32. Mason
32
MASON
I get one sharp beep from my phone. One signal.
Shelby.
My blood turns to ice, then lava, burning hot and vicious as I stare at the blinking dot on my screen.
She activated the tracker.
She’s alive. She must be alive.
A ragged breath rips through my chest, but the relief is short-lived. Because she wouldn’t have hit that tracker unless she had no other choice. Unless she was out of options. Unless she was in trouble.
My gut twists, rage blinding, unbearable.
I’m in the car before I can think, before logic can catch up and anyone can stop me.
The engine roars to life, tires screeching against asphalt as I tear through the streets, the city a blur of neon and darkness around me.
I barely register the glow of headlights multiplying behind me until I flick a glance at the rearview mirror.
Three cars.
Hot on my heels.
I grit my teeth, fingers tightening around the wheel. Jayson must’ve rallied the crew the second I bolted, knowing I wouldn’t wait, knowing I wouldn’t sit still while Shelby’s signal blared at me like a warning shot to my soul.
He tried to stop me.
Tried to get me to sit down, to breathe, to let him drive.
But I was too far gone.
I didn’t listen.
Didn’t wait.
Didn’t say a single fucking word before I threw myself into the driver’s seat and sped off like a man with nothing to lose.
Because if I don’t get to her in time?—
I will lose… everything.
My pulse is thunder with the realization.
My rage is a living thing, clawing at my insides.
I can’t think about what I might find when I get there.
I won’t.
Because if I do, if I let the thoughts creep in—the idea of her broken, bleeding, cold?—
I’ll burn this whole fucking city to the ground.
The streets are a blur, my knuckles white on the wheel.
The tracker signal pings again, leading me to a stretch of deserted gravel and an underpass.
The tracker won’t stop beeping.
Each pulse is a hammer to my chest, drilling through my ribcage, splintering against my ribs, setting my nerves on fire.
I should be relieved—it means she’s still here.
But as I approach the location, the sight that greets me makes my blood run cold.
A white van, the back door flung open like a gaping mouth, the interior soaked with darkness. Too much fucking red against the stark white.
Blood.
So much fucking blood.
Splattered. Smeared. Painting the van like a horror show.
Bodies lay sprawled near it—limbs twisted, faces slack, eyes empty.
My stomach clenches.
My mind rebels.
Please, God, don’t let that be her.
I kill the engine so fast the car jolts, my door swinging open before the vehicle even settles. My boots hit the ground hard, my body moving on instinct.
My gun is already in my grip, my knuckles bone-white around it.
Behind me, tires screech, engines shutting off, doors flying open. The crew piles out, voices urgent, shouts ringing through the night.
But for one brief moment, before their footsteps hit concrete, before their voices cut through the night, there’s only silence.
Silence.
And the sound of my own ragged breathing.
My pulse is a wild animal, slamming against my ribs, clawing its way up my throat as my eyes scan the area.
Shelby’s nowhere in sight.
But the blood is everywhere.
I don’t think.
I move.
My boots splash through mud and filth as I sprint toward the underpass, the cold air slicing through my skin.
My heart is a war drum, each beat louder, harder, faster as I close the distance.
Please.
Please.
Please.
I round the corner of the van, barely sparing a glance at the two men laying on the ground.
And then, I see her.
And my entire world fucking stops.
She’s lying in the dirt, her body barely visible in the shadows. Blood pools around her, so much fucking blood that I stumble for half a second, my brain refusing to process what I’m seeing.
She’s pale. Too pale.
I drop to my knees, hands shaking as I reach for her, touch her cheek, find her skin ice-cold.
“Shelby.”
She doesn’t move.
I grab her face, force her head to lift just a fraction.
Her lips are cracked, bloodied, her breath so faint I have to strain to feel it.
“Shelby, baby, stay with me.”
I press my hand to a wound on her head, try to stop the bleeding, but there’s so much of it.
“Fuck.” My voice shakes. “Don’t you fucking do this to me. Don’t you dare.”
Her lashes flutter.
Just once.
Hope blooms inside me.
Then she goes still.
No.
I gather her into my arms, my heart slamming against my ribs as I run for the car.
She’s so small like this. So fragile.
I can’t lose her.
I won’t.
Jayson throws open the passenger door, and I cradle her against me as I slide into the back seat. Jayson presses his foot to the gas, taking off without a word.
Every second counts.
Every breath she takes is a battle she’s barely winning.
“Stay with me, Shelby.”
I don’t recognize my own voice.
Broken. Raw.
I don’t pray. I never have. I’ve never felt the need to.
But right now, I do.
Because if she dies…if she dies…
I won’t just kill the men who did this.
I’ll wipe them from existence.
I’ll hunt their families, their friends, anyone who’s ever breathed the same air as them.
I’ll burn their legacy to the ground, salt the fucking earth, and when that’s not enough, I’ll dig up their corpses and kill them all over again until no one remembers their names.
Because when I’m done, they won’t fucking exist.
The waiting room is too fucking bright.
Too clean. Too sterile. Too full of people who don’t understand that my whole world is bleeding out on the other side of that goddamn door.
I can’t sit.
I can’t stay still.
I can’t fucking breathe.
The rage inside me is too big, too suffocating, pressing against my ribs like a loaded gun jammed under my sternum, waiting for the moment I explode.
Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.
She wasn’t supposed to be taken. She wasn’t supposed to be hurt.
She was supposed to be mine.
And now, I might lose her before I even get the chance to claim her.
I don’t realize I’m pacing until someone grabs my arm.
“Mason.”
Kanyan.
His grip is iron, but I tear away from it, jaw tight as I glare at the set of double doors that separate me from her.
“They won’t fucking let me in.” My voice is rough, shredded from the inside out. “She’s in there—alone. And they won’t fucking let me in. ”
I barely hear myself, because the only thing pounding in my head is the sound of her pulse slowing under my hands as I held her in the car.
The blood—so much fucking blood. How could she possibly survive that?
Her skin, ice-cold.
Her lips barely moving when she tried to say something but couldn’t.
I grab the nearest nurse by the arm as she tries to walk past. “Tell them to let me in.”
Her eyes widen in alarm, and Kanyan steps forward, yanking me back.
“Mason, stop .”
I don’t stop.
I don’t listen.
Because fuck that.
I’m a man out of control.
I swing toward the doors, but two security guards step in my way.
Wrong fucking move.
My fist collides with the first one’s jaw, the crack of bone satisfying, but it’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough.
The second guy moves, but I grab his shirt collar and slam him against the wall, rage pouring from me in waves. “Let me the fuck in!”
Doctors and nurses scatter, voices overlapping.
The guards shove back, trying to restrain me, but I throw another punch, another, another, until I don’t know whose blood is on my hands anymore.
There’s a roar in my ears, my vision blurring red, my lungs on fire.
I failed her.
I was too slow.
I let her slip through my fingers, let her get hurt, let this happen. I never should have let her out of my sight.
I should have been there.
I should have?—
“Mason, enough!”
A solid force slams into me, dragging me backward, arms like a fucking vise around my chest.
It’s Brando.
Kanyan jumps in, grabbing my arm, holding me back as my body tries to launch forward again.
I struggle, fighting against them, because I have too much inside me—too much rage, fear, panic, pain?—
“They’re trying to save her, Mason!” Kanyan snarls. “You trying to break every doctor in here isn’t going to help her!”
The words hit me hard. I was trying to save her too—and I failed.
I stop.
My chest heaves.
I see the guards, bruised, shaken. The doctors, staring at me like I’m a wild fucking animal.
I press the heels of my palms against my eyes, sucking in a ragged breath.
The room is too loud. Too bright. Too much.
And she’s still behind those doors.
Fighting for her fucking life.
I shove away from Kanyan and Brando, my hands gripping my hair, my pulse a battering ram against my skull.
I can’t lose her.
I fucking can’t.
Because for the first time in my entire goddamn life, I’ve found something that feels like it could be mine.
And now, I might never get the chance to tell her that.
The automatic doors slide open.
I jerk my head up so fast my vision goes spotty.
But it’s not a doctor.
It’s a blur of fair hair, running toward me, heels clicking against the tile.
Mia.
She skids to a stop in front of me, her chest rising and falling fast, eyes wide as they search mine.
“Are you okay?”
I swallow hard and nod, but my voice still comes out wrecked.
“Shelby is not.”
Her throat bobs, and then she does something I don’t expect.
She reaches for me.
Pulls me into her arms, squeezing tight.
I don’t pull away.
We’ve spent the past week fighting, dancing around one another and the choices we’ve made, but right now—I need this.
I need someone to fucking ground me.
She nods, her expression steeling, that same fire in her eyes that’s always been there. “She’s going to make it.”
I want to believe her.
I need to believe her.
A commotion behind her makes us both turn, and suddenly, another blur is pushing past the nurses, hair wild, eyes blazing.
Maxine.
She barely slows before she barrels into Mia, gripping her arms, looking from her to me.
“What the fuck happened?”
Mia nods toward the doors, her voice softer now. “Mason’s friend is in surgery.”
Maxine sucks in a shaky breath, pressing her hands against her face before dragging them down, rage vibrating off her in waves.
“This life took my fucking sister from me. My twin!” she screeches. “How many more do we have to lose before this war ends?”
Her eyes find mine.
There’s only pain there, because she already knows what this feels like. There’s nothing worse than losing a loved one—especially to such violence.
I’m going to kill them.
All of them.
And if Shelby doesn’t make it?—
I’m going to burn the whole fucking city down.