Page 23 of My Secret Santa Mason

MASON

Ididn’t like being in town. Not with all the Christmas cheer hanging in the air, making everything feel too easy, too normal. It was enough to make me gag.

The streets were packed with people, smiling and laughing, bundled up in scarves and thick coats as snow fell in soft flakes. The holiday lights glittered overhead, reflecting off the snow-covered streets, while the overpowering smell of pine hung in the air.

The fuss and the decorations and all the other crap was just a distraction, extra noise I didn’t need.

Underneath all that, something felt wrong and it looked like I was the only one to pick up on it.

Everyone else was too fucking happy, drinking in the Christmas cheer.

See?Distraction.

I stepped out of the general store, a bag of spices in hand, ready to get the hell out of dodge and get back to my cabin where I would spice my meat, hang it to dry over a slow fire, smoke theshit out of it, and keep it for when I needed a bit of jerky to chew on.

I was just about to step down when I saw him.

For a moment, my blood ran cold, and I tasted my heart in my throat. It had been decades since I’d seen him, but the sight of his face hit me like a freight train.

John Wallace.

I froze, my chest tightening as he slipped into the crowd, so quickly I wasn’t sure that I’d seen what I’d seen. My mind raced, the years peeling back as the past slammed into me. Wallace was here. Had my eyes deceived me? Maybe it was just my paranoia conjuring up ghosts from my past.

My body kicked into action again, the initial shock replaced by pure adrenaline.

I pushed through the crowd, the powdered snow giving way underfoot with each step, heart pounding as I tried to track him. My instincts screamed at me, every sense on high alert. He was just a blur among people, moving fast, slipping between them like a shadow, and by the time I reached the corner, he was gone.

Fuck.

I scanned the area, trying to keep my breathing steady, my eyes darting from one person to the next.

Nothing.

I was definitely seeing ghosts. My mind had to be playing tricks on me. There was no fucking way Wallace was here. He couldn’t possibly have found me. I’d been so careful, and it had been more than a decade…

The cold crept into my bones while I stood there and I had a nagging feeling in my gut. Wallace had been the one to betray us. He’d sold out our team, worked with Viktor Kovalenko’s smuggling ring, and nearly got us all killed in the process. I had a bone to pick with him.

In short… I wanted him dead.

Seeing him now, in Silver Ridge, of all places, made my skin crawl.

I moved back toward the center of town, scanning the streets. More strangers were milling about, people I didn’t recognize.

Tourists, probably. But I didn’t trust them. Not after what I thought I’d just seen. They were too comfortable, blending in too easily, and that was exactly the kind of thing I’d been trained to notice.

A group of them gathered near Jake O’Hara’s bar, laughing and talking like they belonged. I narrowed my eyes as one of them clapped Jake on the back, grinning like they were old friends. But I knew better.

This was a tactic I’d seen before—get friendly, make yourself part of the scenery, and no one suspects a thing. But I wasn’t fooled. I’d lived this life long enough to know when something was off.

I made my way toward the bar, watching as they disappeared inside. Jake had been in town forever, always quick to make friends and draw in customers, but these people? They were strangers. And strangers in my town, especially now, were a problem.

I huffed and turned, the snow falling softly around me, and I started the trek back up to my cabin.

While I marched, the memories came rushing back.

It had been a routine mission—or at least, that’s what we thought. My team had been tasked with taking down Viktor Kovalenko, a ruthless ex-military operative who’d built an empire out of smuggling weapons, drugs, and just about anything else that could make him rich. It was supposed to be simple.

Get in, dismantle his operation, get out.

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