20. Mason
Mason
The cabin feels smaller tonight, even with the generator humming steadily in the background and the wood stove throwing off steady waves of dry, comforting heat.
The scent of Riley’s fresh baking still lingers thick in the air, warm chocolate and vanilla and buttery dough mixing with the rich, resinous pine smoke from the logs I split earlier this morning.
I sit across from her at the small wooden table, the surface scarred and worn smooth from years of use.
I watch as she pushes her spoon slowly through the bowl of chicken noodle soup I reheated for dinner.
Her movements are slower than usual, almost mechanical, her shoulders slightly hunched like she’s trying to make herself smaller.
Every few seconds her eyes flick nervously toward the boarded-up windows, as if she expects shadows to come crashing through the glass at any moment.
She’s scared. I can see it in the faint tremble of her fingers when she lifts the spoon to her lips, in the way her breathing stays just a little too shallow.
The fear is quiet but real, and it twists something deep inside me into a violent knot.
I want to protect her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.
More than that, I want to destroy every single threat that dares to make her feel even an ounce of this terror.
I wish I could leave right now, track down every last Moretti crime boss, and put a bullet between their eyes before they even know I’m coming.
I wish I could keep her holed up in this cabin forever, safe behind these thick logs, and murder anyone who gets too close to her.
The thought is dark and possessive and completely honest. She belongs here with me.
Not out there in a world full of monsters that want to hurt her.
But I know I can’t do that. I’m a US Marshal, not some vigilante operating outside the law.
And she deserves so much more than a life spent hiding in the woods with a broken man like me.
She deserves sunlight and freedom and a future where she doesn’t have to look over her shoulder every second of every day.
The knowledge sits heavy and cold in my gut, making the warm soup in front of me taste like nothing but ash and regret.
Riley looks up at me across the table, her cornflower-blue eyes soft but shadowed with worry. The firelight from the stove flickers across her face. She tries for that bright, quirky tone she usually has, but it comes out quieter tonight, a little strained.
“This is really good,” she says, forcing a small smile. “You make a mean chicken noodle soup, Marshal Cole.”
I grunt in response and take another bite, the broth warm but completely flavorless on my tongue.
The fire crackles loudly in the stove behind her, sending flickering orange light dancing across the wooden walls and her soft features.
Her hair is still slightly messy from earlier, and there is a faint dusting of flour on the sleeve of my oversized shirt that she’s wearing.
She looks so damn beautiful it physically hurts to look at her.
I want to reach across the table, pull her into my lap, and hold her tight until every trace of fear disappears from those pretty eyes.
Instead I stay where I am, gripping my spoon a little too tightly, the metal digging into my palm.
The satellite phone on the table vibrates suddenly, the low, insistent buzz cutting through the quiet like a warning. I pick it up immediately, recognizing Kane’s number. Riley watches me closely, her spoon pausing halfway to her mouth, eyes wide with fresh tension.
“What’s up?” I answer, keeping my voice even and controlled.
Kane doesn’t waste any time. His tone is clipped and professional, but I can hear the underlying urgency.
“Stevens just made the call. He wants Riley moved to the secure safe house outside Seattle. Better resources, tighter security, full team on site. We need you both on a plane later tonight. Wheels up at 3am. Roads are clearing enough for extraction. I’ll meet you at the airfield to escort. ”
I glance at Riley. She’s gone completely still, her spoon forgotten in her hand, eyes locked on me.
The fear I saw earlier floods back into her face, sharper and more immediate now.
My jaw clenches so hard my teeth ache. I want to tell Kane to tell Stevens to go to hell.
I want to tell him she’s staying right here where I can keep her safe with my own two hands and a loaded rifle.
But I know better. This is the job. This is what keeps her alive.
“Understood,” I say, my voice coming out rough and strained. “We’ll be ready. See you at three.”
Kane pauses for half a second. “You good with that? I know this one’s been… different for you.”
I look at Riley again. She’s biting her lip hard, the spoon trembling slightly in her fingers.
The warm scent of the soup and the lingering chocolate from her cookies suddenly feels too strong, almost suffocating in the cozy cabin air.
I can see the panic starting to build in her again, the way her breathing quickens and her shoulders tense up.
“Yeah,” I lie through my teeth. “I’m good. See you soon.”
I end the call and set the phone down on the table with a soft, final click.
The silence that follows feels heavier than the blizzard ever did.
The fire pops loudly in the stove, sending a shower of bright sparks racing up the chimney.
Outside, the wind has died down to a low, whispering moan, but the snow is still falling steadily, blanketing the world in thick white silence.
Riley sets her spoon down carefully, her fingers trembling. Her voice is small and fragile when she finally speaks. “They want to move me tonight, don’t they?”
I nod once, meeting her eyes across the table. “My boss, Stevens, made the decision. Motel outside Seattle. Plane leaves at 3am. Kane will meet us at the airfield for escort.”
She swallows hard, her fingers twisting together on the table until her knuckles turn white. I can see the panic starting to build in her again, the way her chest rises and falls faster, the way her eyes dart toward the windows like the Morettis could crash through at any moment.
I push my chair back and stand up, crossing to her side of the table in two long strides.
I pull her gently to her feet and wrap my arms around her, holding her close against my chest. She melts into me immediately, her face pressing into my flannel shirt, her small hands fisting tightly in the fabric at my sides.
Her body trembles against mine, soft and so damn vulnerable.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur into her hair. “Everything’s going to be okay, Riley. I’ll be with you the whole way. I’m not letting you go through this alone.”
She nods against my chest, but I can feel the slight, continuous tremble in her body.
The fire crackles warmly behind us, the generator hums steadily in the background, and the soup grows cold and forgotten on the table, but none of it matters right now.
All that matters is the woman in my arms and the fierce, protective need burning deep within me to keep her safe from every threat in the world.
I hold her tighter, one hand stroking slowly up and down her back while the other cradles the back of her head.
The truth sits heavy and painful inside me.
I don’t want to let her go. Not tonight.
Not ever. But I’ll do what is necessary to keep her alive, even if it means watching her disappear into a new life where I can’t follow.
For now, I just hold her close, breathing her in, and let myself pretend that this moment, this cabin, this connection between us could somehow last forever.