Page 7 of Mason

Had the audacity to cut the head off our war before we could sharpen the blade. Saxon and his federal squadron of cowards swooped in and arrested Altin Kadri—the bastard who kidnapped my brothers’ partners, who bled us dry, who wanted to own the Moreno throne—and they put him in chains before we could put him in the ground.

He stole our kill.

Stole ourrevenge.

Altin Kadri should be dead. He should be a bloodstain on a dock somewhere, sinking into the sea with his sins stitched to his chest. Instead? He’s behind bars, smiling for mugshots, waiting for a trial that should never come.

Because of Saxon North.

And now here he is, standing before me, wearing that smug little expression like this is just another day at the fucking office.

I stare him down. I don’t blink.

He’s persona non grata with the Five Families. With Seattle. With theentiregoddamn mafia.

But me?

I’m the one he should worry about.

Because there’s only one reason I haven’t put a bullet between his eyes yet?—

After the initial shock of him walking in, even Mia—furious as she was—seemed to decide it was safer to retreat. She and Maxine slipped out of the visitor’s room without a word, without a glance back, though I could still feel Mia’s fury trailing behind her like smoke.

I watch as his polished shoes scrape against the grimy floor. He steps into the dim light, eyes locking onto mine with that too-calm expression, the one that never changes. It’s always like he’s standing over you, watching, weighing every little thing you do. But I can see through it. I know a predator when I see one. Because we all look the same, at the end of the day.

“Didn’t know this was one of your preferred stomping grounds, Saxon,” I mutter, leaning back against the cold concrete wall. My voice is rough from the stale air, but I make it sound casual. Like I’m not about to tear this motherfucker apart.

He doesn’t reply right away, just steps closer. He’s wearing that sharp suit, like he’s here for business, though we both know it’s more than that. He’s not here to talk about my arrest. He’s here because he’s been watching me. And he ruined my visit with my daughters, goddamn it.

I watch him close the gap, his eyes scanning me for any hint of weakness. It’s the same game he’s been playing since I first met him. But this time, something’s different. He knows something I don’t.

“Imagine my surprise when your name came up in conversation—that you’d been transported here of all places,” Saxon finally says, his voice calm, calculated. He leans against the bars of my cell, arms crossed, trying to play off the underlying tension in the way he stands. I can do tension real calm, but this asshole tries—and fails—to appear calm and collected. There’s a nervous tension radiating through him even as his eyes search mine.

My lip curls into a sneer. “You have a point in there somewhere?”

“You’re not stupid,” he continues, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve been in the game long enough, you’ve dodged prison for decades, and now you’re in here on a traffic violation? How does that work, Ironside?”

He all-out but directly accuses me of wrongdoing, and my expression gives him nothing. I’ve learned to keep my mask intact, no matter how sharp the knives are.

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” I say, sitting up straighter. “I broke the law. That’s why I’m in here.”

“I don’t think so,” Saxon replies, his voice icy now.

I snort. “Well, you know what they say about thinking too hard. It can be painful—watch that you don’t hurt yourself.”

He steps closer, his presence suffocating, like a predator circling its prey. I can almost feel the tension crackling between us. Saxon thinks he has me cornered—but he doesn’t understand what drives me. He doesn’t know what I’m willing to do, how far I’m willing to go, to get what I want. To do what needs to be done.

“I don’t trust you,” he says, his tone dropping to a hard, unforgiving edge. “I don’t trust that it’s a coincidence you got locked up here, the same place Kadri is being transferred to in a few weeks.”

I can’t help but laugh, though it sounds bitter. “Well, I’m sure you’ll sleep better knowing I’ll be out of here in a matter of days, if not hours, and my path won’t cross with Kadri’s.”

He doesn’t flinch. “You know what I think? I think I should put in a word for you, get you transferred to a cushy hotel room.”

I shift, my muscles coiling. “Wouldn’t want you to put yourself out.”

“I don’t know what you’re up to, Ironside,” he says, finally breaking his impassive façade to reveal a flicker of something darker. “But I’m warning you, don’t fuck me over.”

I don’t respond. He’s not wrong about me having a plan, but I’m not about to give him the satisfaction of admitting it.

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