Page 60 of Mason

“What?” I ask, my voice coming out lower, sharper.

The fireman exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “We can’t confirm yet, but based on initial signs, it doesn’t look like an accident.”

My jaw locks. Someone set this fire. We weren’t here long enough during the day to use any of the electricals and accidentally leave them running. And Shelby’s biggest threat-David Eddy-is gone. Yet someone wanted to reduce Shelby’s life to flames.

I force myself to remain still, to keep my breathing measured. Shelby is still pressed against me, still shaking. Now isn’t thetime for anger—not when I have an audience. But I file this away, deep in the marrow of my bones, where grudges turn into retribution.

By the timeShelby is calm enough to give her statement to the fireman, there’s nothing left for us to do but leave. The flames have been reduced to smoldering embers, licking at the charred remains of her home, the smoke curling into the sky like a final farewell. It feels wrong to just walk away, but what else is there? Standing here won’t bring back what she’s lost.

She hesitates when I open the car door for her, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She looks back once, her throat working like she’s swallowing down a scream, and then—finally—she climbs into the passenger seat.

I don’t say anything as I pull away from the curb, guiding the car through the busy streets. She’s been stripped of everything in a matter of hours, and I don’t have the kind of words needed to fix that.

Instead, I focus on the road, on the weight of the silence between us. The low hum of the engine is the only sound for miles, and it’s damn near suffocating.

“Do you know anyone who could have done this?” I ask eventually. It feels like we’ve done nothing but drive all day, circling around in a loop of bad luck, but this? This is too much to be coincidence.

Beside me, Shelby lets out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “The only person I can think of is dead.”

And then she freezes.

Her breath catches, her entire body going stiff before she whips her head toward me, her eyes wide, horror-stricken.

“He was dead, wasn’t he?”

I keep my eyes on the road, gripping the wheel a little tighter. “Two bullets will do that to a man, Shelby. He was definitely dead.”

Her lips part like she wants to argue, like she wants to demand more proof, but then she exhales sharply and shakes her head. “Then no. I don’t know who else would want to burn down my house.”

She turns toward the window, resting her head against the seat, but I can feel her gaze shift to me after a few seconds. The weight of it, burning through the side of my face.

“You keep looking at me like that, sweetheart, and I’m going to start thinking you’re planning my murder,” I murmur, flicking my gaze toward her briefly.

She huffs out something that’s almost a laugh. Almost.

“I just—” She pauses, like she’s trying to find the right words. “You don’t have to do all this, Mason.”

“All what?”

“This.” She gestures vaguely between us. “Taking me in, making sure I’m okay. There’s no reason for you to keep getting involved.”

I drum my fingers against the steering wheel, considering my response. I could lie. Could tell her it’s just logistics, just keeping her safe so she doesn’t get tangled up with Saxon North or whoever the hell else has decided to screw with her life. But that’s not the truth, and Shelby? She deserves the truth.

“Maybe I don’t have to,” I admit. “But I want to.”

Her breath catches, her fingers curling against her lap.

I don’t elaborate, because there’s no need to.

The road stretches ahead of us, but for the first time all day, the silence doesn’t feel quite so heavy.

When we pull up to my house, the motion lights kick on, bathing the driveway in a soft glow. I cut the engine, but Shelby doesn’t move right away.

“This is really okay?” she asks, her voice quieter now. “Me staying here?”

“You’ll have the pool house all to yourself,” I assure her. “You need somewhere safe, and I’ve got plenty of room.”

She nods, but she doesn’t make a move to get out.

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