Page 12 of Mason

Didn’t come to thank him for pulling me out of yesterday’s mess—he knows damn well I can handle myself.

No, my standing beside him in the prison yard right now isn’t an accident. It’s something else, something bigger. And Ghost knows it too. Even if he won’t come right out and ask it.

He watches me, expectant, his body relaxed but not at ease. Like a predator waiting for his prey to step closer. Just close enough.

I exhale, slow and steady. “You read people well.”

“I survive well,” he corrects, his smirk deepening just a fraction. “The two aren’t so different.”

I glance around the yard, let my gaze sweep over the inmates, over the guards leaning against the fences like they don’t give a shit what happens in here. “If you survive so well, why are you still here?”

Ghost tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “You think I want to be here?”

“I think if youreallywanted to be out, you would be.”

His expression doesn’t change, but I know I’ve hit on something. A truth he doesn’t want to acknowledge, or maybe one he just doesn’t care to share. Instead, he shifts, turning his attention back to Clay, watching him with something almost resembling interest.

“And you?” he asks. “Why areyouhere, Ironside?” He studies me again, the way he did when I first approached. Like he’s picking apart the layers of my skin, searching for the pieces I don’t show anyone. “Not for a traffic violation.”

“No.”

“Not for something small.”

“No.”

Ghost grins, slow and sharp. “Then I suppose you came to the right place.”

I smirk. “Did I?”

His eyes darken, a flicker of something unreadable shifting behind them. “You came looking for me.”

I don’t answer.

Because he already knows I came here for him.

I offer Ghost a lifeline.A man doing life has nothing left but time, and time is a cruel thing—it stretches, it suffocates, it makes ghosts out of men long before they’re dead. And Ghost? He’s got no reason to believe he’ll ever breathe free air again. He’s running out of appeals. He has no second chances. No exit strategy.

Until now.

Because I can give him something he hasn’t had in ten years.

A chance. Hope.

I have the means, the resources, and if there’s one thing men like me don’t do, it’s make promises we don’t intend to keep. If I say I can get him out, I will. No question.

“There’s a transfer coming in a few days,” I say, keeping my voice even, my tone casual. “I need him taken care of.”

Ghost doesn’t blink, doesn’t look remotely surprised. If he was a killer on the outside, there’s no reason he can’t be one on the inside. I already know I won’t be here much longer—Saxon North will make damn sure I don’t cross paths with Altin Kadri. So I have to pivot. Rework the plan. Because there’s no way in hell I let that bastard get deported. No way I let him slip out of reach. Not after what he’s done. If he makes it back to his own home turf, he’ll be lost to us on foreign terrain, and vengeance for what he’s done will be a long-forgotten memory.

Ghost watches me, then smirks. “What makes you think I’m your man?”

“Because you have nothing to lose. And everything to gain.”

“Such as?”

He’s interested. That’s good. Even if he keeps his posture loose, his eyes scanning the yard with calculated disinterest, I know I have his attention now. He just doesn’t want anyone else to know he’s invested in our conversation. Smart.

“A way out,” I say. “And by that, I don’t mean footing your legal bills. Better than that.”

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