face to face."

"Why would I agree to that?" I asked, hands flat on the conference table to hide their trembling—not from fear, but from the effort it took to restrain the violent impulses surging through me. "What possible reason could I have to walk into what is obviously a trap?"

Felix leaned back slightly, adjusting his glasses with a gesture that seemed deliberately casual. "Because I have something you want." He paused, eyes glittering with malicious satisfaction. "Or rather, someone."

The screen split, the right side switching to a different feed that sent a shock wave through the room. Algerone Caisse-Etremont lay on what appeared to be a hospital bed, though the setting was clearly not a legitimate medical facility. His normally immaculate appearance was gone, replaced by bloodied bandages and the hollow-eyed exhaustion of someone in significant pain but fighting to maintain consciousness.

Maxime lunged forward, slamming his fists onto the conference table with enough force to make everyone flinch. He roared something in Québécois French. I didn’t have to speak the language to know it was an insult. "You sadistic little bastard! I will personally tear your spine out through your throat!" His voice, usually measured and professional, transformed into something feral, unrecognizable. "If you harm one more hair on his head, I will disembowel you with my bare hands and make you watch as I feed your entrails to dogs!"

The sudden explosion of violence from the normally composed assistant stunned everyone into momentary silence. Xion moved quickly, grabbing Maxime's arm as he looked ready to physically attack the screen.

"Max, breathe," Xion said firmly.

"What the hell's gotten into him?" Xander asked, cocking their head.

"As you can see," Felix continued, his voice deliberately light, seemingly unfazed by Maxime's outburst, "your father survived our little encounter last night. Barely. My security team found him unconscious, but alive. Rather fortunate timing, don't you think?"

"If you touch him again—" Maxime snarled, still struggling against Xion's restraining grip, but Felix cut him off with a dismissive wave.

"I have no interest in harming him further. In fact, I've provided medical care, as you can see. The extent of his injuries required immediate intervention." Felix's expression hardened. "But his continued survival depends entirely on Xavier agreeing to my terms."

"Which are?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice steady despite the conflicting emotions warring within me. Relief that Algerone was alive battled with fury at Phoenix's manipulation and cold calculation about how to turn this situation to our advantage.

"You. Alone. At the location I specify. No weapons, no backup, no communication devices." Felix's requirements were exactly what I'd expected—exactly what I would demand in his position. "A conversation between two men who understand the true meaning of vengeance."

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