Xavier stood at the edge of the command center, staring out at the dark horizon. His jaw clenched, his mind replaying the image of Elizabeth being taken over and over again. Her whispered apology, the tears in her eyes, and the way Anderson's smug face twisted in triumph—it was all too much. He slammed his fist down on the steel table, rattling the maps and equipment.
Clara glanced up from her laptop, her brow furrowed. "Breaking the table won't help us find her, Xavier."
"I should've stopped her," he growled, his voice low and filled with self-loathing.
Clara sighed and stood, crossing her arms. "She made the call to save all of us. You know that."
Xavier shot her a glare, his emotions barely contained. "I don't need a lecture right now, Clara. I need solutions. Where the hell is he taking her?"
