Xavier stood by the wide glass window of his office, watching the chaos below. Smoke curled into the night sky, the distant echoes of gunfire and explosions shaking the ground. Victor was tearing through his defenses faster than expected.
But Xavier wasn't worried.
Not yet.
He turned away, adjusting the cuffs of his bloodstained shirt, and walked to the desk where a radio lay. He pressed a button, his voice calm. "Move the boy to the helipad. Now."
A crackle of static. Then a voice replied, "Understood, boss."
Xavier exhaled slowly, a smirk playing at his lips. If Victor wanted his son, he'd have to come to him. And when he did, Xavier would be waiting.
The night was young. And the game was just beginning.
"Sir?" One of his men appeared at the doorway, gun in hand, sweat dripping do
