Chapter 33
LILY
Idon't step back or give him the satisfaction of retreat. I’m not built that way. Instead I block the doorway, even though it feels like cutting off my nose to spite my face. “Do you realize what time it is? It’s late.”
“That didn’t bother you when you were pinned down on Turner's property half an hour ago.” His voice is low and controlled, but there's something lethal underneath.
I knew it. Only instead of being wary, my body perks up to attention. “How did you know I was there?”
“I followed you.”
“From where?”
“From here.”
I shake my head. “Why were you here?”
“To make sure you were safe.” He narrows his gave. “Now let me in.”
There are so many reasons not to let him in, but I step aside because, oddly, I believe him.
Mason ducks through the doorway, filling the small space instantly. He smells like cold night air, gunpowder, and something dark enough to make my heart stumble.
The second the door shuts behind him, his attention falls on me fully. “What the fuck were you doing out there?”
I can see by the way his hands are flexing he’s missing his usual control.
What’s weird is I’m not freaked out by that.
In fact, I’m kind of turned on. It’s got to be because of my past trauma, right?
A normal woman would probably be calling the cops right about now.
I cross my arms, hopefully hiding the way my nipples are standing at attention. “None of your business.”
“The hell it isn’t.” His voice stays low, but there’s violence threaded underneath. “You were on Turner’s property alone. No exit strategy worth a damn.”
Wincing, I have to admit he’s right. “You don’t know what my plan was.”
“I know you almost got caught.” He steps closer. “I also know you move like someone with training, keep your head on a swivel, and have military-grade motion sensors installed around your house. So try again.”
I hate how observant he is. I also hate that he’s so aware of me that he was careful not to move so close that it’d intimidate me. “I had it under control.”
“You had nothing under control.” He takes another cautious step toward me. “Kelly was thirty seconds from finding you. You were trapped on that ridge. If you’re going into a situation like that, you need to have backup.”
He’s close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him, and—damn it—for a second it scrambles my brains. I push my thumbnail into the tip of my finger, trying to focus. “I don't need backup.”
“No, you need a goddamn miracle.” His eyes drop deliberately to my wrist, where the barcode is. “You think you can walk back into Turner's operation and come out alive? You think someone won't recognize you?”
“I'm not walking back in,” I declare in a whispered hiss. “I'm hunting them down. Kelly first. Then Turner.”
Mason goes completely still. The kind of stillness that precedes violence. Finally he says, “You're planning to kill them.”
“Yes.”
He shakes his head. “You're not a killer, Lily.”
“You don’t know what I am.”
“I know exactly what you are.” He leans in just enough that I can smell his soapy forest scent beneath the gunpowder.
“You’re a survivor. You’re a healer. You’re tactical, smart, dangerous, because you’ve been running on rage for fuck knows how long without a way to channel it. But you’re not a killer.”
My hands curl into fists to keep from reaching out to touch him. “And you are?”
“Yes.”
I inhale sharply, not expecting that level of honesty.
Mason doesn’t blink. He doesn’t soften. His eyes are dark and uncompromising and utterly lethal. “I’ve killed more men than you’ve ever met, and I know what it costs. I know what it takes. And you don’t want to go there.”
“You don't know anything about me.”
“I know you froze when Kelly got close. I know you panicked when I moved toward you at the bar. I know your body still remembers what they did to you.” His gaze drops to my wrist again, then back to my face. “You want them dead? Fine. But you're not the one who's going to pull the trigger.”
My breath catches. My entire body is vibrating with fury and something else—something hot and unfamiliar that I refuse to name. “I don't need you to fight my battles.”
“This isn't about need.” Mason's voice drops lower, rougher. “This is about capability. You're an operator. You're good at surveillance, at intelligence gathering, at staying invisible. But when it comes to the kill shot?” He shakes his head slowly. “That's not you. That's me.”
I don’t need to be a killer. I just need to kill one person. “I can—”
“You can't.” He cuts me off with brutal efficiency. “And if you try, you'll get yourself killed. Or worse—you'll hesitate at the wrong moment and they'll take you again.”
That hits like a gut punch. Just the thought of it makes my stomach roil with terror.