Page 45 of My Secret Santa Mason

I took a step back. “I’ll scream,” I threatened. It would be pointless, though. The cottages were too far apart, and everyone was out during the day, doing their thing. I doubted anyone would hear.

One of the men laughed—a dark, cruel sound that sent a chill down my spine. “Go ahead,” he said. “No one’s coming for you.”

Before I could react, the scarred man lunged at me, grabbing me by the arm. I tried to twist away, but his grip was like iron, and fear shot through me like a lightning bolt. “Let me go!” I screamed, thrashing against him, kicking, clawing—anything to get him off.

“Stop struggling,” he growled, his breath hot on my face as he yanked me closer. “We’re not here to hurt you—unless you make us.”

I didn’t believe him for a second. I fought harder, panic making my movements frantic, desperate. I twisted in his grip, managing to land a kick to his shin, but it only pissed him off. He grabbed me by the hair, yanking my head back.

“Enough!” he snarled, his voice filled with venom.

But I wasn’t going down without a fight. I clawed at his face, scratched at his skin, trying to force him to let go, but he was too strong. His fist connected with the side of my head, and the world exploded into stars, pain radiating through my skull.

I staggered, my vision blurring as I tried to stay on my feet, tried to keep fighting, but everything was slipping away. The room was spinning, the voices around me distant, muffled, like they were underwater.

I felt another blow—this time to my ribs—and I crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath. I couldn’t fight anymore. I couldn’t keep going. My body wouldn’t cooperate, wouldn’t respond. Everything was going dark.

The last thing I saw was the scarred man’s cruel smile as he stood over me, his eyes filled with malice.

“Bring her,” someone else said.

And then everything went black.

20

MASON

The rhythmic scrape of metal against stone filled the cabin, a steady sound that echoed in the quiet. I held the blade at just the right angle, dragging it slowly across the whetstone in long, deliberate strokes. It was almost hypnotic, the way the knife hissed with each pass, the tension in my chest easing just a fraction with every scrape. Up, down, up, down—the motion as familiar to me as breathing.

This was something I could control. Something I could perfect.

The blade gleamed in the dim light, sharp enough to cut through anything. The focus kept my mind steady when everything else was spinning out of control.

I needed to feel like I could still handle whatever the fuck was coming.

I was halfway through sharpening my knife when there was a knock on the cabin door—a sharp hammering that broke through the silence like a gunshot.

My grip tightened on the blade, and I let out a low growl. Not in the fucking mood. Not after everything that happened with Cami.

My head was still spinning from it all—how she’d brought Wallace and his crew right back into my life, how she’d betrayed me. It wasn’t her fault, maybe, but fuck if it didn’t feel that way. She should’ve known better.

Should she have?a small voice asked, but I squashed the voice.Shut the fuck up.

I stood up, tossed the knife onto the table, and stalked over to the door. I yanked it open, half-expecting Tanner. I was ready to tell him to piss off, but instead, Rae stood there, her face pale, her eyes wide with fear.

“What are you doing up here?”

Rae used to come up into the woods when Tanner still lived up here, but she was a city girl, and since they’d settled in town, she hadn’t been between the trees all that much. It was more Tanner’s thing.

“Mason,” she blurted out, her voice shaking. “It’s Cami. She’s gone.”

My stomach twisted, a cold knot forming deep inside me. I swallowed hard, trying to keep the sudden rush of panic from showing on my face.

“Good riddance,” I grumbled, stepping back from the door. I couldn’t let Rae see how much that news cut into me. “She fucked things up enough already.”

“What?” Rae cried out. “What are you talking about?”

“Didn’t she tell you?” I snorted. “I guess she wouldn’t. Did she make it look like I was the bad guy instead?”

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