Page 3 of Mason

"Carlie Meadows, you're more than Miss Prim-and-Proper." Jenny's voice softens, but the intensity in her gaze doesn't waver. "You've got a fire in you. Let it out for the world to see."

Fire. The word sparks something deep within, a flicker of defiance that surprises me. Could I really do this? Could stepping into the Iron Reapers' world be the start of something new?

Jenny grabs my hand, her grip firm. "Perdition isn’t just a bar, it's… God, it’s too hard to put into words," she says, pulling me to my bedroom.

“You’ve been there?” I gasp.

She shrugs nonchalantly, “A couple of times with some of the girls from work.” She’s a hairstylist during the day and a bartender at night. She’s the chaos to my caution and it’s been that way since we were six years old.

She scans my closet and lands on a black top in the back. One I’ve kept for years, but have never worn because it was a little too tight and revealing. “Here, put this on,” she says, shoving it at me.

I pull the top over my head and it sticks to me like a glove. It’s tighter than it was when I bought it and it shows a lot of cleavage. I feel naked. Before I can protest, Jenny pulls me into the bathroom and has me sit on the toilet where she grabs my makeup and starts applying it much heavier than I had already put on. Then she pulls my hair out of the bun I had it in and does her magic, teasing and playing like only a hairstylist can.

“What’s it like?” I ask while she’s working on me.

"You'll just have to see for yourself,” She grins. “There, all done.”

I stand and look at myself in the mirror. My long blond hair is hanging loosely down my back in a style I’d never be able toachieve on my own. My make-up is dark but makes my blue eyes pop. I almost don’t recognize myself. I can’t believe I look this good. Maybe tonight won’t be all bad.

The idea of stepping into that unknown world, where the roar of engines is the heartbeat and leather is a second skin, makes my heart beat fast.

"Trust me," Jenny says as we climb into her beat-up Chevy. "Tonight's going to make everything better."

My hands shake as I push open the heavy door to Hellfire. The leather-clad crowd inside throws me off kilter, their laughter and shouts bouncing off walls like a warning. Harsh neon lights flicker overhead, carving shadows across faces that don't look friendly. Stale beer and sweat hang thick in the air, mingling with the growl of rock music.

The door swings shut behind us, and Perdition swallows us whole. It's louder than I thought possible, the scent of leather and gasoline almost tangible. Jenny's hand grips mine, her energy electric as she pulls me forward.

"Come on, girl! This is what living looks like!" Jenny's voice is a lifeline in the riotous storm.

"Living or surviving?" I half-joke, but my heart is racing, my free hand clutching at the strap of my purse. Bikers surround us, laughter and shouts mingling with the blaring rock music.

"Both!" Jenny laughs, her eyes sparking with life. "You'll see. Just stick with me."

I nod, trying to match her enthusiasm, but it's hard. Hard to ignore the way my stomach twists, how every sense is heightened. I'm out of place here—a lamb amongst wolves—and I can feel their eyes on me, curious or dismissive, possibly something darker.

"Hey, don't worry," Jenny reassures me, reading my tension. "These guys? They're just big teddy bears. Well, dangerous teddy bears with tattoos and like to get into bar fights."

"Reassuring," I manage a smile, finding a shred of bravery. But it's thin, flimsy against the raw power that permeates the air.

"Trust me, Carlie," Jenny says, and somehow, I do. Because Jenny's never steered me wrong. And because, deep down, there's a part of me that wants to dive into the deep end—to see if I can swim.

"Okay," I murmur. "Lead the way."

And so she does, weaving through the crowd, a beacon of brash confidence. And I follow, because that's what you do when you're searching for something more—when you're tired of being the sweet and kind one. You take a deep breath, and you step into Perdition.

"Come on," Jenny shouts over the noise, grabbing my arm and pulling me deeper into the chaos. Lights flicker like dying stars, casting the patrons in a hazy glow. They're a blur of tattoos and denim. We dance together on the dance floor for a few songs as I try and reign in my nerves.

And there, in the heart of it all, he sits. Watching me.

"Damn," Jenny murmurs beside me, her voice lost to the roar of the bar. "Girl, you've been spotted."

He doesn't blink, doesn't break away. His gaze holds me captive, stripping away the layers I've wrapped myself in. For a heartbeat, or maybe an eternity, it's just us and the thunderous beat of Perdition's pulse.

"Who is he?" My words come out in a whisper, drowned by the relentless chaos.

"Mason Blackstone," Jenny says, close to my ear. "President of the Iron Reapers MC. And honey, you've got his full attention."

I swallow hard, feeling heat creep up my neck. This isn't me. I'm Carlie Meadows, the teacher who comforts scared kids and bandages scraped knees. But here, under Mason's intense scrutiny, I'm someone else – someone daring, someone reckless.

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