Chapter 204

MASON’S POV The tires screeched against the pavement as I veered the car left, narrowly avoiding a pile of debris—rubble, glass, maybe bodies—I didn’t check. The engine roared beneath me, the stench of burning rubber mingling with blood and smoke as I sped away from the war zone that had once been a pristine city plaza. I glanced at the rearview mirror and snorted. Mayor Blackstone was slumped against the leather seat, panting like a wet dog. His once-pristine suit was smeared with blood and ash, one sleeve torn, his hands shaking. “Seatbelt,” I said dryly, just to needle him. He didn’t respond. Just glared ahead with those wild eyes, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to scream or cry. I didn’t blame him. His plan had failed. Colossally. Epically. Disastrously. “Tell me again,” I said after a long moment, when we’d left the chaos behind and all we had to worry about was the slow-moving traffic, “how exactly you thought framing Andrea Carter was a good idea?” “Shut up, Holland.” His