Page 123 of Mason

I take a slow breath, lifting my chin just enough to feign disinterest as I glance at Kadri, who lounges in the doorway, watching me like a man watching his dog perform a trick.

“You want in, Walsh? You want to do business with me?” He gestures lazily toward Maxine. “Then prove yourself. Fuck my pet.”

A test.

A power play.

My jaw clenches, but my face stays impassive.

This is what I signed up for.

Undercover operations aren’t about comfort. They’re about playing a role until your own reflection starts to look like a stranger.

I’m Devon Walsh, arms dealer. Ruthless. Wealthy. Unmoved by the suffering of others.

I don’t react. I don’t let the revulsion show.

Instead, I step forward.

Maxine flinches, her breath catching, but she doesn’t back away.

She’s been through worse.

I already know that.

She doesn’t know who I am.

Not yet.

I reach her, my body blocking her from Kadri’s view.

When I lean in, I keep my lips barely an inch from her ear, my voice just loud enough for her to hear.

“I’m a Fed.”

She tenses so hard I feel it through my suit jacket.

I slide a hand up her bare arm, slow, careful—keeping up the act as I whisper, “I need you to play along. You’re safe with me. Just pretend. Kadri’s watching.”

Her breathing is uneven, her pulse hammering beneath my fingertips.

I know what she’s thinking.

I know she wants to believe me, but she’s been through too much to trust a stranger, let alone a man in this house.

But then?—

She blinks rapidly.

It’s slight. Barely perceptible.

But it’s enough.

I tilt her chin up, giving Kadri the best angle, because I know that bastard is watching.

The second my lips touch her skin, she shivers.

I move slowly, deliberately, my hands only touching the places I have to touch, my mouth only pressing where necessary.

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