Page 126 of Mason

Then, she shoves past me. Her shoulder knocks into mine, a little too hard, just enough to sting, just enough to make a point. I don’t stop her. I don’t turn around. I just stand there, my jaw tight, my fists clenched, as her footsteps fade down the hallway.

Brando lets out a long, slow breath. “Jesus.”

I don’t answer.

I just turn toward Shelby’s door, my mind still on Maxine.

I can’t go back and fix the past.

But I can damn well make sure Shelby doesn’t end up another name on my list of regrets.

Lucky clears his throat beside me, subtle but strategic, like he’s trying to let the tension drain off just enough to keep the walls from cracking.

Mia slips into the edge of my vision, her small hand landing gently on Brando’s arm—his anchor. His steadying point.

Meanwhile, I slide my hands into my pockets and turn slightly toward Lucky, keeping my voice calm, casual, but clipped.

That’s when I see him.

Mason.

Stalking toward us like a loaded gun with a vendetta.

And that’s my cue to leave.

“I need to know when Shelby wakes,” I say, my tone low but firm. “David Eddy’s gone missing. And I don’t think the timing is a coincidence.”

Lucky eyes me, curious. “You think it’s connected?”

I nod once. “Whatever Clay Monroe got himself into, someone’s cleaning house. Tying up loose ends.”

And Shelby?

She’s one of them.

35

MASON

Time doesn’t move in this room. It just sits.

Thick. Suffocating.

Every second that ticks by feels like it’s dragging claws down my spine.

I sit rigid, elbows on my knees, hands locked together so tight my knuckles have gone bone-white. I’ve stared at the same crack in the tile for what feels like hours, and every time my foot taps the floor, I remind myself that I’m still here. Still waiting.

Still powerless.

Maxine’s pacing again—three tiles, turn, three more. A habit she’s clinging to like a lifeline, because the alternative is thinking too hard about what’s happening behind those double doors. She doesn’t speak, and I don’t blame her. If I open my mouth right now, I’m afraid I’ll scream.

The others murmur, low conversations in corners. Lucky checking his watch. Brando rubbing Mia’s shoulder. There’s an army in this room, but no one can fight what’s happening inside that goddamn operating room.

Shelby.

Bleeding. Cut open. Holding on by a thread.

My leg bounces, and I can’t stop it. My body’s vibrating with adrenaline that has nowhere to go. Rage, guilt, fear—they’re all tangled together inside me, eating me alive. I keep replaying it. The dead look in her eyes when I found her under that overpass. The blood on her shirt. The way her body felt too light in my arms, like she was already halfway gone.

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