Page 29 of Mason

"Back off," I snarl, jerkin' away from her touch. The world's blurring at the edges, each shot draggin' me deeper into the abyss I'm too tired to climb out of.

"Easy, brother." Dagger’s voice cuts through the haze, his massive frame shadowing the neon lights. "You're crashing hard, man."

"Mind your own damn business," I shoot back, slamming the bottle onto the bar with enough force to make the bartender flinch. My reflection stares back from behind rows of liquor. I don’t even recognize myself.

"Dammit, Mason, this isn't you!" Dagger growls, fists clenched at his sides like he's ready to go to war. And maybe he is—against me.

"Since when do you decide who I am?" I spit out the words, venom laced with bourbon.

"Since I watched my brother turn into a goddamn train wreck!" He barks.

"Brother?" I laugh, but it's hollow, empty as the bottles lining the counter. "You think this patch makes us family?"

"Blood couldn't make us closer," he snaps, stepping into my space, the stench of sweat and oil mixing with the stale air. "But hell, Mason, if you wanna throw punches instead of talking, I’m right here!"

"Maybe I do," I say, rising to meet him eye-to-eye, toe-to-toe.

"Then bring it!" Dagger roars.

And we collide, two forces of nature bound by blood and betrayal, our brotherhood tested under flying fists and splintered loyalties.

Fists fly, knuckles crunch against jawbone. Rage fuels every punch I throw, pain and liquor sharpening each hook. My world narrows to the man before me, Dagger, brother in arms, now just another obstacle.

"Come on, Pres!" he bellows, voice rough as gravel, meeting my fury with his own relentless assault.

Blood coats my lips, but I grin through it. His punch lands square on my cheek, and I stagger back and spit blood. Then the room begisn to spin.

"Is that all you got?" I taunt, wiping a red smear across my sleeve.

"More where that came from mother fucker!" Dagger laughs, but I see it—the flash of worry behind his eyes, even as his fist comes flying toward my face.

We're a whirlwind of anger, throwing punches that speak louder than words ever could. I take one to the gut, feel the air rush out, but I give as good as I get, nailing him right in the chest.

"Fight me, not yourself," Dagger grunts, voice strained under the impact.

"Shut up," I snarl back, but there's less heat in it now, exhaustion creeping into my limbs.

Our brawl is all raw emotion stripping us down to nothing but instinct and need.

Then, suddenly, we're on the ground, the fight knocked out of us. Breath ragged, hearts hammering, we lie there amidst the wreckage. And then it happens—we laugh. A harsh roar of laughter that echoes off the walls, a release valve for the tension that's been building for too long.

"Fuck, Mason..." Dagger gasps between laughs, shaking his head.

"Damn, Dagger..." I manage, laughter stealing my breath.

On the floor, amidst spilled drinks and shattered glass, something shifts. Our laughter melds with the lingering echoes of our blows, crafting a testament to the unbreakable bond we share.

"Brothers, huh?" he says, voice still laced with amusement.

"Always," I affirm, feeling the truth of it in my battered bones.

We rise, shoulder to shoulder, our fight forgotten but not forgiven. In the end, it's the laughter that lingers, a reminder that no matter how hard we fall, we'll always pick each other back up.

CARLIE

I’m outside checking the mail after work when Jenny’s truckpulls into my driveway. I wonder what’s going on, she didn’t tell me she was dropping by. Her boots hit the pavement, urgency in her stride as she zeroes in on me. Her eyes are wide, a storm of intent swirling within them. "Carlie," she breathes out, grabbing my arm with a firmness that tells me this is no casual chat.

"Jenny?" I ask, heart hitching. My voice trembles, betraying the calm I'm not feeling. Something about her grip, her gaze—it ignites a wildfire of nerves in my belly.

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