Page 45 of Unmask (Crew of Elmwood Public #2)

KAYLOR

I woke up in darkness. The kind that pressed against your eyelids like velvet, making it impossible to tell if your eyes were open or closed, if the world still existed beyond the suffocating quiet.

The bed beside me was empty, cold sheets stretched where warmth should have been.

My hand instinctively reached out anyway, fingers searching blindly across the mattress for Kreed, expecting to find the familiar landscape of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest. Nothing but cotton and disappointment.

My pulse jumped, a staccato rhythm too loud in the silence.

Pushing the covers off with more force than necessary, I sat up slowly, the cool air hitting my bare legs.

I blinked hard into the dark, trying to force my vision to adjust as I swung my feet to the floor and strode toward the hallway.

The hardwood was ice beneath my bare soles; each step a small shock to help clear the fog of sleep from my brain.

A faint flicker of light bled up from downstairs, painting ghostly rectangles on the hallway walls. Shadows danced and shifted, accompanied by the soft murmur of a television filtering up through the quiet house.

Kreed . It had to be him. Maybe he couldn’t sleep either; maybe he was waiting for me to find him.

I padded down the stairs, each step careful and deliberate to avoid the creaks I’d memorized.

His oversized hoodie from earlier hung loose around my frame, the sleeves swallowing my hands completely, the fabric still carrying traces of his cologne.

The glow of the television drew me into the living room, but it wasn’t Kreed sprawled across the leather couch.

Mason?

He sat there with casual confidence, one long leg draped over the other, remote balanced lazily in his palm.

A smug little grin played at the corners of his mouth as he flipped through channels with a deliberate slowness suggesting he had nowhere else to be.

The blue light from the screen cast angles across his face, highlighting the aristocratic line of his jaw and the mischief that seemed permanently etched in his features.

“What are you doing here? Where’s Kreed?” I demanded, wondering what was going on. Nothing like going to sleep with one Corvo and waking up with another.

He turned toward me with that infuriating sparkle in his eye, the one suggesting he knew exactly how unsettled I was and found it endlessly entertaining. “Out. It’s just you and me, my little kitten.” His voice carried that trademark Mason drawl, honey smooth and designed to get under your skin.

I arched a brow, crossing my arms defensively across my chest. “Is that supposed to make me feel secure?”

“At least I’m not Maddox,” he said with a shrug that somehow managed to be both dismissive and suggestive. He stretched like a cat in a sunbeam, all lazy grace and hidden claws. “Pretty sure he’s got a hard-on for you.”

My nose wrinkled at the mental image. “Let’s save the dick talks for another night.”

Mason raised an eyebrow. “Even Kreed’s?”

Heat flashed up my neck, but I pushed through it with stubborn determination. “You want to talk about how impressive your brother’s cock is? How fucking huge is it? How he knows exactly how to?—”

“Okay, stop. You’re right. Bad idea.” He held up both hands in mock surrender, but his grin only widened, those dimples carving deep crescents in his cheeks.

The expression lit up his whole face, transforming him from dangerous criminal to charming rogue in the space of a heartbeat.

For a second, I almost felt sorry for the poor girls who didn’t know better than to fall for Mason Corvo’s particular brand of trouble.

“You didn’t answer my question,” I pointed out, steering him back to the topic. “Where is he?”

“Out with Raine and Mad.”

My stomach twisted into a familiar knot of dread. “Did something happen? Did he?—?”

“No, not yet.” Mason’s grin faded. He muted the television, plunging us into a quieter intimacy. “This is why he didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

That twinkle of anticipation that had bloomed inside me like a fragile flower fizzled and died.

Of course. Hope was dangerous. Hope was sharp-edged and treacherous.

I sank onto the opposite end of the couch, tucking my legs beneath me.

“So what kind of ‘not yet’ are we talking about here? The kind where he comes home with good news, or the kind where he comes home bleeding?”

Mason studied me for a long moment, his expression uncharacteristically thoughtful. “You really want to know, or are you just asking because you think you should?”

The question caught me off guard. “I want to know. I need to know.”

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “They got a tip about where they might be transporting. If it pans out, if they can get these girls out… It might give us leverage. Information. A way to trace this whole fucking network back to whoever’s pulling the strings.”

I didn’t give a shit about the network. I cared about my friend. “And if it doesn’t pan out?”

“Then they come home empty-handed, and we start over tomorrow. But Kreed…” He paused, running a hand through his dark hair.

“He’s not the type to let things go. He won’t stop until he finds answers even if it kills him for your sake.

Kreed doesn’t give loyalty easily, but when he does, it’s unbreakable. ”

The words hung between us, a bridge I wasn’t sure I wanted to cross. “You think he’s in danger tonight?”

“I think Kreed is always in danger.” Mason’s smile returned, but it was different now, guarded. “But he’s got Raine and Maddox watching his back. They’ll be fine.”

“How did you get stuck here with me?”

“Someone had to make sure you didn’t run off and get yourself kidnapped or killed.”

My stomach suddenly growled so loudly and demandingly that even Mason raised a brow. “When was the last time you ate?” he inquired.

I pressed a hand to my abdomen, trying to remember when I’d last put food in my body that wasn’t coffee or whatever passed for cafeteria sustenance at school.

“Who knows.” I shrugged. “I’m getting a snack.

Do you want anything?” I offered as I pushed myself off the couch, needing the movement, the distraction of routine tasks.

“Anything but that hummus shit you’re always eating,” he called after me.

I rolled my eyes but didn’t answer as I went to the kitchen.

Only the faint night-light under the cabinet cast a warm amber glow, creating a small island of safety in the sea of black.

I opened the fridge, the sudden burst of white light making me squint as cold air rushed out to embrace my skin.

The shelves were better stocked than they had any right to be, Brock’s doing, his quiet way of taking care of me when he wasn’t here.

I rummaged around halfheartedly, pushing aside containers of leftover takeout and bottles of water, not really seeing any of it.

That’s when I heard it.

A faint buzzing, barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator.

I frowned, my hand freezing halfway to a container of strawberries. The sound came again, muted but persistent, like an insect trapped behind glass. I straightened slowly, letting the fridge door swing shut and plunge me back into amber twilight, my ears straining to locate the source.

I reached for my phone on the granite counter, fingers fumbling in the dim light, but the screen remained dark and silent. No new notifications. No missed calls. Nothing.

The buzzing hadn’t come from my phone, so where? Had one of the guys left their device here? Was it Mason’s? But he was still in the living room.

I turned slowly, every nerve ending suddenly alive and crackling with unease.

The sound was definitely coming from behind me, somewhere near the kitchen table.

My eyes landed on the chair where I’d carelessly dumped my bag earlier after stumbling through the front door, exhausted after seeing Rusty and Carter.

A chill ran down my spine, ice-cold fingers tracing each vertebra.

My feet felt heavy as concrete as I crossed the room.

I unzipped the front pocket of my bag with trembling fingers, the metal teeth parting with a soft whisper.

Digging inside, my hand brushed past the usual debris of student life, crumpled receipts, lip balm, and loose change until my fingers found something that didn’t belong.

Something hard. Small. And definitely not mine.

A burner phone.

I pulled it out like it might bite me, the cheap plastic warm against my palm.

I’d never seen it before. The screen glowed to life at my touch, no passcode, no security, nothing standing between me and whatever message had been burning a hole through my bag.

A single text was displayed across the cracked screen, the words stark and brutal in their simplicity:

Tomorrow. Midnight. The old train yard off Route 19. Come alone. No Crew. No Corvo. No Cops. Or Kenny dies.

My breath caught in my throat. I reread the message, the words blurring slightly as my hands began to shake, hoping the letters would rearrange themselves into words less terrifying. My world tilted sideways, reality shifting beneath my feet.

The phone grew heavier in my hands, the message echoing in my skull like a warning siren that wouldn’t stop screaming. How the fuck did this phone get in my bag? When could someone have put it there? How long has it been in there?

I tried to retrace my steps, but panic was creeping up my throat, making it hard to think clearly. I’d gone to school, sat through classes, eaten lunch, and pretended to care about assignments. The shop and then to Carson’s after. That was it. I hadn’t left my bag unattended except…

Except in the town car when Evan came to pick us up at the shop.

My mind began to spin as I thought back. I’d left it in the back seat while we went inside Carson’s, trusting in the illusion of safety that Evan’s presence provided.