Chapter 14
Ava
Two days after Castellano's death, I wake to the sound of raised voices downstairs. Mason's side of the bed is empty, sheets already cool, which means he's been gone for a while. I check my phone and find it's barely six AM.
Whatever's happening, it's urgent enough to pull him out of bed before dawn.
I dress quickly in jeans and one of Mason's shirts that I've claimed as my own, then head downstairs where I find half the club gathered in the common room.
The tension's so thick I can taste it, brothers standing in tight clusters with weapons visible in a way they usually aren't around the compound.
Mason spots me immediately, his expression shifting from hard to concerned in a heartbeat. He crosses the room, intercepting me before I can get close enough to hear what's being discussed.
"What's going on?" I ask, keeping my voice low.
"We've got a problem. Someone tried to breach the perimeter last night. Zip caught them on the cameras, and when Sterling went to investigate, they'd already disappeared." His jaw's tight, muscles coiled with tension. "They were professionals, they knew how to avoid most of our security."
My stomach drops. "The Collector's people?"
"That's the assumption. FBI's on their way, but Vulture’s calling an emergency lockdown. No one in or out except patched members, and even then only with explicit authorization." He guides me toward the kitchen, away from the crowd. "You're staying inside. No exceptions."
"Mason, I can't just hide every time there's a threat."
"This isn't every time. This is someone actively trying to get to you." His hands frame my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Please, Ava, just for today let us handle security while the FBI investigates."
The fear in his expression, barely concealed beneath the anger, makes me nod. "Okay. Today. But I need to work, need to keep my mind occupied or I'm going to lose it."
"Work from my room. I'll bring you whatever you need." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "And Ava? Don't open the door for anyone except me or Falcon. I don't care if they say it's an emergency."
"You're scaring me."
"Good. You should be scared." His thumb traces my cheekbone. "But I promise you're safe here. I won't let anyone hurt you."
The FBI arrives an hour later, Agent Monroe leading a team that sweeps the perimeter for evidence. I watch from Mason's window as they work, documenting footprints and disturbed vegetation, setting up additional cameras and motion sensors.
Sarah joins me around nine, looking as trapped and anxious as I feel. "This is insane. We're prisoners in an outlaw clubhouse because some mysterious billionaire wants us dead."
"When you put it like that, it sounds like a bad thriller novel."
"Except this is our lives." She settles onto Mason's bed, hugging a pillow. "Ava, how much longer can we live like this? Constantly looking over our shoulders, never feeling safe?"
"I don't know." That’s the honest answer, even if it's not comforting. "The FBI's working the case, trying to identify the Collector. But until then, we just have to be careful."
"Careful is one thing. This is something else entirely." She's quiet for a moment. "Condor asked me to stay. Said I could work remotely for my company from here, that the club would keep me safe."
"And what did you say?"
"I'm thinking about it. Which is crazy, right? Considering staying at an MC compound because I'm too scared to go back to my own apartment." She looks at me. "But then I see you and Mason, see how he is with you, and I wonder if maybe there's something here worth staying for."
"You and Condor?"
"Maybe. I don't know. He's sweet, nerdy, completely different from anyone I've dated." Her smile is small. "And he makes me feel safe in a way I haven't felt since all this started."
"Then stay. At least until the threat's neutralized." I cross to sit beside her. "Besides, someone needs to keep me sane while I'm stuck in lockdown."
We spend the morning working side by side, her handling emails and video calls for her job while I outline my next article.
The Collector story's not done, not by a long shot, and I'm planning a deep dive into how billionaires use shell companies and legitimate businesses to hide criminal operations.
Lunch is delivered to the room by Harrior, who looks apologetic about the security measures but also completely unbending on them. "Vulture’s orders. No one leaves their designated areas until the FBI gives us the all-clear."
"How long will that take?" Sarah asks.
"However long it takes." He glances at me. "Ice Pick's downstairs coordinating with the feds. Said to tell you he'll be up as soon as he can."
After he leaves, Sarah turns to me. "Ice Pick. That's such a weird name. Why do they all have road names?"
"Tradition, I think. Identity protection, maybe. Mason's is because he once used an ice pick to defend Vulture during a bad deal." I close my laptop. "They all have stories like that. Violent origin moments that define who they are in the club."
"And you're okay with that? The violence?"
"I'm okay with Mason. The violence is part of his world, part of who he is." I meet her eyes. "I'm not going to change him, and I don't want to. I just want him."
"You really love him."
"Yeah. I really do."
Mason appears around three, looking exhausted but determined. "FBI's done with the perimeter sweep. They've got evidence of at least two people surveilling the compound, professional equipment, military grade optics. Whoever they are, they're serious."
"Did they find anything that identifies them?" I ask.
"Not yet, but they left in a hurry when Zip spotted them on the cameras. They might've dropped something in their rush." He sits heavily on the bed. "Agent Monroe wants to set up a sting. Use you as bait to draw them out."
"She already suggested that. We said no."
"I know, but she's pushing harder now that we've got confirmation they're actively coming after you." His expression is conflicted. "And part of me wonders if she's right. If this is the only way to end this."
"No." My voice is firm. "I'm not putting myself in danger deliberately. We'll find another way."
"What if there isn't another way?" He scrubs his hands over his face. "What if the only option is to let them come for you in a controlled environment where we can catch them?"
"Then I'd rather live in lockdown than risk getting killed in some FBI operation." I move to kneel in front of him. "Mason, I need you to hear me. I'm not doing this. I'm not playing bait. Find another solution."
He's quiet for a long moment, then nods. "Okay. We'll find another way."
Sarah excuses herself, sensing we need privacy, and once the door closes behind her, Mason pulls me into his lap.
"I'm terrified," he admits quietly. "Terrified that I'm going to make the wrong call and lose you. That I'll let you out of my sight for five minutes and something will happen."
"You can't protect me from everything. No one can."
"Doesn't stop me from trying." His arms tighten around me. "I've already lost one woman I loved to monsters. I can't do it again."
"Elena."
"Yeah." His voice is rough. "She was fifteen, thought she was invincible. Went to a party, someone slipped something in her drink, and by the time we realized she was missing, it was too late. I had three months of hell before they found her body."
"Mason, I'm so sorry."
"It's why I can't, why I won't let anything happen to you." He buries his face in my neck. "You're everything, Ava. Everything."
I hold him while he processes grief that's never fully healed, and when he pulls back, his eyes are suspiciously bright.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to dump that on you."
"Don't apologize. I want to know these things, I want to understand what drives you." I kiss him softly. "Your sister would be proud of what you did. Saving those twenty girls, taking down Castellano. You're honoring her memory."
"Doesn't bring her back."
"No. But it means her death wasn't meaningless. That something good came from that tragedy." I trace the line of his jaw. "And it means you're not the cold, emotionless SAA everyone thinks you are."
"I am that person, when I need to be."
"Maybe. But you're also the man who holds me when I'm scared, who makes sure I eat when I forget, who'd burn the world down to keep me safe." I shift in his lap, feeling him already hardening beneath me. "You're complicated, Mason Vaughan. And I love every complicated piece of you."
His mouth crashes into mine, desperate and hungry, and I respond with equal intensity. We strip each other frantically, needing the connection, needing to forget about threats and danger and everything except this.
He's inside me within minutes, both of us too desperate for slow. The rhythm's hard and fast, chasing pleasure like it'll save us, and when I come apart around him, he follows immediately with my name torn from his throat.
We collapse together in a sweaty tangle, hearts racing in tandem.
"I love you," he says when he can breathe again. "Even when you're stubborn and reckless and refuse to follow perfectly reasonable security protocols."
"I love you too. Even when you're overprotective and bossy and act like I'm made of glass."
"You are made of glass. Incredibly strong, beautiful glass that I'm terrified of breaking."
"Then stop handling me like I might shatter, I'm tougher than you think."
"I know you are. It doesn't make it easier to watch you take risks."
We lie there in comfortable silence until his phone rings. Vulture’s name is on the screen.
"Yeah?" Mason answers, still holding me close.
Whatever Vulture says makes his body tense. "When? Where? Okay, we're coming down."
He hangs up and looks at me with an expression I can't read. "FBI traced the surveillance equipment. It's registered to a security company owned by one of the shell corporations we identified."
"Which means we've got a direct connection to the Collector."