Page 179 of Mason

The surgeon’s already been called. Quiet. Clean. The kind of man who works for cash and conscience-free clients. Ghost will come out the other side of that table looking like someone the world’s never met.

Because the world already buried the last version of him.

And that’s how it has to stay.

“You think he’s gonna behave?” Jayson asks after a beat.

I stare out the window, watching the coastline blur by in the dark.

“No,” I say. “But I think he’s going to do exactly what we need.”

Jayson chuckles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

We both know Ghost isn't a pet.

He's a wolf.

And we just cut the leash.

We step insideone by one—me, Brando, Kanyan, and Scar. Jayson waits outside, pacing in the dark, itching for orders he’s not ready for yet. This isn’t his moment. This isours.

This is for the man we just pulled from the jaws of hell.

Ghost.

He’s already waiting in the center of the space, crouched on an overturned crate, elbows on his knees, head tilted like he hears things none of us can. He’s still wearing a caterer’s uniform, something I’m sure he’s itching to get out of.

But his eyes?

They’re clear. Focused.Empty.

Like nothing back there touched him.

Like it didn’t matter who he had to kill to step into this room.

Scar’s the first to speak. His voice echoes slightly in the cavernous space, sharp and deliberate.

“We appreciate your… contribution.”

Ghost says nothing.

Scar nods once, unbothered. “Altin Kadri was a problem. Now he’s a corpse. That earns you favor.”

Still, Ghost doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Just watches him with that calm, unsettling stillness.

Brando steps forward next, arms crossed. “We’ve had our eye on you since day one. Not many men make it out of Ford. Fewer still that erase a man who has been a stain upon this city.”

Kanyan grunts. “Even fewer manage to vanish in plain sight.”

Ghost lifts his head just slightly. “You wanted a killer,” he says, voice quiet, rough. “Now you’ve got one.”

Scar smirks. “We want more than a killer. We want aghostwho’s alive.”

I take a step closer, studying the man in front of me. Whatever he was before that prison, he’s not that now. He’s something sharper; cold and clean and brutal.

“We need you to disappear,” I say. “More than just off the books. We’ve arranged surgery. Face, hands, gait correction. You’ll walk out someone else.”

Ghost shrugs like it doesn’t matter. Like his identity died a long time ago.

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