Page 88 of Unmask
I didn’t give a shit about the network. I cared about my friend. “And if it doesn’t pan out?”
“Then they come home empty-handed, and we start over tomorrow. But Kreed…” He paused, running a hand through his dark hair. “He’s not the type to let things go. He won’t stop until he finds answers even if it kills him for your sake. Kreed doesn’t give loyalty easily, but when he does, it’s unbreakable.”
The words hung between us, a bridge I wasn’t sure I wanted to cross. “You think he’s in danger tonight?”
“I think Kreed is always in danger.” Mason’s smile returned, but it was different now, guarded. “But he’s got Raine and Maddox watching his back. They’ll be fine.”
“How did you get stuck here with me?”
“Someone had to make sure you didn’t run off and get yourself kidnapped or killed.”
My stomach suddenly growled so loudly and demandingly that even Mason raised a brow. “When was the last time you ate?” he inquired.
I pressed a hand to my abdomen, trying to remember when I’d last put food in my body that wasn’t coffee or whatever passed for cafeteria sustenance at school. “Who knows.” I shrugged. “I’m getting a snack. Do you want anything?” I offered as I pushed myself off the couch, needing the movement, the distraction of routine tasks.
“Anything but that hummus shit you’re always eating,” he called after me.
I rolled my eyes but didn’t answer as I went to the kitchen. Only the faint night-light under the cabinet cast a warm amber glow, creating a small island of safety in the sea of black. I opened the fridge, the sudden burst of white light making me squint as cold air rushed out to embrace my skin. The shelves were better stocked than they had any right to be, Brock’s doing, his quiet way of taking care of me when he wasn’t here. I rummaged around halfheartedly, pushing aside containers of leftover takeout and bottles of water, not really seeing any of it.
That’s when I heard it.
A faint buzzing, barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator.
I frowned, my hand freezing halfway to a container of strawberries. The sound came again, muted but persistent, like an insect trapped behind glass. I straightened slowly, letting the fridge door swing shut and plunge me back into amber twilight, my ears straining to locate the source.
I reached for my phone on the granite counter, fingers fumbling in the dim light, but the screen remained dark and silent. No new notifications. No missed calls. Nothing.
The buzzing hadn’t come from my phone, so where? Had one of the guys left their device here? Was it Mason’s? But he was still in the living room.
I turned slowly, every nerve ending suddenly alive and crackling with unease. The sound was definitely coming from behind me, somewhere near the kitchen table. My eyes landed on the chair where I’d carelessly dumped my bag earlier after stumbling through the front door, exhausted after seeing Rusty and Carter.
A chill ran down my spine, ice-cold fingers tracing each vertebra.
My feet felt heavy as concrete as I crossed the room. I unzipped the front pocket of my bag with trembling fingers, themetal teeth parting with a soft whisper. Digging inside, my hand brushed past the usual debris of student life, crumpled receipts, lip balm, and loose change until my fingers found something that didn’t belong.
Something hard. Small. And definitely not mine.
A burner phone.
I pulled it out like it might bite me, the cheap plastic warm against my palm. I’d never seen it before. The screen glowed to life at my touch, no passcode, no security, nothing standing between me and whatever message had been burning a hole through my bag. A single text was displayed across the cracked screen, the words stark and brutal in their simplicity:
Tomorrow. Midnight. The old train yard off Route 19. Come alone. No Crew. No Corvo. No Cops. Or Kenny dies.
My breath caught in my throat. I reread the message, the words blurring slightly as my hands began to shake, hoping the letters would rearrange themselves into words less terrifying. My world tilted sideways, reality shifting beneath my feet.
The phone grew heavier in my hands, the message echoing in my skull like a warning siren that wouldn’t stop screaming.How the fuck did this phone get in my bag? When could someone have put it there? How long has it been in there?
I tried to retrace my steps, but panic was creeping up my throat, making it hard to think clearly. I’d gone to school, sat through classes, eaten lunch, and pretended to care about assignments. The shop and then to Carson’s after. That was it. I hadn’t left my bag unattended except…
Except in the town car when Evan came to pick us up at the shop.
My mind began to spin as I thought back. I’d left it in the back seat while we went inside Carson’s, trusting in the illusion of safety that Evan’s presence provided.
That meant whoever was behind this had been close. Close enough to breathe the same air I breathed. Close enough to slip a phone into my bag without me noticing, to violate my space. Close enough to track me, watch me, maybe even follow me home to this sanctuary I’d foolishly believed was safe.
Could it have been Evan?
There was no way. Kreed trusted him explicitly, but did I? Evan had been employed by the Corvos for more than a decade, but he worked for Kreed’s dad,notKreed. Perhaps it was Donovan who ordered Evan to slip the burner into my bag. Nothing else made sense. I couldn’t see how anyone could get past Evan unless he’d been distracted by something or someone. I made a mental note to ask Evan if anything unusual had happened while we’d been inside Carter’s.
