Page 25 of Mason

She needs protection.

She needs to know that someone is watching her back.

And whether she likes it or not, that someone is going to be me until her brother makes it back home to her.

I don’t waste another second. I shift into gear and gun it, the engine roaring as I tear through the empty streets, heading straight back to her house.

By the time I pull up to the curb, the day has slipped into late afternoon, and the light is whispering into the night. I can feel that something isn’t right just by the way the air surrounding me shifts and settles. A tightness clamps around my ribs, pressing down like a warning. I’ve had years to hone my instincts, and they’ve rarely let me down.

I kill the engine and sit for a moment, scanning the street.

Too still.

Too quiet.

Like the whole damn block is holding its breath.

Then I see it.

The front door.

Slightly open.

Everything in me goes rigid.

Judging by the cautious way she was earlier, Shelby isn’t the type to leave her front door open. And now?—

A cold weight settles in my gut.

I step out of the car, tucking my gun into the back of my pants once again. My boots are silent against the pavement as I move toward the porch. Every instinct is screaming now—the kind that makes my blood hum, the kind that’s kept me alive in the kind of world most men don’t walk out of.

I stop at the front door and listen.

Nothing.

I watch.

The door sways slightly in the fading afternoon breeze, creaking against its hinges.

Still nothing.

But then?—

A muffled sound. Inside.

A choked noise, like someone struggling.

I draw my gun before I even realize I’ve done it, my fingers steady on the grip. I push the door open with my shoulder, stepping inside—slow, controlled. The air inside the house is thick, suffocating.

Itsmellslike fear.

Then I see them.

Shelby is pinned against the wall, a man’s broad frame pressing into her. One of his hands covers her mouth, muffling her cries. The other grips her waist hard enough to bruise. The top of her dress is torn, and the man’s face is buried between her breasts. She thrashes, jerking against him, her legs kicking, but he’s too strong. Too determined to get what he came here for.

Neither of them hears or sees me as I step further into the room, the carpet muffling the sound of my heavy footfalls.

I don’t hesitate.

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