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Logan’s silhouette appeared in the doorway, casting a long shadow over the dining room where the panel members had gathered, laughing and celebrating their supposed victory over him.

His face was smeared with soot, his clothes singed and tattered, and his eyes burned with a fury that sent a chill through the room. He had narrowly escaped the flames, defying their carefully orchestrated plot, and now he was standing there, very much alive.

The laughter around the table died instantly. Agent Wayne's glass halted mid-air, his confident grin fading into a look of disbelief. Agent Gunna’s face was drained of color, and Agent Young, usually quick to have something smug to say, could only stare, mouth slightly agape.

Agent Wayne was the first to recover, his expression shifting to one of anger. “Logan,” he muttered, “you don’t know when to quit.”

Logan took a step forward, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard. “I think it’s you who doesn’t know when to quit, Wayne. I’ve given you more than e
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