Page 23 of Mason

My body stiffens. My skin goes hot where his hand presses against me, fingers splayed just beneath my ribs. Not gentle. Not rough. Just...certain.

Like he knows I won’t get away.

Like hewantsme to try.

His cologne hits me hard—sharp, overpowering, suffocating. It curls in the back of my throat like smoke, thick and nauseating. Every nerve in my body begs me to run. But I force myself to stand my ground, to swallow my fear and throw it right back in his face. Escape might not be an option. But defiance?That, I can do.

“Still thinking you can get away from me, wifey?”

When he sets me down and corners me against the wall, I fold my arms, hiding the tremor in my hands.

“You shouldn’t be here, David. You have no right!”

His smirk vanishes. The shift is instant, the air turning razor-sharp.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. That restraining order of yours holds no weight when it doesn’t exist.”

My breath catches, and I take a step back. Of course the restraining order has miraculously disappeared. Even when I filed it in another jurisdiction; I should have known he’d make it go away somehow. Because that’s the sort of reach that David has.

He tracks me across the room, his movements slow, calculated. A predator toying with its prey.

“I did a lot for you, Shelby. The least you could do is show a little gratitude.”

“You did nothing for me but bring me misery.”

His jaw twitches. He doesn’t like being reminded of what a worthless piece of shit he is.

I try to edge toward the kitchen—toward the knife block—but his hand shoots out, catching my wrist.

Pain lances up my arm. “David, let me go.”

“You’re my wife, and I’m never letting you go.” His fingers tighten, grinding against bone, a brutal promise disguised asaffection. He yanks me closer, his breath hot against my cheek, thick with the scent of power and possession.

“You are mine—and mine alone—until your very last breath. Even if that breath is stolen by my own hands.”

My pulse hammers, adrenaline colliding with fury. He’s done this before. Grabbed too hard. Squeezed too tight. Pushed too far. And every time, I let him get away with it.

But not now.

Now, I tell him no—and he doesn’t even flinch. My resistance is nothing more than an inconvenience, a minor rebellion he intends to crush beneath his grip.

I jerk back, throwing my full weight into it. His grip falters—just enough. I rip free, stumbling away, breath coming fast and sharp.

Disgust coils in my stomach, rising like bile. And he sees it. Feels it. His gaze darkens, flickering with something violent. Something lethal.

He’s not used to me fighting back.

But that doesn’t mean he won’t enjoy making me regret it.

He lunges.

My back slams against the wall, pain flaring through my spine. He grips my jaw, his fingers pressing into my cheeks until my teeth grind together.

“You think you can just leave me, and I’ll let you walk away?” His voice drops to a whisper, more dangerous than any shout. “You think I won’t find you? I willalwaysfind you, dear heart. And I willalwaysbring you back where you belong—with me.”

I struggle, but he presses his body against mine, trapping me between muscle and cold drywall.

My stomach twists.

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