26. Mason
26
MASON
P eace has never been something I’m good at finding. Even when it’s right in front of me, it slips through my fingers like smoke—never quite mine to hold.
That’s what happens when the buzzer goes off.
Not just a press—a goddamn assault. Pounding, insistent, like someone decided the ringer was an extension of their damn hand.
I push off the couch, already halfway to the security panel, ready to tear into whatever asshole thinks it’s a good idea to harass me this late at night. But the second I check the camera feed, my irritation shifts into something else entirely.
Mia.
And she looks pissed.
I scrub a hand down my face, exhaling hard. Of course.
Mia’s got a fire in her that doesn’t burn out easily. Normally, she’s got it reined in—sharp, quick-witted, easy to be around. But when she’s like this? When her demons claw their way out?
It’s best to brace for impact.
The second I pull the door open, Mia is standing there—arms crossed, her ice-blue eyes blazing up at me with a fury I know all too well. It’s the kind of anger that isn’t surface-level—it’s deep, threaded with something raw and untamed.
She looks like me when I was younger. The younger, angrier version of myself. When I didn’t know where to put all the fire burning inside me.
"You have some goddamn nerve, Mason Ironside.”
I lean against the frame, unfazed by the storm brewing in her. "Nice to see you too, kid."
Her nostrils flare. "Don’t ‘kid’ me.” She pushes past me and walks into the house without an invitation. “You were released five days ago! And did you think to come see me? No. I had to find out from someone else that you were even out! Do you know how humiliating that is?"
Her words slice through the air like a blade, but I take the hit. She’s right—I should’ve gone to her first. Should’ve made sure she knew from me, not from some secondhand source. That had been the intention all along, but then… then I met Shelby, and I got caught up in the nightmare that is David Eddy.
But she’s also wrong if she thinks I don’t care.
“I had every intention of coming to see you.”
“ Don’t .” She points a finger at me, her voice shaking with frustration. “Don’t act like you give a damn, Mason. Why do I feel like I’m the only adult in this relationship? First, you get yourself thrown in jail. Then you get released and don’t bother to let me know. How…”
I exhale through my nose. “Mia?—”
“Don’t ‘Mia’ me,” she snaps, stepping forward, practically daring me to argue. “You owe me, Mason. If you’re going to be in my life, at least have the balls to man up and give a shit.”
My eyes flick past Mia, drawn to a shadow shifting in the doorway. A movement—hesitant, almost uncertain.
The second I see her, the air in my lungs turns sharp.
Shelby.
She’s standing there, frozen mid-step like she’s just stumbled into the middle of a battlefield—landmines beneath her feet, calculating the safest way to retreat. Her eyes are wide, startled, like she hadn’t expected to see anyone here. Like she’s already trying to figure out how to disappear before either of us can react.
Mia notices the shift in my focus immediately. She follows my gaze, her head tilting slightly as she assesses Shelby.
That sharp, calculating look settles into her expression—the kind that’s always been a little too damn observant for my liking.
Mia has a habit of seeing too much. Of digging into things that aren't her business until she finds answers no one wants to give. And right now, I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head—reading between the lines of Shelby’s hesitation, my tension, the silent war waging between us.
She angles her body slightly, half-blocking the exit, like she’s considering playing gatekeeper. Like she might stop Shelby if she tries to bolt.
And knowing Mia? She just might.
“Who the hell is this?” she asks, her tone sharp with suspicion. Maybe even a little jealousy.
Shelby steps forward slightly, but she’s not stupid—she knows this isn’t her battle. “I’m Shelby.” She offers a small smile, but there’s tension in her posture.
Mia eyes her, her expression unreadable. “Right. And you’re why he hasn’t been to see me?”
She turns to face me, incredulous.
Shelby hesitates, then shakes her head, confused.
I sigh, raking a hand through my hair. “Mia, don’t do this. This isn’t about Shelby.”
“Maybe not,” she says, her voice tight. “But it’s about you. And the fact that you keep running from things instead of facing them head on.”
Her words dig under my skin—sharper than I expect.
“Mia, listen?—”
“No,” she cuts me off, taking a step back, her shoulders slumping in defeat. Her throat bobs, her eyes flicking up to mine, and for the first time in my life, I see it.
The thing she won’t say.
She knows.
Somehow, she knows.
She knows that I’m her father. And she’s been waiting for me to put her first. She’s been waiting for me to say it.
I feel it with everything in me.
But I don’t say it. I can’t bring myself to say the words she wants to hear.
And that’s what breaks her.
“Forget it,” she mutters, turning away. “I don’t even know why I came here.”
I reach for her, but she jerks away, shaking her head.
“When you decide to actually be a man about this, let me know,” she says over her shoulder. “But until then? Stay out of my life.”
And then she’s gone.
The second the door closes, Shelby lets out a breath, leaning against the wall. “Well. That was… intense.”
I say nothing, staring at the spot where Mia stood.
“You should go after her,” Shelby says gently.
I shake my head. “Not now. Not when she’s like this.”
Shelby crosses her arms. “That’s your daughter,” she says—more a statement than a question. Was it that obvious?
“I don’t know why she’s so angry.”
“She’s been waiting for you to tell her, Mason. Why haven’t you told her?”
I clench my jaw. “Well, she definitely knows now.”
“That’s not the point. Look, it’s none of my business. But she obviously just wants to hear it from you.”
“I don’t know why this has come up now. Why she’s so emotional about it all of a sudden.”
“You need to talk to her, Mason. She obviously needs her closure.”
I don’t answer.
Shelby steps forward, her voice softer now. “Mason, she’s hurt. She wants to hear it from you. You’re the one person who can make this right.”
I let out a slow breath, running a hand down my face.
Shelby watches me for a long moment before shaking her head.
“You’re not scared of much, are you?” I glance at her, waiting. “But you’re scared of this,” she finishes, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re scared you’ll fail her as a father. But you won’t know, mason, until you try.”
How the hell do you tell your only child that you’re not her uncle, but her father?
It’s a question I’ve toyed with for years, rolling it around in my head like a bullet in the chamber, knowing eventually I’d have to pull the trigger. But every time I got close, every time I so much as thought about sitting Mia down and laying the truth bare, something stopped me.
Not fear—I don’t get scared. Not in the way most men do.
But this? This is different.
It’s not about taking a hit or pulling a trigger. It’s not about knowing I can outthink, outfight, or outlast the next guy. Those things are easy—instinctive. This? This is something I can’t control. The way her face will change when the words leave my mouth. The way the truth will settle over her, heavy and inescapable, confirming what she’s probably always suspected.
Mia and I have always had something different. A connection that went beyond blood, beyond family obligation. From the moment she was born, she was mine to protect, and somehow, she knew it too. She gravitated toward me in a way the twins never did. Not because I played favorites—I never did—but because it was just how we were.
She was the center of my universe. Still is.
I was the one who taught her how to shoot, steadying her small hands around a gun, telling her to breathe, to take her time, to never let her emotions dictate her aim. I took her horseback riding, showed her how to trust the animal beneath her, how to guide it with more than just reins, but with confidence and control. And when she wanted to learn how to drive, it was me in the passenger seat, gripping the dashboard while she took corners too fast, laughing like the reckless little thing she was.
I was there for all of it. And now, I’m about to be the one to take something from her too—the illusion that things were ever simple, ever safe.
This isn’t a lesson she’ll want to learn. But it’s one she has to.
I can’t shake the thought—what if she doesn’t accept me?
What if she looks at me, really looks at me, and sees nothing but the lie?
Because it is a lie, isn’t it? Years of pretending, of standing on the sidelines, of letting her believe I was just her uncle, just someone in her life—not the man who should have been there all along, raising her, protecting her, being her father.
And the worst part? The questions she’ll ask about her mother.
The questions I don’t have the right answers to.
Because how do I tell her that the love between us was never meant to be? That her mother belonged to someone else on paper, but that I loved her in ways that defied everything? How do I make her understand that I stepped back for the sake of something bigger, for the sake of her?
I don’t.
So I say nothing. I keep the truth locked up tight, day in and day out, letting it weigh on me like a slow-building pressure, like something waiting to crack.
And a man like me—someone who’s spent his life making decisions that other people would lose sleep over—should be able to handle that.
But this?
This is the one thing I can’t seem to face.
Something I should have handled the second I walked out of that goddamn prison.
Mia.
I can’t let this go on any longer. Not after the way she stormed off, the look in her eyes slicing through me sharper than any blade ever could. She’s pissed. She’s hurt. And I get it—I deserve every ounce of her anger.
But it’s time.
I leave Shelby waiting at the house, promising I won’t be long, then slide into my car and take the fastest route to the Gatti Estate—an empire of wealth and power, home to the brothers who built a fortress and locked their family inside of it. Four houses on one massive plot of land, each one far enough apart to give them space, but close enough to remind them that they’re never alone. Because there’s no comfort like the comfort of brothers.
Mia is tucked away in one of them, in the home she shares with her husband, Brando. And Brando? He’s the only one who knows the truth.
I hit the gate control, roll through as it slides open, and let my car roar to a stop in front of the house. The engine barely has time to settle before the front door opens and Brando steps out and closes the door behind him. Shutting me out. No matter how much he respects me, no matter our history, he will not let anything touch Mia.
He doesn’t look surprised to see me. But that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.
His eyes flick over me, assessing. He smooths a finger across one of his eyebrows, a nervous tell that would go unnoticed by most. But I know Brando.
He’s anxious about me being here.
“Where is she?” I ask, my voice edged with impatience.
Brando doesn’t answer immediately. His expression stays unreadable, but there’s a weight to his silence. A warning.
“She doesn’t want to see you, Mason,” he says finally.
My hands drop to my sides, fingers flexing. I refuse to assume defeat. That’s not who I am. That’s not what I do.
“Did you tell her?” I ask, because he’s the only one who could have.
Brando’s gaze sharpens. He doesn’t flinch or waver. He knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“No,” he says simply.
I study him, searching for a crack, but there’s nothing. He’s telling the truth.
And then he quirks an eyebrow. “Ironically, I think she’s always known.”
A flicker of something moves through me—hope, fear, something in between.
“How?”
Brando exhales, shaking his head. “She’s always felt it,” he says. “She just... knows.”
The words settle in my chest like a slow, aching burn. Mia’s always been sharp, perceptive. But this? This is something else.
“Tell her I want to see her, Brando,” I say, my voice harder now. “This is me stepping up.”
He doesn’t answer right away. Just studies me with that unreadable expression, like he’s debating whether or not I deserve this.
“I know you have your reasons for keeping her in the dark,” he finally says. “Some of them might even be valid. But I think you need to give her some time, Mason.”
I shake my head. “This is what she wanted.”
Brando’s lips press into a thin line. “Mia doesn’t know what she wants, Mason. Not right now. Give her some time. She’ll come around.”
I grind my teeth, frustration biting at the edges of my control. Time? Time is what got us into this mess. Every day, every year I let this truth sit in the dark only made it harder to drag it back into the light.
But Brando isn’t wrong.
Still, that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
I exhale slowly, forcing myself to step back.
“Tell her I came by.”
Brando nods once. “I will.”
I don’t linger. I don’t push. Because some fights are won by waiting.
And when Mia’s ready?
She knows where to find me.