Kanyan (Gatti Enforcers #1)

1 MASON

The metal chair beneath me is cold, but not as cold as the look Mia throws my way from behind the grimy glass partition.

Her arms are crossed, her jaw tight, and the light above flickers, catching the sharp edges of her glare.

Maxine is beside her, quieter. She hovers near the back, arms wrapped around herself, like she’s trying to make herself small. I don’t like it. She’s too thin. Too skittish. Even in a room with locked doors and guards, she’s still looking for an exit.

I want to say something, something that will pull her back, but Mia is already stepping forward, eyes burning into mine.

"Why are you here?" Her voice is a whipcrack, sharp and demanding. No hesitation. No soft reunion.

The warmth I felt at seeing them twists, turns into something heavier. My girls. The only two people in this world who have ever made me feel like more than just a man with blood on his hands.

Mia drops into the chair across from me, but there’s nothing relaxed about it. She’s on edge, waiting, daring me to give her a bullshit answer.

“Hey, kid,” I say, offering a small smile.

She doesn’t return it.

“Don’t kid me.” Her fingers curl into a fist on the table. “What the hell, Mason? Why are you in here?”

I lean forward, resting my forearms on the metal. “You know why.”

Her breath flares through her nose. “I know what they’re saying. But I also know you don’t get arrested for something like that unless someone wants you off the streets.”

Smart girl.

Maxine finally moves, pulling out a chair with slow, deliberate movements. Her fingers tap against the surface, restless. She glances at me, but it’s quick, like she’s afraid of what she’ll see.

I hate that.

She used to look at me like I was someone who could keep her safe. Now, I’m just another man behind a glass partition. Another disappointment.

“I’m handling it,” I tell Mia. The words feel stale the second they leave my mouth.

Her eyes narrow. “Right. Because jail cells are such a great place to make power moves.”

I smirk despite myself. “You get that mouth from me.”

For half a second, her expression softens, like she remembers something good. Something before all of this. But it’s gone in a blink.

“What are you really doing in here, Mason?” she asks, voice lower now. “I know you wouldn’t do anything stupid. That’s not your style. And it’s not befitting of an underboss.”

I let out a slow breath, my gaze settling on hers. “It’s only for a little while, pumpkin.”

The nickname barely touches her. She just shakes her head.

“I tried to bail you out,” she says. “Brando talked me out of it. Said it was being taken care of. That you’d be out in a few days.” A pause. “What are you both not telling me?”

I’m trying to protect you, Mia. That’s what fathers do.

I don’t say it. I don’t have that right.

Maxine shifts. Her fingers clutch the edge of the table, knuckles white. I can see the war inside her, the words she wants to say but won’t. Then, suddenly, she pushes back her chair.

“I need to walk,” she murmurs.

Mia watches her go, but she doesn’t follow. Her eyes turn back to me, searching, waiting.

She wants answers.

She’s not going to get them.

The silence stretches. Then?—

“Tell me.”

I shake my head.

Her jaw clenches. “You can’t be fucking serious.”

The scrape of my chair against the floor is loud in the tense quiet. Maxine stands in the corner, rocking on her heels, biting at a nail.

“Go home to Brando, Mia.”

She freezes.

“I don’t want you coming here again,” I continue, voice even, final. “You don’t belong here.”

She swallows, her throat working around something thick and unspoken.

“I won’t leave you,” she whispers.

“I’m not asking. I’m ordering you.”

Her hands curl into fists, her whole body trembling with fury. “What are you up to, Ironside?”

Smart cookie. She’s on to me.

But the less she knows, the safer she is.

The door to the visitor’s room swings open before she can push further. A man steps in, moving with the quiet confidence of someone who never questions if he belongs in a room.

His suit is sharp, tailored, not a single wrinkle in sight. Light brown hair, parted just enough to make him look like a Boy Scout. But the emerald-green eyes that cut through the room say otherwise.

My stomach knots.

What the fuck?

Maxine stops fidgeting. She looks at the man like she’s seeing a ghost. Her fingers fall away from her mouth, lips parting, but no words come out.

He notices her. Recognizes her.

And then he turns to me.

“Good to see you again, Ironside.”

I exhale sharply, my spine going rigid as I glare at him.

Saxon.

The fucking vagabond.