Page 104 of Mason

I sitat the long table, my fingers drumming against the polished wood, my leg bouncing in restrained fury. The men file in, one by one, each taking their place, the weight of what’s about to happen settling into the air like an unspoken decree.

Scar sits at the head, his expression carved from stone. Kanyan takes his usual place beside him, his dark eyes scanning the room, measuring the tension in the air. Lucky Gatti leans back in his chair, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, but even he isn’t as relaxed as he pretends to be. The stakes are too high for that.

Scar clears his throat. “We’ve gathered from Clay Monroe that Shelby has been taken over the existence of a hard drive. But he has no idea who exactly?”

Scar seems confused. How can you knowwhybut notwho? Don’t the two obviously go hand in hand?

A muscle ticks in my jaw as I fight back the urge to smash my fist into the table. “The list of suspects is long and only growing—he has enough dynamite on that drive to blow up this whole city.”

Kanyan watches me closely. “You’ve seen what’s on it?”

My fists clench at my sides.Shelby is out there, and we’re still sitting here, talking?

“No, but to hear him talk about it, it’s explosive.”

Scar leans forward. “Our men are combing through surveillance footage, tapping into police reports—anything that looks remotely related. Our hackers are trying to access camera feeds across the city to try to track the van that was seen leaving the school.”

“And if that doesn’t work?”

My voice is low, controlled, but my rage simmers beneath it, barely leashed.

Scar’s lips curve slightly, but there’s no humor in it. “Then we stop looking. And start burning.”

Kanyan nods. “We send a message. We’ve made it known that anyone who even breathes near Shelby without our permission is a dead man walking.”

I exhale through my nose, the edges of my vision blurring with rage.

This isn’t enough. This is too slow.

Shelby doesn’t have time for us to play chess.

Scar must see it in my face—the raw desperation, the need to act—because he levels me with a look sharp enough to cut through my rage.

“We’ll get her back, Mason. But we do it the right way. You charging in, guns blazing, won’t do shit but get more bodies in the ground. Maybe even hers.”

His words land like a punch to the ribs, knocking the wind right out of me. I clench my jaw, swallowing the response burning the back of my throat.

He’s right. Iknowhe’s right.

But knowing it doesn’t make it any easier. It doesn’t stop the clawing need inside me todo something—to put a bullet in the bastard who took her, to rip apart every brick standing between me and Shelby.

I drag a hand down my face, trying to force some kind of control back into my body before I break something.

Scar has been here before.

So has Kanyan.

They’ve both had to live through the unbearable nightmare of a missing partner, and I know—Iknow—they feel my pain just as acutely as I do.

But it doesn’t change the fact that she’s out there.

Alone.

In danger.

And I’m standing here, wasting time.

Scar claps a firm hand on my shoulder, squeezing just enough to ground me.

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