Chapter 8

I didn't sleep that night because every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mason's face. The way he'd looked at me in the coffee shop. The way he'd said I'm done running. The way his fingers had wrapped around my wrist like he was afraid I'd disappear.

And then Sloane's voice in my head. Broken people break other people.

I was trapped between two truths. One telling me to run. The other telling me to stay.

By morning, I'd made a decision.

I wasn't going to run. Not yet.

I called in sick to work. Mrs. Patel sounded worried, but I assured her I was fine. Just a cold.

Then I called Sloane.

"I'm going to help him," I said before she could speak. "With Vincent. With my father. All of it."

Silence.

"Lucy—"

"I know what you're going to say. I know he's dangerous. I know he'll break my heart." My voice cracked. "But I can't just sit here and do nothing. Not when my father's involved."

Sloane was quiet for a long moment. Then: "You're not going to do this alone."

"What?"

"I'm coming with you." Her voice was firm. "If you're going to dive into this mess, I'm not letting you drown. Mason's my brother. Vincent's connected to my family. I have as much right to be involved as you do."

"Sloane—"

"Don't argue. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

She hung up before I could respond.

I stared at my phone and felt something loosen in my chest.

At least I wouldn't be alone. Sloane showed up in twenty minutes flat.

She was wearing dark jeans and a leather jacket. Determined expression. Hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"Let's go," she said.

"Where?"

"To talk to my brother." She grabbed my hand. "You're not doing this alone, remember?"

I let her drag me out the door.

Mason opened the door like he'd been expecting us.

His eyes swept over me first. Then Sloane. His expression was unreadable.

"Sloane. Lucy." He stepped aside. "Come in."

The house was different in daylight. Less intimidating. More... normal.

Mason led us to the living room. The same room where he'd kissed me. I tried not to look at the spot where we'd stood.

Sloane sat down first. I sat beside her. Mason remained standing.

"I'm guessing Lucy told you everything," he said.

"She told me about Vincent. About my father. About the robbery." Sloane's voice was cold. "What she didn't tell me is why you've been keeping secrets from me."

Mason's jaw tightened. "I was trying to protect you."

"From what?"

"From the truth." He looked at her. "Vincent isn't just connected to Lucy's family. He's connected to ours too. The testimony. The firing. It all ties back to Dad."

Sloane went pale. "What are you talking about?"

Mason pulled out a folder. The same one he'd shown me. He handed it to Sloane.

Sloane opened it. Read. Her face shifted from confusion to shock to something darker.

"Dad fired Vincent's father because of Lucy's dad's testimony," she said slowly. "And now Vincent wants revenge."

"On everyone involved," Mason confirmed. "Lucy. Us. Dad. Anyone who had a hand in it."

Sloane closed the folder. Her hands were shaking.

"How long have you known?"

"Since the robbery. I started digging after Lucy was targeted."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"I was trying to keep you out of it."

Sloane laughed bitterly. "Keep me out of it? I'm already in it. I've been in it my whole life." She stood up. "You don't get to decide what I can handle. You don't get to decide what I need to know."

"Sloane—"

"Don't." She held up a hand. "I'm going to help Lucy. Whether you like it or not."

Mason's jaw tightened. But he nodded.

"Fine. But we do this my way."

"Your way involves secrets and lies."

"My way involves keeping everyone alive."

I stepped between them. "Enough. Both of you."

They both looked at me.

"We're in this together," I said. "All of us. Vincent won't stop until he gets what he wants. So we need to figure out what that is and how to stop him."

Mason was quiet. Then: "He wants the original testimony. The one that got his father fired."

"Where is it?"

"In a safe deposit box." His eyes met mine. "My father's. He's kept it hidden for years."

"So we get it. Give it to Vincent. End this."

Mason shook his head. "It's not that simple. The testimony is the only leverage we have. If we give it to Vincent, he has everything he needs to destroy our family."

"Then we destroy it."

"Can't. It's protected. If we try to destroy it, it triggers a chain of evidence that exposes everything. My father's lawyers made sure of that."

I wanted to scream.

"So what's the plan?" Sloane asked.

Mason looked at her. Then at me.

"We find another way. One that doesn't involve giving Vincent what he wants."

"And how do we do that?"

"I don't know yet." His voice was rough. "But I'm working on it."

I sat down. My head was spinning.

This was bigger than I'd thought. Bigger than a simple robbery. Vincent wasn't just after revenge. He was after destruction.

And we were caught in the middle.

Sloane left an hour later. She had to get back to work. But I stayed.

Mason didn't ask me to. He didn't tell me to leave either. He just sat there, staring at the wall, his jaw tight.

I sat beside him.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"No."

"Me neither."

He almost smiled. Almost.

"My father doesn't know," he said quietly. "About any of it. The testimony. Vincent. The robbery. He thinks Vincent's just a disgruntled former employee."

"Should you tell him?"

"I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair. "Part of me wants to. The other part knows he'd try to handle it himself. And my father's not exactly subtle."

I thought about Mr. Chen. The confident businessman I'd met at dinner. The man who'd offered me a job I didn't deserve.

"He seems like he wants to help," I said.

"He wants to control." Mason's voice was flat. "There's a difference."

I didn't argue.

We sat in silence for a long time.

Then Mason turned to me.

"Why did you come back?"

"What?"

"After everything. The note. The way I treated you. Why did you come back?"

I looked at him. His eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them. Vulnerable. Waiting.

Because I still loved him. That was the honest answer.

But I couldn't say that. Not when his sister had just warned me he'd break my heart.

"Because I need answers," I said. "About my father. About Vincent. About all of it."

"Just answers?"

I didn't answer.

Mason studied my face. Then he nodded slowly.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." He stood up. "I'm going to show you something. Something I've never shown anyone."

I followed him upstairs.

His bedroom was bigger than I'd imagined. Dark colors. And his intimidating looking bed.

He walked to the closet. Pulled out a box from the top shelf.

"These are my father's records," he said, opening it. "Copies. Everything he has on Vincent's father."

I looked inside. Photos. Documents. Transcripts.

"Your father kept all of this?"

"Obsessively." Mason's voice was bitter. "He's always been paranoid. Turns out it's useful."

I pulled out a photo. A man I didn't recognize. Dark hair. Hard eyes.

"Vincent's father," Mason said.

"He looks like his son."

"Same anger. Same determination." Mason took the photo from me. "They're both dangerous. But Vincent is smarter. More calculating."

"Which makes him harder to catch."

"Yes."

I looked at the box. At the years of records Mason's father had kept.

This wasn't just about Vincent. This was about two families destroying each other.

And I was caught in the middle.

"We need to figure out what Vincent wants," I said. "Really wants. Revenge. Or something else?"

Mason looked at me. "You think he wants more than revenge?"

"I think he wants to hurt your family. And he's using me to do it." I met his eyes. "But he has to know that won't work. You've already proven you don't care about me."

Mason flinched. Just slightly.

"I don't care about anyone," he said. "That's the point."

"Keep telling yourself that."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he pulled me closer.

"I'm going to say this once," he said. "And then we're never going to talk about it again."

I waited.

"Everything I said before—about not caring, about using you—it was a lie." His voice was rough. "I've never told anyone the truth about anything. Not Sloane. Not my parents. Not the women I bring home. But I'm telling you now."

"And what's the truth?"

His eyes burned into mine.

"The truth is, I'm terrified of how much I want you."

I didn't sleep that night.

I lay in my own bed, staring at the ceiling, Mason's words playing on a loop.

I'm terrified of how much I want you.

It wasn't a declaration of love. It wasn't a promise. But it was something. Something real.

And I didn't know what to do with it.

The next morning, Sloane called.

"Vincent made contact," she said. "He sent my father a letter. Demanding the testimony. Threatening the family."

My blood ran cold. "What does it say?"

"I'll read it to you." She paused. Then: "I want what's mine. The testimony that destroyed my father. Give it to me by the end of the month, or I'll start taking things you care about. Starting with Lucy."

I felt sick.

"He knows where I live," I whispered.

"He knows everything. And he's not going to stop until he gets what he wants."

I hung up. My hands were shaking.

This was real. This was happening.

Vincent wasn't just a threat. He was coming for me.

And I didn't know if Mason could stop him.