Page 98 of Rage

Mason’s eyes lock with mine, a silent conversation passing between us.I see the love there, but also a fierce protectiveness and rage.He gives an almost imperceptible nod.

“Meadow,” he says softly, his voice a stark contrast to the tension thrumming through his body.“Close your eyes, sweetheart.Don’t look.”

I hesitate for just a moment before complying, squeezing my eyes shut tight.There’s a rustling sound as Mason reaches into his pocket, followed by the soft snick of a blade being opened.

Jenny must realize what’s happening because her struggles intensify.“No,” she gasps, her voice rising in panic.“Please, don’t?—”

Her words cut off abruptly, replaced by a wet, gurgling sound.I flinch, fighting the urge to look.The night air fills with the metallic scent of blood.

“Look at me,” Mason demands.“I want to see the light leave your eyes.”

Jenny makes a choked whimpering noise.I can picture Mason’s face, set in grim determination as he stares into the eyes of the woman who threatened everything he holds dear.

There’s a long, tense moment of silence broken only by Jenny’s labored breathing.Then, with a final, rattling gasp, she falls silent.

I hear the dull thud of a body hitting the ground, followed by Mason’s heavy footsteps approaching me.Strong arms wrap around me, pulling me against a familiar chest.I’m lifted and carried for a while.

“It’s over,” Mason murmurs, his lips brushing my ear.“You’re safe now.You can open your eyes.”

I bury my face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and smoke that clings to his cut.His heartbeat thunders beneath my ear, a steady rhythm that grounds me in the chaos of the moment.

He carries me across the moonlit yard, his boots crunching on gravel and twigs.The night air is cool against my skin, raising goosebumps along my arms.Crickets chirp in the underbrush, their song a stark contrast to the violence that just unfolded.

Mason’s grip on me tightens as he navigates around his bike.The leather seat creaks softly as he sets me down, his hands lingering on my waist to steady me.I open my eyes, blinking in the harsh glare of the headlight.

His face is cast in shadow, but I can see the tight set of his jaw, the barely contained fury still simmering in his eyes.One hand comes up to cup my cheek, his touch infinitely gentle despite the violence those same hands are capable of.

“I’m taking you home,” Mason says, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down my spine.It’s not a question or a suggestion, but a statement of fact.In this moment, I’m grateful for his decisiveness, his unwavering certainty.

I nod, unable to find my voice.Mason’s thumb brushes across my cheekbone, wiping away tears I hadn’t even realized were falling.He presses a tender kiss to my forehead before swinging his leg over the bike, settling in front of me.

The ride home passes in a blur of wind and moonlight.Mason’s solid presence anchors me as the world rushes by in a smear of shadows and starlight.The vibration of the engine thrums through my body, slowly chasing away the lingering chill of fear.

When we finally pull into the driveway, the familiar sight of our house—warm light spilling from the windows, Mason’s truck parked haphazardly in its usual spot—brings a lump to my throat.Home.Safe.

Mason cuts the engine, the sudden silence heavy with unspoken words.He helps me off the bike with gentle hands, his touch featherlight as if afraid I might shatter.I lean into him, drinking in his warmth, the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear.

We make our way inside, Mason’s arm wrapped protectively around my waist.The door clicks shut behind us, and suddenly the events of the night come crashing down.My knees buckle, a choked sob escaping my lips.

In an instant, Mason scoops me up, cradling me against his chest like I weigh nothing at all.He carries me up the stairs, murmuring soft words of comfort that I can’t quite make out through the roaring in my ears.

Our bedroom is bathed in soft lamplight, casting a warm glow over the familiar space.Mason sets me down on the edge of the bed with infinite care.His hands frame my face, tilting it up until our eyes meet.

“You’re safe,” he says, his voice low and fierce.“I’ve got you, Meadow.Always.”

I nod, unable to form words past the lump in my throat.Mason’s thumbs brush away the tears streaking down my cheeks.He presses a tender kiss to my forehead, then each eyelid, the tip of my nose, and finally, my lips.

The kiss is soft at first, a gentle reassurance.But as I respond, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, it deepens.There’s an edge of desperation to it now, both of us seeking comfort and connection after the night’s horrors.

When we finally part, both breathless, Mason rests his forehead against mine.“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmurs.

He leads me to the bathroom, turning on the shower and adjusting the temperature.With reverent hands, he helps me out of my clothes, his touch leaving trails of warmth on my skin.Once I’m under the hot spray, Mason quickly sheds his own garments and joins me.

His hands roam my body, his touch soft yet possessive.His touch ignites a fire within me, chasing away the last vestiges of fear and replacing it with a desperate need for connection.I press closer, my hands sliding over the familiar planes of his muscled chest.

“Mason,” I breathe, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.“I need you.”

A low grunt rumbles in his chest.In one fluid motion, he lifts me, pinning me against the cool tile wall.My legs wrap around his waist instinctively as his lips crash into mine.The kiss is fierce and possessive, stealing my breath and setting my nerve endings alight.

---