Page 96 of Mason

Good. Iwantto feel it.

The pain keeps me sharp. Grounded. Reminds me she’s still out there.

Then I hear it?—

The roar of tires outside.

Moments later, as he applies the final layer of gauze, I hear a string of curses outside before someone bursts through the factory doors.

Kanyan and Brando skid to a halt at the threshold, guns drawn, eyes sweeping the chaos. Kanyan sees me first.

And the storm hits.

“You stupidson of a bitch—” Kanyan’s voice is thunder as he storms toward me, his expression caught between fury and fear. “What thefuckwere you thinking?!”

“I didn’t have time to wait,” I say, voice raw. “They took Shelby. I couldn’t?—”

“Youcould’ve died,” he snaps, stepping in close, chest to chest. “You could’ve died, Mason. You walked into a trap like a goddamn amateur.”

“Iknewit was a trap.” My voice is low now, clipped. “But if there was even achanceshe was inside?—”

“And what good are you to her if you're a corpse?” Kanyan’s voice breaks on that last word—barely. But I hear it.

Behind him, Brando stands silently watching.

“You think this is noble?” Kanyan goes on, voice quieter now, but no less lethal. “You think playing martyr makes you a hero? It doesn’t. It makes you reckless. It makes you a liability. And you don’tgetto be a liability, not to us.Not to her.”

I meet his gaze.

Something shifts behind his eyes. The rage slips—just a crack—and something raw slips through.

“We’re supposed to be brothers, Mason.” His voice is gravel. “And I can’t fucking stomach the thought of losinganotherbrother.”

The silence stretches between us.

That lands harder than the blast.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

Kanyan doesn’t speak for a long moment. He just watches me like he’s still making sure I’m standing, still breathing.

Then he tucks his emotions away and jerks his chin at Marco. “Wrap him up. Fast. We need to move.”

Because this isn’t over until we get Shelby home.

Home.

The word slithers through me like a wound. Raw. Bleeding. Constant.

I’ve never had one. Not really. Not until Lizzie and Tommy. Not until the girls. Not untilher.

And now? Now it feels like every broken part of me has rooted itself in Shelby Monroe—like if I don’t get her back, I’ll never be whole again.

It makes no sense.

It makesallthe sense.

She’s not mine. Not officially. Not by name or title or blood.

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