Page 115 of Mason

She doesn’t move.

I grab her face, force her head to lift just a fraction.

Her lips are cracked, bloodied, her breath so faint I have to strain to feel it.

“Shelby, baby, stay with me.”

I press my hand to a wound on her head, try to stop the bleeding, but there’s so much of it.

“Fuck.” My voice shakes. “Don’t you fucking do this to me. Don’t you dare.”

Her lashes flutter.

Just once.

Hope blooms inside me.

Then she goes still.

No.

I gather her into my arms, my heart slamming against my ribs as I run for the car.

She’s so small like this. So fragile.

I can’t lose her.

I won’t.

Jayson throws open the passenger door, and I cradle her against me as I slide into the back seat. Jayson presses his foot to the gas, taking off without a word.

Every second counts.

Every breath she takes is a battle she’s barely winning.

“Stay with me, Shelby.”

I don’t recognize my own voice.

Broken. Raw.

I don’t pray. I never have. I’ve never felt the need to.

But right now, I do.

Because if she dies…if she dies…

I won’t just kill the men who did this.

I’ll wipe them from existence.

I’ll hunt their families, their friends, anyone who’s ever breathed the same air as them.

I’ll burn their legacy to the ground, salt the fucking earth, and when that’s not enough, I’ll dig up their corpses and kill them all over again until no one remembers their names.

Because when I’m done, they won’t fucking exist.

The waitingroom is too fucking bright.

---