Page 141 of Mason

Someone hurt her. Broke her. Made her flinch from me.

And I’m going to burn their fucking world to the ground for it.

One name, one bullet, one soul at a time.

38

SAXON

David Eddy’s disappearance was unexpected, but it should have been a clean cut. No body, no witnesses, no evidence pointing anywhere. I know he went into Shelby Monroe’s house breathing and came out in a body bag. I may not have the whole picture, but I know he’s dead with everything in me.

But the Bureau doesn’t need proof to start asking questions.

They just need a reason to keep digging.

And now, they have one.

I lean back in my chair, my office bathed in the pale glow of my computer screen, reports spread out in front of me. Multiple files are stacked on my desk, which is a graveyard of unfinished paperwork, but there’s really only one file that matters to me at the moment.

Because this file?

This one’s fresh. It’s personal.

And it has Mason Ironside’s name all over it.

I rub my jaw, skimming my notes.

Someone's been digging. The wrong kind of people are asking the wrong kind of questions. And the pieces? They’re starting to align.

A former Fed, turned rogue. A disappearance that doesn’t make sense. A woman he had a history with. A brutal attack that should have put her in the ground.

If they keep pushing, if they keep pulling at the thread—the Feds will find their way to Mason Ironside.

And then?

Then, I’ll have to make a choice.

A choice I never should have to fucking make.

I stare at Shelby’s name in the file, next to David’s. Her injuries. The reports.

The only thing worse than knowing Mason killed David Eddy is knowing that he did it for the right reasons.

That if Mason hadn’t done it, I probably would have.

The bastard deserved worse than what he got.

And now?

The only thing standing between Mason and an orange jumpsuit is me.

I close the file, pressing my fingers against my temples, exhaling slow.

Because I already know what I’m about to do.

I know what this means.

What it costs. The line I’m toeing—thin as wire, sharp as a blade.

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