Page 148 of Mason

And that’s worse.

“The mayor,” Scar mutters, tapping ash into a tray. “Ourfuckingmayor.”

Lucky scoffs. “Figures. Always thought he was dirty.”

“He’s not just dirty,” I say. “He’scommand centralfor this whole goddamn circus.”

Lucky grunts. “And he sent that piece of shit Sloane to handle Shelby.”

I don’t say anything.

My fists speak for me—tight, clenched, itching.

Scar exhales smoke through his nose. “Isaiah Sloane’s a small-town enforcer with a reputation for being loyal to the highest bidder. Ex-military. Dishonorable discharge. Been on our radar before.”

“He shot the two kidnappers before we could get to them,” Lucky adds, voice like a blade. “He didn’t count on Shelby surviving. But he was trying to send a clear message to Clay—that he would be next.”

“She wasn’t supposed to make it,” I say, my voice low.

The room falls into a heavy silence, my words hanging between us like smoke.

No one speaks, but I can see it in their eyes—they’re thinking about her. About what she endured. About the fact that she’s still breathing. Still standing.

After everything that was done to her.

Shelby must’ve had fire in her.

Something fierce.

A will to survive that refused to be snuffed out.

Coming back fromthat?

That takes more than strength.

That takes something primal. Something unbreakable.

She’s not just a victim.

She’s a survivor.

And I think we all feel it now—quiet and unspoken, but understood: Shelby is a fighter.

Scar stubs out the cigar, his eyes sharp.

“Taking out the mayor and Sloane won’t kill this ring.”

“No,” Kanyan agrees, “but it’llcrippleit. Send the others underground. Slow shit down.”

“Buy us time,” I add.

Scar leans forward, steepling his fingers.

“Which is something. We cut off a limb and watch the body bleed. Fine by me.”

A phone buzzes on the table.

Scar answers it, saying nothing. Just listens.

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