“Mason, please—”
“I’ll try and make this as painless as possible,” Mason adds in a softer voice. “I’m telling you because you asked me to be honest.”
I lurch into action and stumble in his general direction. He catches me, and the pounding in my chest drowns out everything else. “What if we made them a good offer? What if we gave them something they wanted?”
Mason’s hands move to my waist. “What are you talking about?”
“The people who kidnapped me.” The words pour out of me in a rush. “I overheard Katia talking about it the other day. They wanted the diner, didn’t they? It’s in a prime location, and you wouldn’t give it to them.”
Mason’s expression turns blank. “You should know better than to eavesdrop.”
“The diner is struggling anyway. It won’t survive without a miracle, and the last time I spoke to my dad, I got the sense he’d be glad to lose it.”
Mason doesn’t say anything for a long time.
Finally, he releases me, and I feel cold all over.
“Are you sure that’s what he said, or is that just something you want to believe to make yourself feel better?”
I stiffen. “Feel better about what?”
“About the role you think you played in all of this.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “It’s not wrong for me to try and make this right.”
“None of this is your fault. If it wasn’t the diner, it would’ve been something else. They’ve been trying to find a way to take us down for a while.”
“I thought you were allies?”
“That means nothing in my world. It just means they wait longer to figure out where to plant the knife to make it bleed.”
I swallow. “So, offering them the diner won’t help?”
An hour ago, after catching my dad in a rare moment of vulnerability, I felt hopeful. Not only had he taken my call, butwe’d fallen into familiar rhythms when I brought up the diner, and I heard the deep ache and resignation in his voice.
He didn’t need to say it.
He didn’t have to.
I know my father well enough to know when he is at his wits’ end.
Giving them the diner might prevent an all-out war, and in the long run, I believe my father would be better for it.
At least that’s what I tell myself.
Now, there’s a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, and the vicious voices in the back of my head have only grown louder.
You knew better than to hope for a miracle, but you did anyway.
Mason exhales. “It’s too late.”
My stomach lurches. “What if I made them the offer? I could offer to work for them for an agreed-upon amount of time. Something to appease their egos or whatever—”
“No.”
“It’s at least worth trying.” Fear and frustration flood my senses. “You should at least consider the possibility that—”
Mason places his hands around my waist. “I’ll burn every last fucking one of them to the ground before I let you willingly go to them.”
