Page 56 of Rage

“Mason,” I breathe, unsure if I’m asking him to stop or begging for more.

He chuckles, low and wicked.“Like that, do you?”His teeth graze my earlobe.“Tell me what you want, Meadow.I’ll give you anything.”

My hips rock involuntarily, seeking more friction.“I… I don’t know,” I admit, flustered by the intensity of my own desire.“This is all so new.”

Mason’s free hand tilts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.His eyes blaze with hunger and something softer.“We’ve got all the time in the world to figure it out,” he murmurs.“No rush, no pressure.Just us.”

He leans in, capturing my lips in a searing kiss.I melt into him, last night’s shyness forgotten.His fingers move with purpose now, stoking the flames higher.I gasp into his mouth, overwhelmed by the sensation.

A sharp knock shatters the moment.We freeze, hearts pounding in tandem.

“Mason!”Christopher’s voice is urgent.“We’ve got a situation.Peterson’s made contact.”

Mason tenses, a low sound rumbling in his chest.“Fuck,” he mutters.His eyes meet mine, conflicted.“I’ve gotta?—”

I nod, pushing down my disappointment.“Go,” I say.“It’s okay.”

He kisses me hard, pouring unspoken promises into the contact.Then he’s up, pulling on clothes with swift efficiency.I watch him transform from my tender lover to the dangerous biker, armor settling into place with each layer.

Mason pauses at the door, his gaze intense.“This isn’t over,” he vows, voice low and heated.“We’ll finish what we started.Count on it.”

With that, he’s gone.The door clicks shut behind him, leaving me alone with the lingering warmth of his touch and the growing dread of what news awaits us downstairs.

* * *

MASON

I stride into church, fire simmering beneath my skin.Christopher’s poorly timed interruption still grates, but the weight of club business settles heavy on my shoulders.The familiar scent of leather and stale smoke hits me as I take my seat.

Liam’s eyes bore into me from across the table.I meet his gaze, unflinching.Let him stare.I’ve got nothing to hide.

“Nice of you to join us, brother,” Christopher quips, a smirk playing at his lips.

I grunt, not rising to the bait.“What’s the situation?”

The room falls silent.Tension crackles in the air.Liam leans forward, his knuckles white as he grips the edge of the table.

“Peterson made contact,” he repeats.“Left a message at the hospital.For Meadow.”

My blood runs cold.Rage claws at my insides, demanding release.“What kind of message?”

Christopher slides a photo across the table.My stomach turns as I take it in.A dead rat, its belly sliced open.A note pinned to its corpse:You’re next, bitch.

Red bleeds into the edges of my vision.I want to tear Peterson apart with my bare hands.Make him suffer for daring to threaten what’s mine.

“Where?”I demand, my voice barely human.

“Left at the nurses’ station,” Liam replies.“Security footage shows a kid dropping it off.Paid courier.”

I slam my fist on the table.The resounding crack echoes through the room.“We need to end this.Now.”

Liam’s eyes narrow.“And how do you propose we do that, hotshot?Peterson’s in the wind.We’ve got no leads.”

I lean back, forcing myself to breathe.“Liam, you may be Meadow’s father, but disrespect me again and I will lay you out.”

Liam pushes his seat out.“Fine, you and me in the ring.”He points between the two of us.

I grin; this is the best news I’ve heard all fucking week, and I can hear my brothers grumbling under their breaths.

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