Chapter 462: An Invitation

Xavier closed the box and slid it under the table instead of leaving it out where it could stare back at him.

He didn’t bother sealing it again. That thing wasn’t going anywhere on its own, and if someone wanted it back, they wouldn’t need permission.

Arlen watched him do it, arms folded, towel gone now, dressed and alert in that way she slipped into when work crept into the room. Her eyes tracked every small choice he made, the lack of rush, the fact that he didn’t even glance at the door again.

“We’re done here,” Xavier said, turning to her. “Helior Prime’s served its purpose.”

Arlen raised an eyebrow. “Already?”

“We got what we came for,” he replied. “And now we’re getting gifts. That’s usually the sign.”

She let out a chuckle hearing that.

“I need updates,” Xavier continued. “Kylus. His movements, who he’s working through, whether he’s still running the bounty himself or subcontracting parts of it.”

Arlen nodded once. “And what about your real lover?”

“Reva…” Xavier said. “Her whole group. I haven’t been able to reach Viola. That doesn’t happen unless something’s wrong or they burned their channels on purpose.”

“Or someone burned them for her,” Arlen added.

“Exactly,” Xavier said. “I want their last known location. Anything recent. Anything off-pattern.”

Arlen leaned back against the table. “You know I don’t have a badge anymore.”

“You don’t lose contacts just because you stop wearing the uniform,” Xavier said. “You were a cop. You know how to pull strings, lean on databases, make calls that don’t officially exist.”

Then she sighed, already halfway into it. “I’ll see what I can dig up. No promises.”

“That’s fine,” Xavier said. “I’m not asking for miracles. Just threads.”

Arlen studied his face for a moment, then nodded. “Give me a few hours.”

Xavier didn’t press. He turned toward the bathroom instead, already stripping his pants off as he walked.

“I’m going to shower,” he said over his shoulder. “By the time I’m done, I want to know whether I should be worried or pissed.”

By the time they left the room, Xavier’s mask was on.

It merged cleanly, like it always did, turning healed skin back into something damaged and dangerous-looking.

They went to have breakfast.

Rin was already there, elbow on the table, half-annoyed, half-relaxed in that way that only came when he trusted the company. Klatos sat across from him, wings tucked tight, posture alert even while eating like he was off-duty.

Rin glanced up when Xavier approached, eyes flicking to the mask. “Back to scary mode already?”

Xavier pulled out a chair and sat. “I like consistency.”

Klatos tilted his head slightly. “You wear it when you leave the room now.”

“Always,” Xavier said. “It keeps things honest.”

Rin snorted. “Yeah, honest terror.”

Arlen joined them a moment later, already scrolling through something on her slate, mind clearly elsewhere even as she ordered. Xavier didn’t interrupt her. He let her work.

Breakfast stayed light. Normal. Food, half-banter, Rin complaining about the coffee being overpriced, Klatos quietly correcting him about import taxes and Helior Prime’s supply chains.

Then they split up. Arlen headed one way with her slate and her contacts. Rin stayed with her as Xavier asked him to. While Xavier went the other way with Klatos.

They didn’t try to hide in fear of the Iron Mandate. They walked visible routes. Upper walkways. Market corridors. Transit hubs. Places with cameras that fed into systems Iron Mandate absolutely had eyes on.

Klatos talked as they moved and answered Xavier’s questions.

“AIL doesn’t operate directly inside Helior Prime,” he said. “They use shells. Logistics fronts. Security subcontractors. Anything that lets them deny involvement.”

“And as for Iron Mandate, they watch,” Klatos replied. “They mark. They wait for you to step outside the rules so they can justify burning you.”

Xavier’s mouth curved under the mask. “Then we’re giving them a show.”

Klatos glanced at him. “You’re trying to draw them out.”

“I’m trying to annoy them,” Xavier said. “There’s a difference.”

They took routes that brushed close to known AIL assets. They asked questions in the open. They let people recognize Klatos.

Iron Mandate couldn’t touch them here. Not without consequences. Not without paperwork and fallout and questions they didn’t want asked.

Which made it worse.

Because being watched without being able to act drove people into mistakes.

Klatos kept feeding him information. Old routes. Black channels. Who moved what through which layer of the city. Where Iron Mandate preferred to lean pressure instead of force.

Xavier listened, catalogued, and adjusted.

After a while, Xavier picked a place that sat right on the edge of useful and boring, a licensed trade annex tied to Helior Prime’s infrastructure grid. Half warehouse, half permit office, the kind of facility where shipping licenses, routing clearances, and cargo manifests quietly decided who got rich and who vanished. It was clean, regulated, and crawling with invisible oversight.

Exactly the kind of place Iron Mandate hated being seen near.

They’d barely taken ten steps past the intake scanners when they were surrounded. Six of them detached from different corners of the room like they’d always been there. Plain clothes, matching posture, eyes that didn’t bother pretending they weren’t evaluating threat angles and exit routes.

The lead man smiled first.

“Ugly face,” he said, like they were old acquaintances. “Good to finally see you in person.”

Klatos’s hand twitched near his side. Xavier stopped him with a small motion of his fingers.

“You’re not subtle,” Xavier said. “That’s either confidence or stupidity.”

The man’s smile didn’t fade. “We’re not here to hurt you. You know we can’t.”

Xavier tilted his head a fraction. “So you’re here to waste my time.”

“We’re here to deliver an invitation,” the man replied. “Our superior would like to meet you for lunch. In a civil way.”

Klatos let out a short breath. “You don’t do civil.”

The man glanced at him, amused. “We do when it benefits us.”

He turned back to Xavier. “The venue is the Aurex Club. Private level. Today. Your presence only. This isn’t a summons. It’s an opportunity.”

Xavier didn’t respond right away. He studied their stance, their spacing, the way none of them drifted too close. They weren’t trying to intimidate him.

They were trying to look reasonable.

“And if I say no?” Xavier asked.

The man shrugged. “Then you don’t go. And we assume you’re not interested in talking before things get complicated.”

Klatos stepped forward half a pace. “You already complicated things.”

The man smiled again, softer this time. “That’s Jupiter.”

He tapped the side of his slate once, a silent confirmation sent somewhere else, then stepped back. The rest of them followed, peeling away cleanly, leaving no trace except the way the room felt slightly smaller after they were gone.

Klatos waited until they were out of sight before speaking.

“No,” he said immediately. “You’re not going.”

Xavier turned toward him as they exited the facility. “I didn’t say I was.”

“That club is Iron Mandate territory,” Klatos continued. “Neutral on paper. Owned by three shell fronts that all answer to the same people. You walk in there alone, you hand them leverage.”

Xavier nodded. “Agreed.”

“They’ll probe you,” Klatos said. “Test limits. Push for concessions. If you refuse, they’ll remember.”

Xavier’s pace didn’t change. “They’ll remember either way.”

Klatos stopped walking. “I’m serious. This isn’t like baiting cameras or irritating logistics chiefs. That’s a table where people decide who lives quietly and who dies loudly.”

Xavier stopped too, turning to face him. “Which is why I told you I’m not going.”

Klatos studied him for a long second, searching for the crack that usually showed up before Xavier did something reckless. He didn’t find one.

“Good,” Klatos said finally. “Then we stay clear. Let Arlen finish digging, and stay hidden.”

Xavier gave a faint nod. “That’s the plan.”

They headed back toward the transit ring together, talking routes, fallback positions, contingency moves that never mentioned the Aurex Club again.

Klatos relaxed by degrees.

Which was why he didn’t notice when Xavier slowed. Didn’t notice when Xavier took a different exit ramp under the pretense of checking a market kiosk. Didn’t notice until he turned and Xavier wasn’t beside him anymore.

Klatos swore under his breath, spinning once, eyes scanning the crowd.

“Son of a—”

Xavier was already gone.

Movement blending into Helior Prime’s upper foot traffic like he’d always been part of it.

By the time Klatos realized what he’d done, Xavier was already on a private lift heading toward a club that served its meals with smiles, contracts, and knives hidden behind polished glass.

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