Page 134 of Collateral Love
X crouched in front of Charles, grabbed his hair, and yanked his head up until their eyes met.
“You don’t get to speak on my family,” X said, voice flat. “You don’t get to breathe and remember her name in the same lifetime.”
Charles sobbed then.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her,” he choked. “I swear?—”
X laughed.
“You left her bleeding with a future you didn’t plan to claim,” he said. “You don’t gotta touch a woman to ruin her life.”
Charles shook his head wildly. “I can fix this. I still have accounts. I still got people. Cameron needs me alive?—”
X stood.
Pulled the gun up.
Charles screamed.
X shot him in the knee.
The sound echoed down the alley, sharp and final. Charles collapsed fully this time, howling, hands clawing at his leg as blood poured fast and dark onto the concrete, mixing with rainwater until it ran like ink toward the gutter.
None of us moved.
X stepped around him, nudged his shoulder with the toe of his boot until Charles rolled onto his back.
“You remember the arcade?” X asked calmly.
Charles sobbed harder. “Please?—”
“The night your cousin thought he was untouchable,” X continued. “The night your family laughed about consequences like they were for other people.”
He crouched again, forcing the barrel of the gun inside of Charles ’ mouth.
“You made my sister-in-law collateral,” X said. “Your people made Channy, and I lose Xander.”
Charles’ tears were running down his face.
X took the shot, blowing right through his throat and the back of his head.
The mass of his brain matter splattered on the concrete.
Charles’s body jerked once, then went still.
The alley fell silent except for the rain.
I watched X hold position for a beat longer than necessary. I watched his shoulders rise, fall. Then he stood, lowered the weapon, and stepped back.
I looked at Miles.
His face had gone pale, jaw clenched so tight it trembled. He stared at Charles’s body, recognizing that it would be him soon.
Xavier turned, eyes cold, blood speckling his sleeve.
“That wasn’t Cameron’s endgame,” he said.
“No,” I agreed. “That was her distraction.”
