Vulture:
FBI just called. They've got a location on Castellano.
Moving in tonight. Need all hands for backup in case it goes sideways.
I show Ava the text, and her eyes go hard.
"I want to be there."
"Absolutely not."
"Mason, this is my story. I've earned the right to see it through."
"And you will. From here, where it's safe." I stand, already planning logistics. "The FBI doesn't need journalists in theiroperation, and I need to know you're protected while we're gone."
"So I just sit here and wait? While everyone else finishes what I started?"
"Yes, that's exactly what you do." I cup her face, making sure she's looking at me. "I know it's not fair. I know you want to be theorem but I can't focus on the mission if I'm worried about you. Please, Ava stay here, let us handle this."
She wants to argue. I can see it in every line of her body. But finally, she nods. "Fine, but you call me the second it's done. I want to know immediately."
"Deal."
I get dressed quickly, strapping on my cut and checking my weapons. Ava watches from the bed, wrapped in the sheet, her expression a mixture of frustration and fear.
"Be careful," she says as I head for the door.
"Always am."
"That's still a lie."
"I know." I cross back to her, kissing her hard. "But I'm coming back, that's a promise."
"You better, because if you die on me, I'm going to be pissed."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
I leave her there, forcing myself not to look back, and head downstairs where brothers are already gearing up. Falcon briefs us on the location, a private estate north of the city where Castellano's been hiding. The FBI's leading the operation, but they've requested our presence as backup in case Castellano's got private security.
We ride out in force, a dozen bikes tearing through the night toward whatever ending this story's written for us.
And the whole way there, I think about Ava waiting for me at the compound, about the promise I made to come back, and about the future we're both terrified to hope for.
This has to work. It has to end with Castellano in custody and Ava safe, because I'm not ready to lose her.
Not now.
Not ever.
Chapter 8
Ava
Waiting is torture. I've paced Ice Pick's room so many times I've probably worn a path in the floor, and every minute that passes without word feels like an hour. Sarah found me twenty minutes ago and dragged me downstairs to the common room, insisting that isolation's only making my anxiety worse.
She's right, but that doesn't make it easier.
"They're going to be fine," Sarah says for the third time, perched on the couch beside me with a cup of tea she made in an attempt to calm my nerves. "Mason knows what he's doing. The whole club knows what they're doing."
