33. Mason
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Mason
I’ve never been good at waiting. Patience was Ethan’s thing, not mine.
Me? I needed to move, to do something, to fix things with my own two hands.
But right now, all I could do was stand here in the sheriff’s office, feeling like a damn caged animal, while Davis and Hall sat behind their desks, looking like they had the weight of the world on their shoulders.
“We got him,” Davis said.
Two simple words, but they hit me like a punch to the gut.
“Hank?” I asked, my voice low, tight.
Hall nodded and turned the laptop around. “Yeah. We finally got the footage we needed.”
I stepped forward, my hands braced on the desk, my pulse hammering.
The screen flickered with grainy black and white footage from some security camera. A hooded figure moved through the frame, methodical, deliberate.
Even in the shitty resolution, I could see the destruction—windows smashed, spray paint dripping from the walls, chaos left in his wake.
Then it happened.
A flicker of light. A gust of wind.
And for a fraction of a second, the hood slipped back.
Hank Lawson’s face stared right into the camera.
A slow, burning heat spread through my chest, my fingers curling into fists.
“That's all we need for a warrant,” Davis said. “Judge is signing off on it now. By tonight, Hank’s gonna be in cuffs.”
I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through my hair.
This should’ve felt like relief. Hell, it should’ve felt like a win.
But instead, all I could think about was Aurora. Everything she’d fought for, everything she still had to lose.
“Hank’s not gonna go down easy,” I muttered. “He's a cockroach. You crush him, he finds a way to crawl out.”
Hall leaned back in his chair. “We’re not taking chances. We wanted you to know first.”
That meant something.
Not just because they were my friends, but because they knew how much this mattered to me, to Ethan and Owen, to Aurora. To all of us.
I nodded. “Appreciate it.”
Davis stood, his expression serious. “Be careful, Mason. Hank’s cornered. And a cornered man is a dangerous one.”
I met his gaze, my jaw tightening. “Yeah,” I said. “So am I.”
Then I turned and walked out, my mind already racing. For the first time in a long damn while, I saw a way out.
Justice was coming. And I was gonna make damn sure of it.
By the time I made it to Lucky’s, I was seeing red.
The place was packed. Friday night crowd, locals nursing beers, a few tourists passing through.
The usual hum of conversation filled the air, but the second I stepped inside, people turned.
Maybe it was the way I was walking, all clenched fists and raw fury, or maybe they could just feel something was about to go down.
And Hank Lawson?
He was right where I expected him to be, sitting at the corner table like he owned the place.
A couple of his usual cronies surrounded him, but they weren’t laughing and drinking like normal.
They were tense. They knew.
Hank lifted his whiskey glass, giving me that smug, condescending smirk he always wore when he thought he was untouchable.
“Something on your mind, Grady?”
The whole bar went quiet. Even the bartender stopped pouring.
I didn’t stop until I was standing right in front of him, my shadow falling over his table.
“You vandalized my shop.” My voice was steady, but barely. “You trashed Aurora’s bookstore.”
Hank set his glass down with a clink. “You got proof of that?”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Yeah, Hank. We do.”
Davis and Hall had told me to let them handle it, to let the warrant do the talking, but I wasn’t built like that.
This wasn’t just about justice. It was about standing up in front of the people Hank had bullied, bought off, and manipulated for years—and telling him, to his face, that his time was up.
I turned, glancing around the bar.
“Some of you still think Hank’s got this town in his pocket,” I said, my voice carrying through the room. “But I’ve got news for you. His money doesn’t mean a damn thing when he's sitting in a jail cell.”
Hank’s smirk faltered just slightly.
“We’ve got footage,” I continued. “Clear as day. Hank, under his little disguise, tearing through this town like a coward. You wanted to ruin us? You wanted to push us out?” I took a step closer, lowering my voice. “You lost.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. People shifted, eyes darting to one another, to Hank, to me.
The hold he had on this town had been slipping for a while now, but this?
This was the final nail in the coffin.
Hank scoffed, forcing a laugh. “You're full of shit, Grady.”
But his voice lacked its usual confidence.
He glanced toward the door like he was already planning his exit.
I shook my head. “You can lie all you want. Won’t change the fact that the sheriff’s got a warrant with your name on it. Won’t change the fact that everyone in this town is finally seeing you for what you are—a desperate, washed-up billionaire who thought he could buy his way into power.”
A voice rang out from the back of the bar. “Damn right!”
That was enough.
The crowd shifted, people nodding, muttering in agreement.
“You think you own us, Hank?” I gestured around the room. “Look around. This town doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to the people in it.”
My gaze swept over the familiar faces—shop owners, farmers, mechanics, parents, kids who’d grown up here just like me.
“And we’re done letting you run it into the ground,” I finished.
A murmur of agreement turned into a chorus. People started standing, stepping forward.
Hank’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t over,” he snarled, standing up so fast his chair scraped against the floor.
I tilted my head. “Yeah, it is.”
A beat passed.
Then the doors swung open, and in walked Davis and Hall, badges flashing, eyes locked on Hank.
Perfect timing, and they didn’t even know it.
The bar went dead silent.
Hank turned to run, but I stepped into his path.
“Where you going?” I asked, smiling just a little.
Davis reached for his cuffs. “Hank Lawson, you're under arrest.”
Hank’s gaze darted toward the door, toward Davis and Hall advancing with slow, measured steps.
The crowd tensed. The whole damn bar felt like it was holding its breath.
“You can’t do this,” Hank barked, his voice sharp, cracking at the edges. “I own half this town!”
I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Not anymore.”
Davis didn’t hesitate, stepping right up to him. “Hank Lawson, you're under arrest for vandalism, destruction of property, and harassment.”
He rattled off a list of other charges, but Hank barely heard him. His face had gone red, veins bulging at his temples.
“This is bullshit!” Hank twisted, trying to shove past me, but I stepped in his way.
He grabbed the front of my shirt.
“You think you’ve won?” Spit flew as he snarled, eyes wild. “You think some little video changes anything? I make the rules in this town.”
I leaned in, close enough that only he could hear.
“Not anymore.” Then, louder, “You're done, Hank.”
And just like that, Davis grabbed his arm, yanking him back, twisting him around.
The metallic click of the handcuffs snapping into place was the sweetest damn sound I’d ever heard.
Hank let out a guttural growl, thrashing, but Hall was already there, pushing him toward the door.
I reached into my pocket, pulling out my phone, and tapped the screen.
The call rang twice before Ethan picked up. “Mason? What's…”
I flipped the camera around. “Say goodbye to Hank.”
Ethan and Owen’s faces filled the screen, eyes narrowing as they took in the scene.
The bar. The crowd. Hank, being shoved through the door, wrists bound, shouting like a rabid dog backed into a corner.
Owen let out a low whistle. “Well, damn.”
Ethan smirked, slow and satisfied. “About time.”
I turned the camera back to myself, my grip tightening around the phone.
“It’s over,” I said, my voice rough with something I hadn't let myself feel in a long time.
Relief.
Final, undeniable relief.
Ethan exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Aurora?”
“She doesn’t know yet,” I admitted. “But I can’t wait to tell her.”
Owen grinned. “Oh hell ya, she's going to love it.”
The call ended, but I barely noticed. The crowd at Lucky’s had started to ease, the energy shifting from tense to something lighter.
People were talking, shaking hands, even clapping me on the shoulder as I walked through.
Hank’s grip on this town was broken, and the future didn’t feel like a fight.
It felt like ours.