Page 45 of Mason

That thought should scare me.

But it doesn’t.

What scares me is the fact that I want it.

I want to see how far this can go.

I want to see what happens if I stop holding back.

I want to keep unraveling for him—and I want to watch him fall apart for me.

I bite my lip, my heart pounding harder than it should as I stare at him, my body already shifting closer, drawn to him like a gravitational force.

I don’t know what we are.

I don’t know what happens next.

But I have a feeling I’m going to find out.

15

SHELBY

The drive is quiet, but not uncomfortable.

Mason’s fingers tap absently against the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the road, always assessing his surroundings. Whatever he does, he must be very good at it.

When we pull up to my house, my stomach tightens.

The last time I was here, David was still alive.

Mason must sense it because he puts the car in park, then glances at me.

“Wait here.”

I blink. “What?”

He pops the door open. “Just making sure everything’s clean.”

He’s already out before I can argue.

I let out a breath, watching as he steps through my front door, his broad frame disappearing inside.

I sit there for a full minute, then another.

And then, unable to help myself, I follow him in.

The house is pristine.

Too clean.

No signs of what happened here.

No bloodstains, no bullet holes, no shattered glass.

Just empty space, a hollow silence where a man came to die.

I wonder if I imagined the whole thing. But no, I can’t have. Because Mason is my witness.

---