Page 108 of They Break Beauty

Just how much remained to be seen.

He would’ve likely discovered that she was Curt Walker’s daughter, perhaps what the guy used to do before his small business empire had gotten up and running six years ago.

But even if he knew that, there was a barrier in place thanks to my dad between all of that and the kidnapping. Rob Brown was good, but I had faith in my dad’s abilities too.

Even then, though, I didn’t like Mason knowing anything about Brianna, beyond her being a student here and her field of study. To Mason, information was most definitely power and he always found the most opportune—and when he was on a tear, the most destructive—way to use what he discovered on those he’d targeted—or marked, in this case.

Goddammit!

With a roar, I whipped my bo-staff at the side of Chase’s head, knocking him out cold.

Then I stormed down the stairs and made my way out of the farmhouse, stepping over the bloodied and beaten unconscious fools as I went, reveling in the power I’d unleashed and the punishment I’d dealt out, the eerie, stone-cold silence and the scent of blood rolling through me like the sweetest drug.

Still, it wasn’t enough to quell the rage and anxiousness all of this had elicited.

Mason’s moves were complicating everything and throwing up barriers all over the fucking place.

All this tonight, it was just a temporary fix. A Band-Aid on a sucking chest wound kind of deal.

But that was all I needed—to pause things, to create an interim reprieve so I could put certain things in place.

He thought he could throw up barriers at me and I’d just take it lying down because it was him, or because he had an army at his back?

Big fucking mistake.

He was about to get one fuck of a wakeup call.

Tonight would look like nothing.

Shouldn’t have come at her, brother.

22

~Colton~

“You’re making it aggravatingly difficult for Hex,” Mason’s voice came eerily calm as I stormed into the living room, the complete opposite of the faux relaxed demeanor he was putting on.

Well, judging by him sitting on the edge of the couch and working on his lock picking hobby on the coffee table, it was more like him fighting to make his fake control real. He only really brought out the lock picking when he was agitated. Considering there were four different locks out this time instead of the usual two at a time, it seemed to support my theory.

“Good,” I bit back as I stopped in front of the sleek white marble coffee table that Lev had picked out, just like everything in the house. The guy had good taste, no doubt.

Rounding it to get up closer, like in his face or some shit, wasn’t a good idea with how riled up I was right now.

I’d barely been able to concentrate in my classes all day because of all this bullshit. Sure, yeah, I had a known issue with my focus and all that, but today had been more than that. It was because of what Mason and his soldiers had pulled this morning. And all the shit before that too. It was all just escalating.

I’d stayed away late into the night inside the recording studio. Not even recording, because I hadn’t had my time booked, just sitting in on some other students’ sessions quietly—all to avoid coming home while he was still up. That hadn’t exactly worked out with him still wide awake past fucking midnight. I’d known if I hadn’t been able to sleep on it before seeing him, I wouldn’t have been able to contain myself when I laid eyes on him.

That was how I calmed down, taking a nap, or sleeping it off through the night. Some people unleashed anger with violence, others stuffed their faces with junk food, some when for a drive, but mine was sleep.

“You’re being fucking insane with all this bullshit, Mason!” I yelled, slamming my hands down on the coffee table and rocking his locks and all his specialized picks too.

He grunted, but didn’t look up at me, focusing on the immediate task ahead of him instead.

Responding in a nonchalant tone, he said, “That’s your opinion. Your biased opinion, I might add.”

Urgh. I hated when he got like this, giving me that fake calm and condescending tone, like I couldn’t possibly be right over him, like he was some all-knowing entity seeing things I couldn’t begin to comprehend.

“You’ve crossed a goddamn line!”

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