CHAPTER NINE
MASON
Ishouldn’t even be six inches near Saint.
But here I am, stalking him.
What Vincent wants. Vincent gets.
He wants me to report back with information on how Saint’s handling the attack on his warehouse. An attack Neo had executed under his command.
The air drifts with rust and wet earth. Freight containers rise in crooked rows in the quiet dockyard. I press my shoulder against the steel surface, the cold leeching into my black leather jacket.
I’m in enemy territory.
I have been since the moment he kidnapped me. Since he tried to sell me off at the auction house in Queenstown. Since he threatened my life.
Work for him or die. Those are the rules.
A container away from me, a raw and jagged scream rips from a man’s throat, loud enough to send an uneasy feeling through me.
If I’m found, will I face the same fate?
My heart thunders beneath my chest as every nerve in my body screams to run, yet I plant my feet on the sodden earth beneath me.
Through the quiet night, Saint’s voice rumbles through the walls, and the explosion of gunshots rips through the cavernous space, bouncing off corrugated walls as shock jerks through me.
A sour taste crawls up my constricted throat, and I hear his voice echo through the charged air.
“You answer a question when I speak to you. Do you understand?”
This is another fraction of the man I had met at the suite.
A monster. But I already knew that. He’s been raised to run a mafia syndicate. Softness isn’t something his family would tolerate.
I saw it in his eyes that night.
Saint keeps questioning his captives, but my mind trails off to Vincent. I have to stay until I know what the prisoners said in exchange for their lives.
I shut my eyes. Shrieks haunt the air, then another gunshot cracks like deafening thunder.
He’s exactly like Vincent.
He takes. Threatens. Kills.
Beneath the shallow feeling of disgust I feel, something else slithers through the cracks of anger.
My fingers slowly curl into my palms, nails biting into my skin.
I imagine a different face trapped in that room.
A different voice begging. I imagine looming over the man who had put me through the worst days of my life, seizing the power for myself and wielding it how I please.
The blood. Pain. Torture.
A part of me wanted to leave. The other part of me entertained the fantasy of having David chained so I can watch him suffer.
I hate myself for it. For thinking this way.
All my life, I have hidden every emotion he made me feel; kept the rage on a leash. I’d never be like him. No matter what. I’d never fall on my knees and beg for forgiveness. Then go back to the same things I did that hurt the people around me.
Another scream splits the air, and I squeeze my eyes, breath hitching before I open them again. But it doesn’t end there.
“I’ll talk. I’ll talk.”
“Good, Oliver. Tell me the truth.”
“They came to the docks two days ago. I have never seen them in my life.”
“What did they want?”
“They just wanted us off duty, so they’d tamper with the shipment. They paid us for it.”
“Names?”
“I didn’t get any names… But we were going to meet up at the poker room at the Red Horn Club next week for the rest of the payment.”
“Good enough. Isn’t it your lucky day?”
I already have my answers for Vincent. Saint doesn’t have the names of those who crossed him, but it doesn’t look like he’ll stop until he gets what he wants.
I push off the container and slip through the narrow gap between two stacked crates, pulling the dark hoodie over my head.
Pushing my hands into my pockets, I follow the paved path that leads out of the shipping docks.
“Hey.” A deep voice barks and I whip my head around.
My gaze lands on the security man walking toward me.
Run or stay?
Running means, I’m guilty of something. So I face the man in black suit and put my hands up. “What are you doing here?”
“I was…”
He cuts me off and pulls his gun. “Bullshit.” His eyes rake through me. “Move.” He cocks his head toward the direction I came from.
My shoulders fall. My stomach knots with tension as I stride down the path. He’s right behind me, arms steady, gun pointed at me.
David had held several dangerous weapons in front of me so many times. Over time, my body got used to the threat and built resistance to the fear.
We appear behind the docks, where Saint’s car waits, and the security man pulls out his phone and speaks with his boss. My heart hammers against my chest, sweat breaking from my head even though my body’s frozen.
My thoughts run wild with so many questions. I focus on one thing only. Perfecting the lie I’d tell.
I come here a few times a month to watch the sea. I repeat the words in my head until a different man appears through the exit. He’s a few inches taller than Saint, and I see the resemblance between them.
It’s his brother.
My throat works, and my gaze locks on him, but only for a fleeting moment.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” He questions, eyes scanning me with precision.
“I’m… I really didn’t mean to intrude. I was trying to…”
“Trying to what? You’re trespassing, young man.”
“I…”
“Cat got your tongue, huh?” He gestures his soldiers toward me with a cock of his head. “Hold him still.”
The two men take their place behind me and force me to my knees. A grunt rips through my throat as my knees bruise against the gravel. The men pull my arms back, and pain digs into my skin, rippling through me.
I inhale sharply, chest rising as a chilling calm settle into my bones.
He pulls his gun and holds it to my head. “I’ll ask one more time.”
“I come here once a month to watch the sea.”
“And it happens to be the night I’m questioning traitors.” His jaw steels into something lethal. “Let’s try again, shall we?”
“I…”
Footsteps crunch ahead of me, and my eyes find Saint entering the scene. The man holding me at gunpoint looks over his shoulder, a menacing grin on his lips. “What do you reckon?” He asks.
“Let me take care of it.” Saint declares. “Do what I asked you to.”
“Alright, brother.” Virgil withdraws his gun and marches toward the freight container. The men holding me down let me go, and I stagger up to my feet. I straighten my jacket and spine, exhaling sharply. Saint jerks his head towards the shadowy part of the docks, and I follow him into it.
I step into the shadows with him, back against steel, while he stands a few steps away from me. The distance between us crackles with tension as he wears leather gloves. When he finally looks at me, my body reacts in a way that surprises me.
But I remind myself of that night.
I shouldn’t feel anything for him.
Thoughts of what he did to those men flood back in. Thoughts of what I wanted to do to my uncle follow through, forcing me to clench my fists.
“Relax, Rose. I’m not going to hurt you.” He looks at me only for a moment.
His words hollow me out so fast that I forget how to breathe. A cold weight drops into my stomach as I stare at him.
He knows. Of course, he fucking knows. He knows it’s me. He’s always known all this time.
“You really thought I wouldn’t recognize you.” He folds his hands and watches me. There’s a spray of blood on his suit. My eyes rest on them longer than they should.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Lie to me again.” A rough sound tears from his throat.
“Fuck you, Saint.”
“That’s really brave of you,” he chuckles. “But I only have one question. Why are you here? That’s all I need to know. The truth.”
“I was here to watch the sea.”
“At this odd hour. Try again, Mason.”
“You think I’m lying to you.”
“I know you’re lying to me.” He says quietly.
“I’m not.”
“Hmm.” He nods, tension setting in his jaw. “Your face?”
My heart sinks, and my fingers lift to the bruise on my jaw. “I fell.” I lie again. He regards me with a jaded stare, almost like he can’t contain his anger.
“Who hurt you?” He demands. He takes a step closer, and my heart jumps into my throat.
“No one. I slipped in the bathroom and fell.” I grit out, keeping my story straight. Is he furious that I got hurt?
He makes an odd sound and nods before he looks at me one more time. “I’m letting you off easy this time. Go home, boy.” He turns around and walks away. He stops and looks over his shoulder, gaze lethal. “Utter a word about this…”
“I won’t.”
I don’t waste a second. Boy? Did he think I was his pet? Fuck him.
I hop into the road, and I cross over to the yellow taxi waiting on the other side. I circle the trunk and enter the passenger seat, falling back on the leather seat. “Move,” I tell the driver, and the engine comes to life before he peels off the asphalt.
“What took you so long?”
“I got held up.”
“You’re paying extra, man.”
“Sure.” I scroll through my phone screen and dial Neo’s phone number. He picks up the second ring, and his deep baritone voice filters through the speaker. “How did your first stalking job go?”
“He doesn’t know about you or Vincent.”
“And…”
“He’s planning to meet up with someone at the poker room in Red Horn.”
“Perfect,” he chuckles. “See, when you do your job, the boss doesn’t get mad, and you don’t get hurt.”
“Whatever.” I say and hang up. I toss my phone onto the leather seat and force a groan down my throat, running my fingers through my hair.
Even though I’m on my way home, my thought chime with what happened inside that container. I don’t want to be like David. I’m nothing like him. I would never hurt him even if he handed me a blade himself.
I am not a monster like him.
I am not a monster like them.
Worse, Saint knows. Saint knows exactly who I am.
Not even the mask can save me from him now.
What if he decides to have me in his office?
The idea is reckless. And I never want that to happen.
I never want to feel unsafe at home and at the office.
I never want to walk every moment of my life with lung-straining discomfort.
After a while, the car slows to a halt outside my apartment, I pay the driver and hurry upstairs to my room, stripping once I had gotten through the doors and heading to the bathroom.
I need to get this feeling of frustration and dirtiness off of me.
The lukewarm water hits my back and rolls down my skin once I turn on the shower. I run my hands over my body and scrub as hard as I can, but the feeling still sits there.
Hollow.
Aching.
The need for revenge.
The need to watch the man who had stolen my childhood away from me bleed.
I’ve wanted it for a long time, but I always denied myself because I would never become the one thing I hate.
Him.