23. Riley
Riley
Mason’s hand gently shakes my shoulder, pulling me from a deep, dreamless sleep.
The cabin’s still dark, the only light coming from the low, flickering glow of the wood stove and a small lantern on the table that casts long, warm shadows across the wooden walls.
His voice is low and steady, but I can hear the tension underneath it, a roughness that makes my stomach tighten before I’m even fully awake.
“Riley, it’s time. We need to get going.”
I sit up slowly, the heavy quilts falling to my waist. The cool air hits my bare skin and makes me shiver, raising goosebumps along my arms and across my collarbone.
Mason’s already dressed, his flannel shirt buttoned and his boots on, looking every bit the muscle-bound protector I’ve come to rely on.
His face is shadowed in the dim light, but his eyes are soft when they meet mine, filled with a quiet concern that makes my heart ache.
He hands me a mug of hot coffee, the ceramic warm against my palms, steam curling up in fragrant spirals with the rich, bitter scent that helps clear the fog from my head.
I take a careful sip, the heat spreading through me like liquid comfort as I try to wake up fully.
My body’s still sore in the most intimate places from everything we shared yesterday and well into the night.
The memories make my cheeks flush even in the dim light— the way his hands felt on my skin, the low growl of his voice calling me his good girl, the overwhelming pleasure that left me trembling and breathless.
I quickly pull on the clothes he laid out for me— warm layers, a heavy coat, sturdy boots.
We move quickly after that. Mason packs the last of the gear into a duffel bag, his movements efficient and quiet, every zip and buckle sounding final in the quiet cabin.
The generator hums steadily in the background, but the space already feels emptier, like it knows we’re leaving.
I take one last long look around, memorizing everything.
The big bed where he held me so tenderly.
The kitchen counter where we baked cookies and laughed like the world outside didn’t exist. The couch where we played chess and he let me win just to see me smile.
My heart aches sharply at the thought of never seeing this place again, never feeling this kind of safety wrapped around me like a warm blanket.
The drive to the small airfield is quiet.
Mason’s truck rumbles over the snowy roads, the tires crunching through fresh powder as the headlights cut through the darkness like twin beams of hope.
Snow still falls lightly, soft flakes drifting across the windshield, but the worst of the storm has passed.
The heater blows warm air that smells like worn leather and him, a comforting scent that wraps around me, but it can’t chase away the cold fear settling deep in my bones.
My heartbeat stutters into a wild, uncontrollable rhythm.
I keep my hands clasped tightly in my lap, staring out at the dark trees rushing by in a blur of shadow and snow.
Every mile takes me farther from the safety of the cabin.
Farther from the only place I’ve felt truly safe since this nightmare began.
I’m falling for him. Hard. The realization hits me again as I glance sideways at Mason’s strong profile, his jaw set in determination, his hands steady on the wheel.
He’s become so much more than my protector.
He’s the man who makes me feel seen, wanted, and safe in a way no one ever has. And now I might lose him forever.
Mason’s hand finds mine on the seat between us.
His palm is rough and warm, callused from years of hard work, his fingers lacing through mine with a gentle strength that grounds me.
He doesn’t say anything, but the steady pressure of his grip helps calm the frantic beat of my heart.
I squeeze back, holding on like he’s my lifeline in this storm of uncertainty.
When we finally pull up to the small airport, the runway lights glow faintly in the darkness, pale yellow halos cutting through the night.
A man is waiting near a little Cessna, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in dark tactical gear.
Mason parks the truck and helps me out, his arm immediately going around my waist as we walk toward the plane.
The cold night air nips at my face, sharp and biting, snow crunching under our boots with every step.
The man steps forward, offering a hand to Mason first, then to me. His grip is firm but kind, his palm warm against mine. “Kane Beckett. Nice to finally meet you, Riley. Mason’s told me a lot about you.”
Kane’s voice is warm and steady, his smile genuine despite the hard lines of his face. He has kind eyes, a deep brown that seems to carry quiet understanding. “We’re going to get you somewhere safe. The plane is ready. Let’s get you onboard.”
The three of us climb into the small Cessna.
The interior is tight and intimate, the seats leather and slightly worn, carrying the faint scent of fuel and old journeys.
Mason sits beside me, his arm immediately wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me close against his side.
I lean into him. Kane takes the seat across from us, checking instruments and speaking quietly into his radio, his voice a low murmur that blends with the growing roar of the engine.
The engine roars to life, the vibration rumbling through the small plane and up through my seat.
My heart races faster, my palms sweaty against my thighs.
I’m so nervous I can barely breathe, the fear clawing at my throat.
Mason’s arm tightens around me, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on my shoulder.
His presence is solid and reassuring, his body heat chasing away some of the cold terror that’s settled in my bones.
Kane glances back at us as the plane starts to taxi down the runway. “Stevens wants her moved quickly and quietly. We’ll land and hand her off to the agents waiting at the airport.”
Mason’s voice is low and final, cutting through the engine noise like steel. “Absolutely not. I’m staying with her.”
Kane raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. “Understood.”
The plane lifts off into the dark sky, the ground falling away beneath us in a rush of shadow and snow.
Mason holds me tighter, his lips brushing the top of my head in a gentle kiss.
I close my eyes and lean into him completely, letting his strength hold me together as we fly toward whatever comes next.
For now, he’s still here. And that’s enough to keep my heart from shattering completely.