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I hid my head in Mason’s chest and closed my eyes. He was so warm, his heat so soothing, thrumming from within him as if its sole purpose was to bring me peace and make me feel safe. I never wanted him to let me go.
We reached his truck, and he set me back on my feet. He threw the passenger door open, then helped me inside. It was so high that it would’ve been a challenge for me to climb in on my own. He rushed to the driver’s side and got in.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes.”
As he started the engine, I couldn’t look away from the burning mansion. The flames had engulfed the second and the first floors.
“Should we call 911?” I asked.
“Absolutely not. Let it all turn to ashes.”
“I don’t know, Mason...”
He turned to me and forced me to look at him. “Listen to me, Maya. Do you know what I found out? That you’re not the firstone. There were other women, and God knows what happened to them. And you wouldn’t have been the last.”
I shuddered. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
I looked back at the house. No matter how hard it was for me to witness the fire, it was impossible to look away. I tried to make sense of my feelings, but it was all happening too fast. I was conflicted. There had been other women. Vincent Lockwood certainly deserved to die a horrible death.
As Mason started pulling out of the driveway, I saw one of the garage doors open. A red Chevy shot out, straight to the gates that were opening before it, as if someone had activated them by remote control.
“Who is that? Is that Lockwood?”
Mason hesitated for a moment. We watched together as the red Chevy drove through the gates, leaving them open for us.
“No,” he said. “That’s his mother.”
“What?!”
“Victoria Lockwood.”
“So, she’s alive. I never did anything to her.”
“No. That was Lockwood gaslighting and manipulating both of us. If anything, you helped Victoria.”
“How?”
He drove the truck through the gates, and we were on our way to the main road. I realized the mansion was isolated. There was not a neighbor in sight. It was going to take a while before someone saw the fire and called 911. It would be too late. The house would probably be ashes by then. No one was going to know what had happened in that basement.
“I’ll tell you everything when we get to my brother’s place.”
“Your brother’s place?”
“It will be safe for you there. I know you want to go home, Maya, but I’ll feel better knowing you’re with me.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
He reached over and squeezed my hand.
“Get some sleep,” he said. “Let me take care of everything.”
“I’m worried,” I confessed. “What if they figure out it was you who started the fire?”
“One step at a time.”
