Chapter 41
Sebastian
I was either hopelessly whipped or terminally stupid—those were the only two reasons I’d be back in Hartwood after dark, searching for a damn book.
Mason’s entire library of horny high fantasy never made it to Portland. And according to her, after tomorrow’s divorce bomb, there was a good chance Sophia wouldn’t let her back into the house without bloodshed.
So, here we were.
I told her I’d replace every last paperback.
Hell, I offered to buy the whole publishing company if it meant she forgot about the book.
But apparently, there was a special edition hardback—French translation, signed by the author, complete with exclusive character art—and no, she couldn’t just buy another copy because it had sentimental value.
Which was how I ended up standing in her basement bedroom—the one in a town I swore I’d never set foot in again.
But… this was fine.
Dale was always in bed by eight p.m. I knew this because he used to lecture me about staying up late. God favors those who rise with the sun, he’d say, as if I had any intention of ever being God’s favorite. Point was, he wasn’t awake right now, and as long as we didn’t dick around, we’d be fine.
Unfortunately, all Mason wanted to do was dick around.
She was supposed to be grabbing one book. One. But ten minutes in, she had three stacks going, ones she promised to “sort through later”, and was now cross-legged in front of the lowest shelf like this was a religious experience.
“Have you actually read all these?” I asked, hoping she’d realize none of this was important.
Mason nodded. “I was going through about a book a day when I was pregnant with Rosie. These are just the ones I’ve read since moving to America.”
I blinked. “There are, like, a hundred books here.”
“One hundred and seventy-two,” she corrected without looking up.
I rubbed my temple as she continued to run her fingers along the spines. Part of me thought this might not be about books at all—but with Mason, it was hard to tell.
“Hey, after I get my book, can we stop and grab something to eat?” she asked casually, still not looking up. “The diner up the street from the gym should be open.”
My eyes narrowed.
Was that a perfectly reasonable request? Absolutely, especially considering she was pregnant with twins. But Mason had just eaten on the way up. Her bump was still round with the evidence of that.
“Princess, you just ate a basket of fries and twenty chicken nuggets with honey.” That alone was impressive for someone her size, but I knew her appetite skyrocketed when she was pregnant with Rosie, so I wasn’t that surprised.
She gave me a look over her shoulder, one brow arched. “And?”
“I’m not judging, I just–” I stopped.
She’d said the diner up the street from the gym. Not the one on Main Street. Not the one with the good coffee.
She was thinking about the gym. The gym where Mattie apparently worked.
“Mason, is this about Mattie?” I asked, pulse quickening like I’d just run a mile.
She froze for a split second, and my stomach dropped. Then she reached deeper into the shelf as if she hadn’t heard me.
“Mason,” I said, my voice low and stern. “Is this about Mattie?”
She sat back on her heels, one hand on her stomach. Guilt flickered across her face.
Oh, my God.
Sweat beaded on the back of my neck as my chest constricted.
“I’m not crazy, okay?” Mason said quickly, as if that was the problem. “She just–before we left, she texted me and told me to stay out of Hartwood, and–”
“You fucking came back to Hartwood?” My panicked yell bounced off the concrete walls.
She flinched and covered her ears.
“Oh my God–you’d be the first person to die in a horror movie!” I grabbed her by the elbow, hauling her to her feet.
“Don’t yell at me!”
“No, I’m going to yell at you–this is dangerous!”
It was dangerous. And stupid. And–Jesus Christ, just thinking about it gave me a migraine.
“It’s not dangerous, it’s Hartwood!” Mason argued. “And something is wrong! She wouldn’t just text me like that!”
“Hartwood is dangerous! There’s a cult that–”
Wants to kill you.
A cult Mason probably didn’t even know still existed. A cult I’d dragged her into.
“A cult that what, Sebastian?” she pressed.
“Nothing,” I lied too fast. “We’re leaving. Now.”
I tried to pull her toward the door, but she jerked out of my grip.
“No! You don’t get to just say a cult. There was a cult–Cameron was part of it, and then they let him go! They’re gone.”
I dragged a hand down my face, pulse hammering so hard it felt like my skull might split.
“Mason, we’ll talk about this in the car. This house isn’t–”
A deep groan cut me off. Loud, low, and wrong, the kind of sound a house should never make.
The overhead lights flickered twice, then went out completely.
Mason gasped.
“Sebastian,” she said finally, her voice trembling.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My eyes were locked on the ceiling, on the faint tremble of drywall above us–the same ceiling that now smelled faintly of smoke.
“Mason.” I forced my voice calm. “I want you to walk toward me. I’m closer to the door.”
“I can’t see you,” she whispered.
“I know. Just keep coming. Slow and steady, okay? We’ll be fine. I promise.”
She nodded, then took a step–one foot, then another. Arms out, feeling through the thickening air. I still didn’t know where it was coming from, but it was rolling in fast.
“Keep coming,” I said, suppressing a cough. “You’re close.”
“It hurts to breathe,” she choked out.
“Then don’t. Take a big breath and hold it,” I said, panicking. “Once we’re outside–”
CRACK.
The sound split the air. I looked up to see glowing orange veins spider across the ceiling.
Oh fuck.
The orange glow deepened, and my knees went weak, but I fought the urge to drop.
“Mason, come on–”
BOOM!
Tangerine light swallowed the room. For a second, I saw everything.
The beam collapsing in a rain of sparks. Ash falling like snow. Mason’s books igniting, page by page, like they’d been waiting for this.
But I couldn’t see her.
And that was worse than the flames.
Because I could hear her.
Not gasping, not shouting. Screaming. A blood-curdling, I’m in pain scream.
“MASON!”
Before I could think twice, I dove toward the wreckage, dropping to my knees as a burst of fire singed the carpet behind me. Heat clawed at my face, smoke filled my lungs–but nothing compared to the raw terror of not being able to reach her.
“I’m here! I’m right here!” I yelled, crawling under the smoldering drywall. “Hang on! I’m coming!”
Her screams dissolved into gasping sobs, and I followed the sound like breadcrumbs through hell.
Then I saw her.
Curled near the desk, half-buried in debris. Eyes wild with pain, hair matted to her face. But all I saw were her hands clutching her belly.
My heart stopped.
Then I saw her ankle pinned beneath the beam. Her foot twisted at an angle no human foot should twist.
“No.”
“Mason,” I breathed, crawling closer. The floor was hot and sticky, the scent of iron thick in the smoke. “Fuck–oh my God.”
“I’m okay,” she lied through gritted teeth, eyes swimming with tears. “I’m okay.”
“You’re not. Your foot–” I reached for the beam, but she pushed at me weakly.
“Don’t! You’ll hurt yourself–”
“I give a single fuck!” My voice cracked as I reached again, desperate. “You’re trapped, Mason. There’s fire, you’re pinned, you’re pregnant–”
“Sebastian,” she sobbed, clutching my shirt. “You need to go. I’m stuck. If you stay, you’re going to die.”
Her voice broke on the last word.
And that’s when I realized–she wasn’t afraid of dying. She was afraid of me dying.
“There’s a–” A fit of coughing cut her off. “A door. Behind the water heater. Go.”
I shook my head. Leaving her? Scared, hurt, alone? Not a chance in hell.
I cupped her face with shaking hands, ignoring the smoke, the soot, the sweat–the blistering heat pressing in from all sides.
“Look at me.”
Her wide, tear-filled eyes found mine.
“I will never fucking leave you,” I swore, my lungs burning. “When I say forever, I mean it. If this house comes down, it comes down on both of us. Got it?”
“Sebastian–” she coughed hard, but I didn’t let her finish.
I kissed her forehead like it was the last thing I’d ever do, because at this rate, it might have been. Then I ripped off my hoodie, wrapped it around her upper leg, and shoved my shoulder beneath the beam.
The wood groaned, my spine screamed, but against all odds, it moved.
Just a few inches. Enough.
“Mason! Move!”
She screamed as she dragged herself free, the sound ripping through me, but my girl did it. She’d fought abuse, a coma, hell itself, and she fought now.
This was not our end.
The second she was clear, I dropped the beam, scooped her up, and ran.
Smoke swallowed the room. Flames clawed at the ceiling. But I didn’t look back.
I found the hatch behind the water heater, kicked it open, and dragged us both through jagged pipes and choking ash until–air.
Cool. Real.
We made it to the grass before my body gave out.
The second I hit the ground, I collapsed. My bad leg screamed, my stomach flipped, and I gagged into the dirt, desperate for oxygen.
Mason was outside. That was all that mattered–until the shadows moved.
My heart pounded like a war drum as I clawed at the dew-damp grass, forcing myself upright. My fingers brushed a rock. Instinct took over. I grabbed it and staggered to my feet.
That’s when I saw her.
Mattie.
She was on her knees not ten feet away, blood streaking her face, her lips split open. Her arms were bound behind her back, swaying as she struggled to stay upright. One fox-like eye pinned on mine, the other was black, blue, and swollen shut.
My lungs seized. The world slowed.
Then, click.
I turned toward the sound and saw Dale.
At first, all I noticed was his face. Then a soft, broken sound drew my attention lower.
Mason.
He had one arm locked around her chest like a harness, the other holding a silver pistol pressed to her temple. Her eyes were wide, tears carving clean lines through the soot. She looked so much like her mother.
Dale’s grin widened as my hand dropped, the rock still clutched tight.
“Drop the rock, Father Castillo,” he said smoothly, his drawl twisting around the words like a snake.
I didn’t move. Couldn’t. Fear of the present, the past, and the future held me still.
“I said, drop the rock.” Dale’s thumb cocked the hammer back. Mason flinched at the sound.
She let out the smallest whimper, and I dropped it. The rock hit the dirt with a dull thud.
“Good boy,” Dale purred. “On your knees. Hands behind your head.”
My head shook, not in defiance, but disbelief. The thought of doing anything other than saving Mason was unthinkable.
Dale pressed the barrel harder against her skull. Mason bit her lip to keep from crying out.
“Get down, or I’ll shoot your bitch,” he warned, voice low but steady. His smile never faltered.
Dale never talked like that. He was always scripture and sermon, and cryptic messages. But when his finger tightened on the trigger, I dropped.
Grass and gravel tore through my sweats as I knelt, fingers laced behind my head, the obedient sheep he always wanted me to be.
My body shook from adrenaline and fear, but my mind was fixed on her. Mason. Was this the last time I’d see her alive? Should I have let the fire take us both?
Then I felt it.
A gloved hand pressed to the back of my neck.
“Sorry, Father Castillo,” a low voice murmured near my ear. “Orders.”
Something sharp pierced my skin. Fire and ice coursed through my veins.
“No!” I tried to twist away, but my limbs betrayed me. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t stand. All I could do was claw at the dirt.
Mason screamed, but it sounded muffled, like she was underwater. Through the haze, I saw Dale lower her gently to the ground, careful not to touch her stomach.
“You’ve been stubborn as they come, Father Castillo,” Dale mused, abandoning her side to crouch in front of me.
Was she dead? Or just unconscious?
He gripped my chin, forcing my eyes to his.
“Congratulations on passing the test,” he said, breath hot and rotten. “Christ has big plans for you.”
My lips parted, half to bite, half to curse him, but nothing came out. My eyes crossed, the world blurring to black.
And the last thing I thought before darkness took me was this–for the past year, I’d made every wrong decision imaginable.
And now Mason and I were about to pay the price for my hubris.