Chapter Text
Rogue thought Julien was a fool for parking their car in the employee parking lot, but good manners won out…barely. She did, however, cut her eyes at him.
“What?” he asked innocently. “We’re not staying long.”
They crept alongside a cinderblock wall separating the lot from the loading bay. Beyond it, kitchen noise and the scent of steak filled the air.
“Restaurant?” she asked.
“Looks like it.” Julien said, then gestured toward a steel door fitted with a keycard scanner. “But that’s not for steaks.”
Before she could respond, something slammed into her back. A bare hand clamped around her throat. Her attacker barely had time to gasp before he crumpled to the ground, twitching.
Rogue staggered forward, coughing, shoving back the rush of stolen memories. She blinked hard and looked down at the unconscious guard—Stuart—lying at her feet. Rogue whipped around, fisting her hands on her hips.
“Did you know he was there?”
“Ouias.”
“You are such an unbelievable asshole.”
Reaching down, she unclipped the security key card from Stuart’s belt. “The good news is I know where we’re going. There’s a hidden door inside one of the freezers with a ramp down to the holding cells.”
“Good. Wait here. I’ll make sure we’re clear,” Julien said. “Find somewhere to stuff him. Or slit his throat. I don’t care.”
Rogue waved a hand in understanding. Reaching down, she snagged the handcuffs from Stuart’s belt and secured his hands behind his back. On a whim, she jiggled the handle of the nearest car. As luck would have it, the trunk popped open.
Taking a deep breath, Rogue heaved the man halfway into the trunk of the car, banging his head off the back fender. Rogue winced. Oh well, he’d live. Another shove sent his legs flopping into the trunk with the rest of him. Rogue slammed the lid and dusted off her hands.
Turning her attention inward, Rogue sifted through Stuart’s memories. He was another Friends of Humanity follower turned guard. He’d planned to take her alive and present her to Ashford in hopes of getting a promotion. He figured that as long as he kept a knife to her throat, Julien wouldn’t—Rogue froze.
Turning, she glared at the car. “Oh, you really are an idiot, ain’t ya?”
Stomping over to the bush Stuart had been hiding in, she pushed back the branches. Dull metal glinted in the shadows.
An Uzi.
“I’ll just take that. Thank you very much,” she muttered, scooping up the weapon and the magazines. She walked back over to Julien’s rental car and stuffed them under the front seat.
A low whistle cut through the air.
Time to go, Remy said.
Turning on her heel, Rogue rushed back to the cinder block wall. Pausing long enough to glance around, she darted across the parking lot. Her boots thumped against the concrete.
Rounding the corner of the loading bay, Julien stood with the door open.
“You took your sweet time,” he muttered.
“Well, excuse me,” Rogue snapped, brushing past him. “I had to hide a body in a trunk.”
“Félicitations! First time?”
“Shut up. He’s still breathing.”
“I’m so disappointed right now.”
She ignored him.
Stepping inside, Rogue glanced around. The narrow service hallway was cramped, lined with wire racks packed with industrial-sized cans of tomatoes, sacks of flour, and gleaming stainless-steel pots. The hum of compressors echoed from behind the freezer doors.
“This way,” she waved a hand.
They passed one large freezer door, then a second. Reaching the third one at the end of the hall, Rogue pulled it open. The hinges on the metal door groaned. Inside, the freezer was empty, save for a thick steel door built into the back wall. A little red light blinked next to a security card reader.
“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” Julien muttered.
Rogue shot him a look. “What were you expecting? A welcome mat?”
Reaching around her, Julien swiped the card again and swung the door open, revealing a long metal ramp. It sloped away, leading down to a lower level. At the top of the ramp, a wheelchair fitted with full-body restraints sat waiting.
Rogue tightened her grip on the rail and began her descent, boots ringing softly on the steel ramp. At the bottom stood another security door, this one reinforced and fitted with a narrow window.
Inside, the fluorescent lights were dimmed, but Rogue could make out bars—and what looked disturbingly like a gurney.
She pulled out the card and scanned it. An angry electronic honk echoed through the stairwell. She tried again. Same result.
“Oh, bite me,” she growled.
Julien shifted behind her, eyes scanning. Rogue yanked the knife from her boot. Prying off the scanner cover, she pulled the black wire free. The red light died instantly.
Grabbing her lockpicks, Rogue crouched down and worked the deadbolt. A few flicks of the wrist later, and the bolt gave way.
“At least you didn’t fry yourself this time,” Julien grunted.
Rogue rolled her eyes and stepped forward. Her fingers brushed the wall until they found the switch. The fluorescent lights buzzed to life. She sucked in a sharp breath.
Every single cell was occupied.
Rogue did a quick count—fifteen, maybe eighteen. A few of the cells were doubled up.
Her eyes landed on a familiar form slumped inside the last cell.
“Logan,” she bolted forward.
Making quick work of the door, her knees hit the concrete beside him. Logan didn’t twitch. Rogue scanned him for injuries. There were cuts on his knuckles and a bruise forming on his cheek. A little lower, a collar made from heavy metal encircled Logan’s throat. A large red light pulsed slowly from the center.
Rogue glared at the offending light. Carefully, she turned Logan’s head until she could see the latch. Brushing the hair out of his face, Rogue smiled. “Hang on just for me one second, Sug,’ and I’ll get that mess off ya.”
Grabbing her smallest pick, she fitted it into the latch. It took several tries to get a feeling for the lock, but a few minutes later, the latch gave way. Pulling the collar off, Rogue waited.
The bruise on Logan’s cheek yellowed and disappeared back into the skin. Logan’s eyes shifted, then opened.
Wincing, he sat up. “Did I take half-pint to get her learner’s permit again?”
Rogue huffed out a laugh and threw her arms around him. A heavy arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Miss me, Darlin’?”
“Why would I miss a grumpy old bastard like ya?”
“Oi, look what the cat dragged in?” A familiar Aussie voice called.
“Pyro?” Rogue’s eyes widened.
“I never thought I’d be glad to see an X-Men, but I got to say, sweetheart, you two are a sight for sore eyes.” The redhead grinned through a bloody lip.
Logan sliced open the bars. “Kid, you think you can get his collar off?”
Rogue nodded, already moving. This time, the lock went faster. Pyro pulled the collar from his neck.
“Glad to be rid of that. Right pain in the neck it was,” Pyro rubbed his neck.
Footsteps stormed towards them.
“Belle’s not here,” Julien thundered.
“The little blonde one, yeah?” Pyro asked. “She snapped one of the guard’s necks when they brought her in the first night.”
Julien’s mouth twitched.
“They tranq’d her with something after that. Then that smug bastard in charge—Ashford, I think his name was—had her moved. Said something about keeping her in isolation.”
“Where?” Julien lunged forward, seizing Pyro by the collar.
“Don’t know. Haven’t seen anything but the inside of these cells for the past few weeks.” Pyro raised his hands. Julien dropped Pyro in disgust and stormed back towards the door.
“Julien,” Rogue called, but he didn’t stop.
“Go with him, Rogue. Keep him from doing anything stupid,” Logan called, slicing open the cages. “We’ve got to get these people out of here.”
“The collars—”
“Leave ’em for now. We can get them off later,” Logan said. He eyed Pyro. “Can you walk?”
Pyro huffed out a laugh. “If it means getting out of here, I can.”
“Good. Give this one a hand,” Logan jerked his head towards a boy no older than fifteen. Pyro stooped to help the boy stand.
“Storm’s on her way with the Velocity. They’re meeting us at the airport. There were loading vans in the parking lot. You think we could find some keys?” Rogue asked.
“If not, I can hot wire it,” Logan grunted. He had someone over each shoulder.
Rogue thrust the comm into Pyro’s hands as she passed. “Here. Storm said she’d ping again when they landed.”
“Rogue,” Logan called. “Don’t get shot.”
Rogue nodded and bolted for the hallway, boots pounding as she picked up speed. Turning her head this way and that, she listened for any signs of a fight.
Okay, think. If I were a homicidal Master Assassin whose sister had been kidnapped, where would I be? She glanced around.
Killing people, Julien offered.
I’ll take ‘obvious answers’ for $500, Rogue snarked.
A hand shot out and jerked her sideways into a room. Rogue pivoted and sent an elbow towards her attacker’s nose. A hand caught it before she could make contact.
“You can’t run like a Thief, you know that?” Julien scowled at her, unimpressed. “You sound like a damn elephant.”
Rogue jerked her arm out of his grip. “Excuse me for having to rush after some idiot who couldn’t be bothered to wait thirty seconds for backup.”
Julien blinked. “Backup?”
“I said I’d help you find Belle, didn’t I?” Rogue fisted a hand on her hip.
“Yeah, but you’ve already gotten Wolverine free. I figured you’d—never mind, doesn’t matter,” Julien shook his head. “We need to find Ashford. He’ll know where Belle is.”
Rogue nodded. “If the guard’s memories are correct. He should still be in his office meeting with the game warden. His office is at the end of the hallway and to the left.”
“Good.” Julien started toward the door, then glanced over his shoulder. “Stay behind me.”
Rogue’s eyebrows flew to her hairline. “I beg your finest pardon.”
“Do you have a gun? No. Are you planning to grab a gun?” Julien waved a hand, and Rogue realized they were standing in the weapons room. “No. Then get behind me.”
Do it, Chere, Remy agreed.
Now, Stripes, Logan added.
Goddamit, she hated when the psyches agreed. Nothing like losing to your own internal focus group.
Julien grabbed one of the suppressors sitting on the credenza and attached it to the muzzle of his gun. Snapping off the safety, he waved for her to follow him.
They slipped back into the hallway. Rogue could hear other people moving around and talking, but the concrete hallway made it impossible to pinpoint where the voices were coming from. Reaching the end, the hallway branched into two short corridors going in opposite directions.
Looking left, the door at the end of the hallway was closed. A thin band of light shone from under the wooden surface.
Julien caught her eye and jerked his head towards the door, raising an eyebrow in question. She gave a tight nod.
Creeping down the hall, Julien flattened himself to the wall beside the door. He waited until she took up position on the opposite side, then leaned over and knocked politely. From inside, a voice called for them to enter.
Julien didn’t hesitate. He smoothly opened the door and fired.
Rogue choked on her breath. Scrambling in after him, she hurried to close the door to the office and spun to face the room.
Julien had his back to her, gun still drawn. Vincent Ashford sat behind the desk with his hands raised, blood splattered across his papers and tailored suit. His colleague—presumably the game warden— lay crumbled on the floor in a growing pool of blood. Most of his skull was missing.
Rogue’s stomach turned, but she kept her feet planted.
“Mr. Ashford,” Julien greeted coolly. “I want my sister back.”
“She killed one of my men,” Ashford replied, in a clipped tone.
The safety on Julien’s gun clicked off.
“I will kill many more.”
Ashford slowly lowered his hands back down to the desk. “If all you want is your sister, I’m sure we can reach some sort of—”
Another shot rang out. The wood next to Ashford’s hand exploded in splinters.
“Try for that panic button again, and I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.” Julien said, stepping around the desk. “Get up.”
He grabbed Ashford by the shoulder and hauled him to his feet. Rogue didn’t stop him. She doubted she could at this point.
Instead, she moved around the desk, eyes scanning for anything that might give them a lead on Belladonna. If Ashford had been meeting with the game warden, there might be notes. A schedule. A manifest. Something.
Worst-case scenario, she could always absorb Ashford, but she didn’t want him in her head. Creed’s psyche was bad enough. If she had to absorb another one of these idiots, she might never sleep again.
Ashford’s voice droned on behind her. The man sounded far too composed for having a gun pointed between his eyes. Rogue tried to block him out, but the smug tone and sense of knowing scraped against her nerves. He sounded like the kind of man who would minimize a crisis, then turn around and spin it for PR.
Fanning through a stack of paperwork, a familiar name leapt out at her.
Pow-R8. Rogue paused, studying the document. It was a contract for Ashford to acquire the majority share in the company in exchange for a position as a silent owner.
Her gut flipped. Pow-R8 was poison to mutants, and Ashford was buying it.
Another grunt of pain echoed from behind her. Julien’s doing, no doubt. Rogue didn’t turn. She was already flipping to the next file.
The deed to a crematorium in the next town.
Vacation packages for exotic big-game hunting, bought and sold using cryptocurrency.
A shipping bill for defunct military equipment from Trask Industries. Under the item description, the word ‘wearable prisoner restrains’ burned in black and white on the paper.
Rogue gripped the edge of the desk until the leather of her gloves creaked.
The guard’s memories made them seem like little more than frat boys with too much arrogance and nothing to show for it. She’d expected Vincent Ashford to be more of the same, maybe just with a real estate portfolio to back it up.
But this was precise—methodical even. He had supply lines, logistics, all of it. An entire thriving business built on hate with every ‘I’ dotted and every ‘T’ crossed.
She reached for another file. Training protocols. Vendor contacts. A rollout proposal for expanded operations in Western Canada and Eastern Europe. There was just one Lodge right now, but if Ashford had his way, it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
He’s turning genocide into a franchise, she realized. A cold feeling settled into her chest.
A sharp grunt pulled her attention back across the room. Julien had pressed Ashford’s head against the wall and was hissing something in French through clenched teeth.
“You coming, fille?” Julien called over his shoulder. He had Ashford on his feet again, gun pressed between the man’s shoulder blades. Across Ashford’s temple, a bruise was forming.
Rogue nodded tightly.
Julien dug the gun into Ashford’s back, “Move.”
Ashford adjusted his suit, trying for dignity, and led them stiffly to the far wall of the office. Pressing his palm to a concealed panel, a soft click echoed through the room as the hidden door slid open, revealing a short corridor. At the end stood a vault-style door.
Ashford stepped forward, typed a code on the keypad next to the door, and slid a security card into the slot. The door released with the heavy ‘thunk’ as the lock disengaged. The smell of bleach slapped her in the face.
Julien shoved Ashford through. Rogue followed.
There were only two cells here, both built directly into the foundation. Thick glass doors sealed each one off like a specimen chamber, allowing their captives no privacy. Ashford could watch whenever he damn well pleased.
Along one wall, a small bank of cabinets with a sink held a sterile tray of needles, along with a stack of cotton pads and medical tape. Rogue shuddered. The place looked more like a vet clinic than a holding cell.
Belle, Julien shouted. Remy’s psyche swore so hard Rogue felt the echo rattle her skull.
Belladonna lay on her back inside the nearest glass prisons, eyes closed. Around her neck, a collar pulsed slowly. She was still wearing her all black outfit from the night she’d been attacked. The knuckles of her right hand were scabbed over, and she was missing two fingernails.
Julien’s breath punched out of him like he’d been struck. “Open it,” he hissed.
Ashford pressed a panel by the door, and the glass slid away with a whoosh. The man stepped away, Julien’s gun keeping him complacent. Wordlessly, Julien caught her eye and jerked his head towards his sister.
Not wasting time, Rogue hurried into the cell and lowered herself to kneel beside Belladonna. Carefully, she pressed two fingers to the blonde woman’s pulse point. Relief surged through her, feeling the steady flutter there.
Getting a better look at the Master Assassin, the sleeve on Belle’s left arm had been rolled up. A cotton ball was taped to her inner elbow. Someone had taken the trouble to bandage the injection site properly—of all things.
Rogue stared at the unassuming little strip of tape. Rage strong enough to knock the breath from her chest rocketed through her.
He really did dot every fucking ‘I,’ didn’t he?
Outside the cell, Ashford spoke up. “You’re making a mistake. Let’s all take a breath.”
Rogue inhaled deeply through her nose and refocused her attention on Belladonna, checking for any serious injuries. Outside the tank, Julien turned his head slightly, but his gun didn’t waver. Ashford didn’t seem to notice the weapon, taking Julien’s response as a sign to keep talking. He faced Julien squarely.
“You are obviously an expert in your skillset. I run a discreet operation,” Ashford continued. “There’s no profit in escalation. But there is value in cooperation.”
Julien’s jaw ticked once. Rogue couldn’t help but think Ashford had gotten the wrong Boudreaux if he wanted to sue for peace.
“I’ll call off the guards, and I’ll arrange to have your sister’s and your—” He glanced her way. “—friend’s names protected. I can dismantle the whole operation and leave.”
Rogue’s pulse thrummed in her teeth. She didn’t doubt he’d dismantle it…and set up shop somewhere else.
“I’ll even pay you for the… inconvenience of tonight.” Ashford chuckled, like he’d made a clever joke.
The fire in her chest erupted into a supernova then burned away entirely. Something colder slipped in to fill the void. Rogue had heard enough. Carefully, she lifted Belladonna into a fireman’s carry over her shoulders.
“And you,” Ashford’s gaze fell on her again. “You are a mutant. Surely you grasp the optics here. You kill me, and tomorrow’s headlines read: Dangerous Mutant Kills Innocent Businessman. Your kind will be blamed. The public will panic. Politicians will react. My death becomes the spark for the next anti‑mutant wave.”
Gingerly stepping out of the cell, Rogue made sure she didn’t catch Belladonna's legs on the door frame.
“We can all walk away from this win-win,” Ashford’s voice grew stronger, as if he truly believed they were hesitating. “No bloodbath. No headlines. Just clean and sensible.”
He spread his hands expectantly, waiting for her agreement.
Rogue stared, regarding the businessman in front of her. After a moment, she met Julien’s eyes.
And walked past the pair.
Stepping back into Ashford’s office, everything was silent except for the electric hum of his computer. Her feet padded against the antique rug. She paused long enough to pick up the files off Ashford’s desk, tucking them under Belladonna’s weight, and headed for the office door.
BANG.
BANG.
Rogue flinched but kept her eyes forward.
Assassins don’t leave loose ends.
Julien caught up with her before she reached the ramp.
“Here, give her to me,” he said, holding out his arms. Rogue rolled her eyes.
“No, you’re the better shot. I’ve got her,” she replied, breathing hard as she shifted the taller woman’s weight. “Besides, she’s lighter than your heavy ass.”
“Wait—did you actually carry me out of Colt’s cabin?”
“No, I wrangled a pair of gators and strapped you to them—yes, I hauled your carcass out of there. How do you think you got out?”
“Honestly?” Julien admitted, blinking. “Never really questioned it.”
Ladies and gentlemen, Remy muttered, the world’s greatest assassin.
As they exited through the hidden entrance in the freezer, shouting and the sound of gunfire reached her ears. Picking up the pace, they rushed down the service hall entrance and into the loading bay. Logan had a box truck backed up to the dock, but they were pinned down by incoming fire.
Julien fired off two shots, forcing several guards to retreat back around the corner. From the back of the truck, Pyro waved wildly.
“Oi! Hurry up! What did you stop to do your shopping on the way?” he shouted, ducking as another bullet pinged off the side panel.
“Julien, grab those blow torches,” she jerked her head towards the wire rack. “Pyro! Catch!”
Julien snatched the heavy canisters and lobbed them across the dock. The torches arced through the air and thudded at Pyro’s feet. His grin turned positively feral.
“Cheers, mate!”
Twin fireballs erupted, twisting and turning to take on the form of two snakes slithering down the loading dock. With the guards sufficiently distracted, they rushed into the back of the truck. Rogue gently lowered Belle to the floor.
“Where’s Logan?” she asked.
“Who d’you think’s in the driver seat?” Pyro replied. More bullets bounced off the truck, and he sent another flood of fire into the loading bay.
“Did Storm ping us?”
“Yeah. They’re at the airport now,” Pyro answered. “Just got to get this hunk of junk across town before the steel plating gives out.”
“I got an idea,” Julien said, leaning out of the back of the truck. He fired a shot into the distance. Someone screamed. “Think you can make a flame big enough, so they reconsider their options?”
“Too right,” Pyro smirked.
“Bon, give us some cover. And when the truck pulled out?” Julien paused. “Burn this fucking place to the ground.”
Pyro laughed, “You’re speaking my language.”
Julien grabbed her hand. “Fille, you’re with me.”
“Where are we going?” she asked, letting him yank her after him.
“Rental car,” Julien answered, slamming his hand twice on the outside of the truck.
The engine revved to life. True to his word, an enormous flaming eagle burst from the blow torch canisters, wings outstretched. It soared above the guards, scattering them like mice, then swooped down and set the Lodge’s roof ablaze.
They sprinted across the loading dock for the rental car.
“Seriously, what’s the plan?” Rogue yelled over the chaos.
“Create a diversion,” Julien said, tossing her the keys. “They’ll never make it in that rust bucket unless we keep the guard’s attention on us.”
“You’re picking now to grow a heart?” Rogue asked, flinging herself into the driver’s seat.
“Didn’t you say something about racking up good karma points?”
Julien slammed his door. Grabbing the gun from his ankle, he fired a shot. A guard on the loading dock dropped, drawing the others' attention.
He might as well have kicked a hornet’s nest. Around the loading dock, SUV headlights flipped on.
“Shit. ShitShitShitShitShit,” Rogue cursed. Jamming the keys into the ignition, she floored it out of the parking lot, clipping the car where Stuart was still locked up. “I hope you got good insurance.”
“I always upgrade,” Julien replied, leaning out the window to taking aim again.
They fishtailed onto the road, sending gravel flying. Rogue gripped the steering wheel and pressed the accelerator harder. Trees blurred past them in the dark.
The first crack behind them blew the passenger side mirror clean off. Julien ducked and then leaned out again to return fire. In the rearview mirror, Rogue saw one SUV veer off into a pine tree. Three more sets of headlights appeared in its place.
The road curved. Rogue gripped the steering wheel and accelerated, tires squealing in protest. The car fishtailed slightly as she came out of the turn, clipping a branch on the edge of the road.
“Jesus,” Julien gripped the ‘oh-shit’ handle.
“Would you calm down? I know how to drive,” Rogue snapped.
“Fine!” Julien barked as dirt and pinecones sprayed outside the passenger window. “But could you at least keep all four fucking tires on the road?”
“Oh my God, you big baby,” she yelled, yanking the wheel. The car groaned in protest as all four tires came back in contact with the road. “There. Happy now?”
“Marginally,” he grumbled, bracing his feet against the floorboard like it might help and leaning out the window again. “I should have grabbed the rifle from the trunk.”
“Reach under your seat. I stashed a Uzi under there.”
Julien blinked at her. “You have a Uzi?”
“You don’t?”
“Not one I keep under the front seat of my car.”
“Well, pull it out and see if you can’t do something with it,” Rogue snapped, twisting the wheel again as another burst of gunfire chased them.
Julien let out a dry laugh, reaching down and pulling up the gun. “Is that what you tell LeBeau?”
Rogue’s foot slammed harder on the gas. The speedometer needle soared. She shot him a flat, unimpressed glare.
“If you’re going to be vulgar, you can get out.”
“You’re doing over a hundred and twenty.”
“Did I shudder?”
Flicking the safety off, he leaned back out the window. Wind whipped at his hair and coat like a hurricane. Gunfire erupted from the Uzi. Behind them, the wheels of an SUV locked up, sending the vehicle into a barrel roll.
Bullets thudded against the rear quarter panel. Rogue swerved hard around a blind curve, throwing Julien off-balance. She caught the back of his red coat with one hand, keeping her grip on the wheel with the other.
“Get your ass back in here. I do not have time for funeral potatoes this week.”
“You sweet-talk LeBeau like that,” Julien yelled over the wind, loading another magazine.
Rogue rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t crash just from the force of it. In her sideview mirror, an SUV moved up alongside them, trying to force them off the road. Rogue glanced at Julien’s thigh holster.
“You still got bullets in that?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Borrowing.”
Rogue ripped the gun from the holster and fired off a wild shot out the window. The SUV's front tire blew. The vehicle wabbled, then lost control, taking out a second SUV.
Julien laughed, impressed. “Maybe I will marry you after all.”
“Hard pass.”
The car bounced violently as the back end caught the shoulder again. The tires screamed as Rogue yanked the wheel left, the car skidding onto the side access road toward the regional airport. They were almost there. The glow of terminal lights was visible over the trees, but so were the headlights of their pursuers.
“Come on, baby, five more minutes,” Rogue gritted her teeth and checked the dash. Every warning light was on.
“We don’t have five!” Julien barked, twisting in his seat to fire another round of bullets out the back window. One of the chasing SUVs swerved violently, clipped the edge of the guardrail, and went airborne into a shallow ditch.
“That was your idea of precision shooting?” Rogue snapped.
“Did I hit you?” he shot back.
“I swear to God—”
The narrow service road gave way to a wide-open tarmac. Parked at the far edge sat a nondescript box truck. The back doors were open. The Velocity waited nearby, doors open. Several figures in black uniforms were waving them in.
“There’s Logan!” Rogue shouted.
“Praise be. Now brake!”
Rogue did not brake.
Instead, she jerked the wheel sideways, sending the car into a drift across the blacktop. Julien swore in French, bracing one arm on the dash, throwing another across her chest as the car spun and skidded to a halt, nearly taking out a luggage cart.
Three SUVs blew onto the tarmac, only to be lifted into the air and flung beyond the gates. Rogue caught Jean’s eye. The redhead smiled, lowering her fingers from her temples.
Before the engine finished coughing, Julien flung open his door and tumbled out.
“You’re insane!” Julien shouted, storming away from the car.
“Would you quit whining. You’re alive, ain’t ya?” Rogue huffed, flinging off her seatbelt and slamming the door shut behind her.
Julien ignored her and turned on Logan. “She can’t drive.”
Logan didn’t even blink. “Nope.”
Julien shook his head, but moved to check on Belladonna. From what Rogue could see, her eyes were open, but even from a distance, she looked dazed. Beast had an IV attached to her arm. Julien knelt down beside her, smiling.
Rogue turned away, giving them some privacy.
“Did you get shot?” Logan asked.
Rogue rolled her eyes. He’d be able to smell it if she had. “Not today. Maybe tomorrow.”
Suddenly, the back bumper of the car gave way, clattering to the pavement below.