After a whole day of baking under the blazing sun, the entire warehouse was filled with stagnant air.
An old, creaking electric fan spun round and round, blowing out nothing but waves of hot air.
"To be honest, James, it took quite a bit of effort to track you down. I have to say, this really isn't a very nice place. If you need anything, just let me know, and I can arrange an apartment for you in the best neighborhood in the city."
Chris uncrossed his legs, a smile lingering on his face. Yet, far from being warm, that smile carried a dangerous edge.
Logan walked over, sat down opposite Chris, and said calmly, "No need."
At the same time, his peripheral vision swept the surrounding area. Relieved not to catch sight of the Professor anywhere, he finally let out an inner breath.
The Professor was undoubtedly his greatest vulnerability right now. If the other man managed to get the Professor under his control, Logan would find himself in a position of complete passivity.
However, the peace of mind he had just found was shattered the very next second by Chris's next remark.
"Don't be so guarded, James. Just because you don't need it doesn't mean your father doesn't. Making a man in his nineties live in a water tower like that isn't a very good idea."
Chris stared at James with a smile, the warning in his eyes glaringly obvious.
Logan's expression sank instantly. His fists clenched so tightly that the skin between his knuckles threatened to split open.
"What exactly do you want?"
Having drifted through the world for so many years, how could Logan fail to pick up on the warning behind the other man's words?
Every single thing Chris was implying boiled down to one single message: I know where you live, and I know you have a helpless old man staying with you...
"Relax."
Chris chuckled. "You saved my life, so I consider us friends. Friends don't hurt each other, right? Of course, unless someone betrays our friendship—though I really hope I never have to see that happen."
With that, he gave a slight gesture. One of his bodyguards reached inside his jacket, pulled out an exquisite, palm-sized gift box, and placed it respectfully into Chris's hands.
"Besides, I heard that the escort mission this time wouldn't have been possible without you. To show our appreciation, the family has prepared a special gift just for you."
Chris gently slid the gift box across the table toward Logan. "We put a lot of thought into this. It suits your identity perfectly."
Logan didn't reach for it. He just kept his eyes locked onto Chris's, his face written all over with suspicion.
The deep red gift box was tied with an elaborate bow of red silk, looking just like the ultra-deluxe packaging you would find in a high-end boutique.
"Open it, Logan."
Chris's face still wore that constant smile—as if it were the only expression he possessed—yet his voice turned bone-chillingly cold.
"You knew my identity from the very beginning?"
Hearing his own name, Logan was startled. Every muscle in his body instantly locked up, his fists clenching so hard that the Adamantium Claws hidden within his finger joints were practically bursting to break through.
This time, Logan had completely miscalculated.
He had been hanging around Santa Fe for years without anyone recognizing him, which had led him to mistakenly believe that the world had truly forgotten about Wolverine.
Clearly, however, that was not the case.
True to Victor's words, the reputation of Wolverine was simply too massive—so massive that even after being buried under decades of dust, people still remembered.
Whenever Wolverine had utility left, someone would always remember him.
"No." Chris shook his head with a smile. "At first, I just thought you were a pretty good hired muscle. But my father remembers you. When he was young, photos of you mutants used to grace the front page of the newspapers every now and then."
Chris placed the gift box on the table, stood up, dusted off his trousers, and smiled. "Don't be so tense. I really am just here to deliver a gift today. When there's a new assignment next time, I'll let you know. I saved your number, remember? Though if your phone happens to be unreachable, I might just have to pay you another personal visit."
With that, he waved his hand and led his men out of the warehouse.
The moment he saw Chris step outside, Caliban scrambled into the kitchen, snatched a shotgun from its hidden corner, and raced to the front door. He slammed the deadbolt shut and anxiously peered through the peephole.
Only after the two cars parked outside started up and drove away from the compound did Caliban finally release a long, shaky breath and walk back to Logan.
Meanwhile, Logan turned his gaze toward the exquisite gift box on the table and cautiously opened it.
Inside lay a silver revolver. Its meticulous craftsmanship made it look more like a work of art, the silver-plated casing gleaming under the lights. Right beside the handgun sat three pristine, silver-white bullets.
"Damn it!"
Logan shoved the box and the revolver back onto the table.
He knew perfectly well that this was a blatant, unadulterated threat from Chris!
"Logan, you told me there wouldn't be any trouble!"
Caliban stood in front of Logan, shaking with anger. "And now someone knows the Professor is here, knows *you* are here, and they've even tracked us right to our doorstep! If more people find out, we could get blown to pieces by a couple of RPGs while we're sleeping!"
"Calm down!"
Logan snatched the shotgun out of Caliban's hands, his face dark. "They aren't going to do anything to us anytime soon!"
If Chris had wanted him dead, he wouldn't have bothered coming here tonight. All he had to do was report their coordinates to the government authorities, and heavily armed soldiers and gunships would have surrounded this place within minutes. It was blindingly obvious now that Chris intended to use him to get things done!
"Just because they aren't doing it now doesn't mean they won't later!" Caliban's face was a mask of panic. "Logan, we need to pack our things. Tomorrow—no, tonight—we're getting out of here. This place is crawling with danger, and we could be captured at any second!"
As he spoke, Caliban actually started moving to pack his bags.
"Don't be so impulsive!"
Logan grabbed Caliban by the arm. "Trust me, I can handle this."
Caliban still looked terrified out of his wits. "Earlier, three guys shoved me onto the couch, and the handguns on their belts could have killed me at any second! How am I supposed to stay calm?!"
He stared at Logan, trembling uncontrollably as the fear refused to leave his heart.
"If we run right now, it's only going to get more dangerous!"
Logan replied in a deep, resolute voice.
Chris clearly had no intention of exposing him right now. As long as those guys could squeeze some value out of Wolverine, they wouldn't tear down the facade just yet.
At the same time, Logan knew he could never let his life remain under someone else's control.
The moment he lost his usefulness, Chris and his people would eliminate him without a second thought! But if they tried to flee straight away, they wouldn't just be running from the Lawrence family—they'd be walking straight into a full-scale dragnet by government agencies. The risks would multiply a millionfold!
Hearing this, Caliban finally collapsed onto the couch in defeat, burying his head in his hands with a look of pure agony.
All he wanted was to live out the rest of his life in peace. He never wanted to touch anything dangerous ever again!
"Logan."
Charles rolled in through the back door in his wheelchair. "Was that guy just now your boss?"
He maneuvered his wheelchair closer to Logan, his body slumping slightly against the seat. "That fellow is no good."
"I know. Don't worry."
Logan reached out and patted the back of the Professor's hand. "I'll sort everything out. Rest assured, nothing is going to happen."
Charles didn't reply right away, simply watching Logan in silence.
Light as Logan's words sounded, the current situation was clearly no small challenge for him.
"If it really comes to it, let me—"
Before Charles could finish, Logan quickly raised a hand to stop him.
He stared straight into the Professor's eyes and shook his head.
Logan knew the rest of that sentence: *Let me kill them all!*
"We aren't at that point yet, Charles."
Logan shook his head with finality. "That would only draw even greater danger. If we actually did that, it wouldn't just be the Lawrence family keeping tabs on us."
With his powers having degraded so severely, he knew all too well what the consequences of catching the government's eye would be. It would lead to an irreversible, inescapable doom.
Charles looked at Logan's resolute gaze, seemingly wanting to say more.
But Logan didn't give him the chance, turning instead to Caliban. "I bought quite a bit of stuff. It's in the trunk. Come help me carry it in, and we'll have a proper feast for dinner tonight."
With that, he turned back to the Professor. "Professor, why don't you head over to the couch and watch a movie? Let's put tonight's business out of our minds for now. Trust me, I can handle it."
Seeing the look on Logan's face, Charles could only let out a resigned sigh and keep quiet.
Logan and Caliban went out to the car and hauled all the groceries out of the trunk.
He had bought plenty of good ingredients. With Caliban and Logan working together on the cooking, rich, mouth-watering aromas soon filled every corner of the warehouse.
The fragrance drifting through the room helped soothe everyone's frayed nerves. For the time being, the three of them pushed the worries brought by Chris to the back of their minds and threw themselves into enjoying the lavish meal.
The rare treat made their appetites flare up, and it took them a full hour to finish the exceptional dinner.
After getting the Professor to take his medication, Logan wheeled him back to his quarters in the water tower to settle him in. Only then did he take a quick shower and lie down on his own bed.
It was a cramped little room. The cracked walls opened directly out into the surrounding wilderness, and a cold sliver of moonlight pierced through the gaps, casting its pale light across his body.
The gunshot wounds from a few days ago had not fully healed yet, thick scabs crusting over each entry point.
Logan looked down at his injuries and let out a helpless sigh.
*Ping!*
The phone on his nightstand suddenly lit up.
A text message had just come through the Uber app.
Logan unlocked his phone to check it. It was an unfamiliar number, and the message read: *Are you not taking passengers anymore lately?*
Staring at the strange text, Logan's face filled with utter bewilderment.
Why on earth would anyone care whether an Uber driver was taking passengers or not?