Chapter Four: Ghosts in the Blood

The silence after the strangers' departure was deafening, but Rogue was done waiting for answers. She slammed a glass onto the counter, the sound shattering the tension in the room.

"Enough, Logan," she snapped. "You're gonna tell me what that was about, or so help me, I'll take the answers straight outta your head."

Logan turned, his brow furrowed, and his mouth set in a hard line. "It's not that simple."

"It never is with you," Rogue shot back. "But it's always dangerous, and now it's on my doorstep. I deserve to know."

Logan stared at her, his jaw working as if the words physically hurt to say. Finally, he pulled up a chair and sat down heavily, the weight of his past settling onto his shoulders like an invisible shroud.

"You remember how I told you there were things about my past I couldn't remember? Gaps?"

Rogue nodded, folding her arms.

"Well, some of those gaps… they aren't accidents. They're scars. Things I didn't want to remember even when I had the chance." He took a long drag from his cigar, the embers flaring in the dim light. "The people that woman works for—they're part of it. They were part of what made me."

"You mean Weapon X," Rogue said softly.

Logan's eyes flicked to hers, sharp with both surprise and regret. "Yeah. Weapon X."

Rogue hesitated, then sat beside him. "What did you do, Logan?"

His gaze dropped to his hands, the knuckles scarred and cracked from years of violence. "They're right about one thing—I wasn't always the man you know now. Back then, I was their dog. They'd let me off the leash, point me at a target, and clean up what was left when I was done."

"And the thing they're after? The device?" Rogue prompted.

Logan leaned back, exhaling slowly. "That… that's something different. It wasn't part of the mission. I found it during a raid on one of their labs—some prototype tech they were working on. Didn't know what it was, but I could tell it was bad news. So I took it."

Rogue frowned. "You didn't destroy it?"

"I didn't know how," Logan admitted. "Hell, I still don't. But I knew I couldn't leave it with them."

Rogue sighed, her fingers tightening on the edge of the bar. "And now they want it back."

Logan nodded. "Yeah. And they'll burn everything in their way to get it."

The following day, Rogue noticed Logan was quieter than usual. He stayed close, his instincts on high alert, scanning every corner of the bar like danger might leap out at any moment. Rogue wanted to push him for more answers, but the haunted look in his eyes held her back.

By nightfall, the tension had only thickened. Logan paced by the window, a restless predator caged by walls. Rogue finally spoke up.

"Maybe we need backup," she said cautiously.

Logan's head whipped toward her. "No."

"Logan, you can't take these people on alone," she argued. "Whoever they are, they've got resources, weapons, *people.* You've got claws and a bad attitude."

Logan barked a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. "You think I don't know that? Bringing in more people just puts more targets on their backs."

"So what's your plan? Sit here and wait for them to show up with an army?"

Before Logan could answer, the door rattled. Both of them froze, and Logan's claws extended instinctively.

But it wasn't the strangers from before. A boy, no older than twelve, stumbled into the bar, his clothes soaked and torn. His dark hair was plastered to his face, and his wide eyes darted around the room in panic.

"Help," he gasped, collapsing to the floor.

Rogue was at his side in an instant, cradling his head. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're safe now."

The boy's lips trembled. "They're coming," he whispered. "They're coming for you."

Logan knelt beside them, his face grim. "Who's coming, kid?"

The boy looked up at him, his eyes glassy with fear. "The woman with the green eyes. She's got more. A lot more. And she knows… she knows you've got it."

Logan's gaze flicked to Rogue, his jaw tightening. "They're movin' faster than I thought."

"Logan," Rogue said, her voice low and urgent. "If this kid knows where we are, so do they."

A sharp crack outside cut through the night like a gunshot. The windows rattled, and the air filled with the smell of ozone. Logan was on his feet in an instant, his claws ready.

"They're here," he growled.

The first blast tore through the front wall, sending wood and glass flying. Rogue pulled the boy behind the counter, shielding him with her body as debris rained down. Logan charged into the smoke and chaos, his claws gleaming in the dim light.

The attackers poured in—mercenaries in tactical gear, their movements precise and ruthless. Logan was a blur of motion, claws tearing through their ranks, but they kept coming, their sheer numbers overwhelming.

Rogue peeked over the counter, her eyes narrowing. She couldn't just sit here while Logan fought alone.

"Stay here," she told the boy firmly.

"No, don't go!" he pleaded, clutching her arm.

She hesitated, but the sound of Logan's struggle spurred her into action. "I'll be back," she promised.

Rogue leapt into the fray, her gloved hand reaching for the nearest mercenary. Her touch drained his strength instantly, and he crumpled to the floor. She turned to another, dodging his weapon and delivering a swift punch that sent him sprawling.

Across the room, Logan fought like a cornered animal, his growls filling the air as he slashed through their enemies. But the mercenaries weren't slowing down, and their weapons grew more brutal.

"Logan!" Rogue shouted.

He turned just in time to see the leader—the woman with the green eyes—step into the ruined bar. She held the device in her hand, its glow pulsating like a heartbeat.

"Enough!" she called, her voice cutting through the chaos.

The mercenaries froze, retreating to her side. She smiled coldly, her eyes locking onto Logan.

"You can't win this, Logan," she said. "Hand it over. Or watch everyone you care about burn."

Logan bared his teeth, his claws gleaming. "Come and take it."

The woman's smile widened. "With pleasure."