Hearing Logan's hesitation, Rowan didn't look worried at all. Instead, a faint smile crossed his face.
That alone told him he'd read Logan correctly. The man wasn't refusing because he didn't care. He was refusing because he cared too much.
"Tony Stark isn't someone we can judge from rumors alone," Rowan said calmly. "We'll decide what kind of man he is after we meet him. If he turns out to be untrustworthy, you can walk away with enough money to disappear for good. Take the Professor somewhere safe. Live the life you want. We won't stop you."
Logan pulled a bottle of cheap liquor from the car, tipped it back, and drained it in one go. He sat there in silence for a long time, eyes closed, thoughts grinding against each other.
Finally, he spoke.
"All right. I'll help," he said. "But there's one condition. Charles doesn't come with us."
Rowan didn't interrupt.
"His condition is worse than you think," Logan continued. "He can't control his abilities anymore. If he shows up anywhere near New York, governments will panic. That'll make everything worse, not better."
Rowan considered it, then nodded. "That's fair."
He'd been focused on Xavier's power and ignored the consequences. Bringing Charles into the open could draw attention from agencies far worse than local authorities. SHIELD, for one.
Besides, if it came down to it, Obadiah Stane could always be persuaded the old-fashioned way.
"Then we should leave," Gabriela said, glancing at the bodies on the ground. "Gunshots like that won't go unnoticed."
Logan crouched to reattach the wheel. "Don't worry. Around here, shots don't bring cops running."
"Impressive sense of duty," Rowan muttered.
He knelt beside the car, hands moving through practiced gestures. "Reparo."
The wheel snapped back into place, metal straightening as if time itself had reversed.
Logan stared. "So you've got more than Xavier and Magneto in you."
Rowan shrugged. "Honestly, I don't even know how much they put in there."
Logan snorted. "Reminds me of a loud-mouthed friend I used to have. Same story. Too many genes. Mouth sewn shut."
His expression darkened. "They're all gone now."
"People leave," Rowan said lightly. "New ones show up. Life doesn't stop just because it hurts."
Logan studied him for a moment. "You really do carry a bit of the Professor in you."
With the car fixed, Logan drove ahead in the stretch limousine, Isa following in the truck with Rowan and the children. They headed toward the border, deeper into empty land.
"I hid Charles here because no one comes around," Logan explained as they stopped in front of an abandoned factory. "Used to belong to a foreign steel company. They pulled out years ago."
The lawlessness of the border had been their shield. Somewhere safer would've been impossible.
A man wrapped in scarves and a hood stepped cautiously out of the building, eyes narrowing. "Logan… who are they?"
"Caliban," Logan said. "They're mutants. Kids. We'll talk inside."
Rowan recognized him instantly. A tracker. A former black-market broker who'd sold mutant locations for cash before trying to make amends. Not a saint, but not an enemy.
Inside, Caliban listened, frowning deeper with every sentence.
"So it's true," he said quietly. "Charles wasn't imagining them. But Logan… are you sure about this? It's dangerous."
"We don't have another choice," Logan replied. "That tank won't hold him forever. We need money. Real treatment. And I don't trust any government to protect those kids."
He tossed Caliban a bag of medicine and a card. "This'll last Charles a month. That card's everything I saved. If I don't come back, take care of him."
Caliban stared at the card, then laughed bitterly. "You know I won't. I'll take the money and leave that old nightmare behind."
Logan smirked. "No, you won't. Otherwise you'd have done it years ago."
Caliban sighed and handed Logan a bottle of pills. "Your turn to feed him. I've been up all night."
He'd been seen through. Again.