Page 30 of Mason

By the time I hang up, I already hear the low rumble of engines approaching. A pair of blacked-out SUVs glide down her street, dark and seamless against the night. No headlights as they pull up to the curb with the kind of precision that sends a clear message—these are important people with an important job to do.

Shelby stiffens beside me, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress like she can anchor herself with the feel of it. Her eyes flick to me, wide and uncertain.

“Who are they?”

I don’t answer. She’s about to find out.

The first door swings open, and Kanyan steps out, moving like a shadow cut from stone. He’s broad-shouldered, towering, his presence swallowing the space around him before he even reaches the house. His dark eyes scan the scene, sharp, assessing, and I already know he’s picking apart every weak point, every risk. That’s what a good enforcer does, and Kanyan, now a family head, got his start right up with with the best of them.

Scar follows, more relaxed but just as lethal. He’s lean, his movements controlled, his expression unreadable as his gaze lands on me. I nod once, and that’s all it takes. They don’t ask questions when we don’t have a minute to waste.

Shelby is still frozen beside me, her breath hitching as they pass. They don’t look at her. They don’t look at the body in the house. They don’t even acknowledge her existence.

She doesn’t understand this world.

To them, she’s not a person right now. She’s a problem.

The air is thick, heavy with the kind of silence that only comes before destruction. The night holds its breath, the weightof what we’re about to do pressing down like a vice. Shelby’s house is a fucking crime scene, but we can’t let it stay that way.

I step outside, letting the door shut behind me as I move into the backyard. Kanyan and Scar are already there, waiting. These aren’t just men—they’re legends in our world. One is my direct boss, the other his.

Kanyan and I run one of the Five Families, but Scar Gatti? He controls the biggest empire of them all. And at the top of the food chain, the man we all answer to is Dante Accardi—Mr. Seattle himself.

“Seattle?” I ask, my voice steady, but my mind already running through the possible fallout.

Because after the little matter of the dead federal agent bleeding out on Shelby’s floor, Dante Accardi’s reaction to this is my next concern.

Dante isn’t just the boss. He isn’t just another name in the underworld.

Heisthe underworld.

And if this situation isn’t handled right—if the wrong whispers make their way up the chain—Seattle won’t just send cleanup. He’ll send a goddamn reckoning.

Scar gives me a look, sharp and knowing. He already sees where my mind is going.

“I’ll handle Seattle.”

If that’s supposed to reassure me, it doesn’t. But I say nothing as my eyes swing back to the house, nervous tension radiating off me.

Scar exhales through his nose, casting a glance back at the house, unimpressed. “Messy.”

“Fixable,” I counter.

Kanyan folds his arms, his jaw ticking. “You sure about that?”

I don’t answer. There’s only one option here.

“She shot a cop,” Scar says, voice flat. “Does she even realize the kind of heat that brings? Doyouunderstand the implications for us?”

I grit my teeth. “You know I do. But she doesn’t. She’s not from our world.”

Kanyan shakes his head, exhaling through his nose. “Christ, Mason. This isn’t just a body drop. We’re talking full extraction, full cover-up. Even with her being a civilian, that kind of heat?—”

“I know what it is,” I cut in. “And I know she won’t survive it if we don’t do something.”

They’re quiet for a moment.

Then Kanyan speaks again. “What is she to you?”

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