Page 51 of Mason

That’s something I’m not okay with.

But even I can admit that she’s safer with Brando than she ever was with me.

Because if nothing else, I know he’d torch the world for her.

And that’s enough for me.

Because I couldn’t stand the misery in her eyes every time she visited me. Couldn’t stomach the way she looked at me like she still saw the man I used to be.

Because every time she’d sit across from me, eyes full of questions I couldn’t answer, I’d have to lie to her. Again.

And I couldn’t keep doing it.

So I pushed her away.

I made her hate me.

And now?

We haven’t spoken since that day in the prison when I told her to go home and leave me the hell alone.

That alone is killing me.

I push the thought away as I reach for the door, already preparing to leave, already planning my next stop.

But as expected, the soft patter of Shelby’s feet follows me through the small house, her presence lingering behind me like an unspoken question.

I glance back as I fling the door open, intending to tell her I’ll be back later.

But she doesn’t meet my eyes.

She looks past me.

And the color drains from her face.

A flicker of unease tightens in my gut as I turn, following her gaze.

And then I come face to face with the bane of my existence.

Saxon fucking North.

His cold, calculating eyes sweep over me, then flick to Shelby, his mouth pressing into a smirk that makes my fists clench.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” he drawls. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Ironside.”

My teeth grind together as the pieces fall into place. Because I know Saxon North. He never shows up without an agenda.

The tension thickens, heavy between us, crackling in the charged air.

I exhale slowly, already knowing this morning just got a whole lot more complicated.

Saxon North is standingon Shelby’s porch like he owns the goddamn place, and it takes every ounce of discipline, control, and sheer willpower not to rip his throat out for the audacity alone.

What the fuck is he doing here?

“What are you doing here, Ironside?”

His voice is clipped, his patience already worn thin, and I wonder if it’s a morning thing or if it’s just me.

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