Page 11 of Ghost (Cerberus Personal Security #1)

SEVEN

Willow

The soft blue glow of the laptop illuminates Mason’s face as his fingers move across the keyboard, his expression severe. I watch from the kitchen, two mugs of coffee steaming in my hands. The last day has shown me another side of him—methodical, tactical, a mind as lethal as his body.

The USB drive containing my evidence against Steffan sits connected to Mason’s high-security laptop, its contents now laid bare.

“It’s worse than I thought.” His voice holds the flat tone I’m learning means controlled rage. “Your husband has connections to arms dealers in six countries. At least three judges in his pocket. And the offshore accounts…” He shakes his head. “How did you get all this?”

I place his coffee beside him, savoring the brush of his shoulder against mine.

“Three years of playing the perfect wife. People talk freely around women they underestimate.” I pause, remembering the careful cataloging of each scrap of information.

“I was a public defender before I married him. I knew what to look for. ”

He looks up at me then, something like admiration in his steel-gray eyes.

“You’re remarkable.”

The compliment warms me in places his hands haven’t touched. But there’s still caution in my soul, a voice that whispers: You barely know this man. Don’t make the same mistake twice.

The silence stretches between us, comfortable yet charged with unspoken questions. Outside, the storm has settled into a steady snowfall, quieter than yesterday’s rage but just as effective at keeping us isolated. A perfect cocoon for secrets and revelations.

“Mason,” I begin carefully, “who are you? Really?”

His fingers pause over the keyboard. For a moment, I think he’ll deflect again with a non-answer about being a wilderness guide. Instead, he closes the laptop and turns to face me fully.

“Former special operations. Delta Force, then something without a name.” His eyes hold mine, gauging my reaction. “I specialized in high-value target extraction and intelligence operations.”

“And now you live alone in the woods,” I say softly. “That’s quite a career change.”

A shadow crosses his face. “I had my reasons.”

“Rachel?” I whisper the name I heard him call out during last night’s nightmare, when he thrashed beside me, lost in memories I couldn’t see.

His whole body goes rigid. The mug in his hand freezes halfway to his lips. When he sets it down, the careful control of the movement speaks volumes about his internal struggle.

“How much do you want to know?” he asks finally.

“Everything,” I answer without hesitation. “I want to know everything I can.”

He nods once, sharply, then rises from the chair.

I follow him to the fireplace, where he stokes the flames higher before settling onto the sofa.

When I move to sit beside him, he pulls me into his lap instead, arranging me so my back rests against his chest, his arms locked around me like a fortress.

“It’s easier to say this when I’m not looking at you,” he admits, his breath warm against my hair.

I cover his hands with mine, offering silent support. Whatever demons haunt him, I’ll face them alongside him.

“Rachel was my submissive,” he begins, voice low and steady. “And my fiancée. We met after I returned from my third tour and lived the lifestyle. I was— struggling . PTSD, though I wouldn’t admit it then.”

His breathing shifts, becomes more controlled.

“About six months into our relationship, I had an episode. Woke up in the middle of the night with my hands around her throat, choking her.” The words emerge like broken glass.

“She was fighting me, clawing at my hands, trying to wake me up. By the time I came to, she had bruises. I nearly killed her.”

The self-loathing in his voice is devastating.

“I tried to leave her that night. Packed my shit, told her I was too dangerous, that she deserved better than a broken soldier who could kill her in his sleep. But Rachel…” His voice softens with memory and pain.

“She wouldn’t let me go. Said she knew the man I was beneath the damage, that we’d figure it out together. ”

His arms tighten fractionally around me. “She was my center. My rock. Helped me develop strategies to manage the episodes—sleeping arrangements, ways to ground myself when I felt one coming on. She gave me a reason to keep my shit together, to fight for something better than just surviving.”

The fire pops and crackles, filling the silence as he gathers his thoughts.

“After we got my episodes under control, I was recruited for specialized operations—the kind with no official record. The work was brutal but effective. I was good at it. Too good. Rachel knew not to ask questions, but she supported me. Gave me a safe place to come home to, a way to reconnect with humanity after the things I had to do.”

His voice remains steady, but I feel the tension in his body, the slight tremor in his hands beneath mine.

“Three years in, I was assigned to gather intelligence on a Russian arms dealer named Viktor Orlov. The mission went sideways. My cover was blown. I barely made it out alive. The rest of my team didn’t.”

He stops, his breathing carefully controlled.

“I should have known they’d track me back to Rachel. Should have had better security protocols in place.” The self-loathing returns, sharp and cutting. “I came home one night and found our apartment door ajar. Inside…”

He stops, his breathing carefully controlled.

“They tortured her. For information she didn’t have.” The words emerge with precision, each one carved from stone. “She died because of me. Because I brought my work home. Because I thought I could have both—the mission and a life with her.”

I turn in his arms, needing to see his face. The raw pain in his eyes steals my breath.

“Mason…” I whisper, but he continues, needing to finish.

“When that helicopter came over, I was back there. Back in Afghanistan, watching my team die. The sound triggered a flashback, and I was trying to fight my way out of it when you put your arms around me.” His hands frame my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone.

“That’s never happened before. No one’s ever been able to pull me back like that.

Rachel couldn’t do it. My therapists couldn’t do it.

But you—a woman I barely knew—you touched me and just—pulled me out. ”

His voice drops to a whisper, filled with wonder and confusion.

“Do you understand how impossible that is? How incredible? It’s why when you kissed me, I kissed you back.

Why I couldn’t resist you. The sex we’ve had, the intimacy we’ve shared—it’s not just physical.

There’s something about you, something I can’t explain. ”

The weight of his confession settles between us. “You brought me back from that flashback, but that doesn’t make me safe. It makes me more dangerous, because now I care about you too much to think clearly about the risk I pose.”

“What happened to Rachel wasn’t your fault,” I whisper, cupping his face in my hands.

“I was trained to anticipate threats. To protect assets.” His voice hardens. “I failed her.”

“You weren’t her protector—you were her partner,” I say firmly. “The blame lies with the people who killed her.”

His jaw clenches beneath my palm. “After her funeral, I hunted them down. All of them. It wasn’t sanctioned. Wasn’t clean. When it was done, I… I disappeared into these mountains where I couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

The confession hangs between us, heavy with implications. I search his face, seeing the warrior beneath the guilt, the protector beneath the pain.

“I’ve been up here almost two years,” he continues. “Just me, Bear, and Chaos. No visitors. No contact. I came here to disappear. To make sure I didn’t hurt anyone else.”

Something fractures in my chest. This man, this protector, this storm-forged warrior has been punishing himself for something he couldn’t control.

“You’ve been alone that long?”

His smile is crooked. “Not anymore.”

Silence stretches between us. Warm. Complicated. Full of truths too big to say aloud.

“I know what happened between us came from a heightened place,” I whisper. “You saved me. I was scared and hurting and needed something to hold onto. I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything.”

His hand tightens on mine. “You think that’s what this is?”

“I hope not, but I need you to know I don’t expect anything from you.”

He nods slowly, then shifts, pulling me gently onto his lap. His voice, when it comes, is quiet but unyielding.

“I hear you, but I need you to understand something. Even if you hadn’t come apart in my arms, even if we’d spent the night on opposite sides of this cabin, I would still protect you.

I would still stand between you and whatever’s hunting you.

That’s not because of the sex. That’s because it’s who I am. ”

Tears sting my eyes. “That’s not something I’m used to hearing. Especially from a man. Especially not one I barely know.”

“You’re not used to a man being a man,” he says. “To someone standing up for you just because it’s right.”

“Steffan has ties in every department,” I whisper. “Cops, FBI, even judges. I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

“You didn’t.” Mason’s expression hardens with quiet conviction. “I have friends too. Not official channels. Not the kind who wear uniforms. But they’re loyal. Smart. Trained. They’re already en route.”

“What?”

“I made a call while you were sleeping.”

I blink at him. “You—did?”

“You deserve peace. You deserve to live. I can give you that.” He cups my jaw, his thumb brushing my bottom lip. “And once this is over, if you’re still willing, I’d like to explore this. Us . Not as a one-night thing. But as something more.”

“I’d like that,” I whisper.

“Good, because this is happening.” His eyes darken, pupils dilating.

One hand slides up to cup the back of my neck, thumb tracing my pulse point.

“I swore I’d never take responsibility for another submissive.

Never trust myself with that power again.

Then you said ‘ yes, sir ’ in that soft voice, and everything in me wanted to claim you. ”

Heat pools low in my belly at his words. “I never responded to Steffan that way, even before the abuse started.” I meet his gaze steadily. “With you …” Now it’s my turn to pause. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it comes naturally.”

A growl rumbles through his chest. “Dangerous words, little one.”

“The truth often is.” I press closer, my lips a whisper from his. “I trust you. All of you—even the parts you’re afraid of.”

His control snaps. He claims my mouth in a bruising kiss that steals my breath. His hands brand my skin through the borrowed clothes, marking me as his. When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathing hard.

“I’ve been hiding from my life long enough. Punishing myself for Rachel. But finding you…” He shakes his head, wonder mixing with determination. “I’m done hiding. I’m done letting ghosts dictate my choices.”

Pain flickers across his face. “Rachel would hate what I’ve become. This—half-life.” His thumb traces my lower lip. “She would have liked you, though. Your courage. Your resilience.”

Tears prick at my eyes. “I wish I could have met her.”

“So do I.” The simple honesty in his voice breaks my heart and heals it in the same moment.

Twin growls suddenly shatter our peace. Chaos and Bear are alerting to something.

In an instant, Mason is off the bed, grabbing the tablet and flipping through perimeter camera feeds. Bear lumbers to the window, fur bristling, a low growl rumbling from his chest.

“Movement,” he says, voice shifting to tactical precision. “Someone is watching the cabin. ”

“Drake?” Fear slithers down my spine.

“Most likely.” He turns to me, soldier replacing lover. “They lost you in the blizzard—white-out conditions should have made tracking impossible. We spent the night in the shelter, then I brought you here. There’s no trail for them to follow, no reason they should suspect you’re here.”

His jaw tightens as he studies the feeds. “Most likely, they’re searching grid by grid. It’s what I would do. Checking every structure, every possible shelter within a fifty-mile radius. It was only a matter of time before they reached this area.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means they’re thorough, and they won’t stop until they find you.” He sets down the tablet, his expression grim. “The storm’s easing. They’ll make their move soon. We need to prepare.”

“For what?”

“For war.” The deadly certainty in his voice should terrify me. Instead, it steadies me.