Savage Things (Chaos & Ruin Book 2) by Callie Hart Page B

one, like the sound of that plan,” Mason adds.  
    On the sidelines, literally at the very edge of the room, Michael keeps his own council. I have no idea which plan he thinks is more beneficial over the other, but he watches the scene unfolding before him with sharp, intelligent eyes, the slightest glimmer of curiosity flickering over his features. Mason doesn’t even spare the man a sideways glance; he must know his fate rests solely in Zeth’s hands. He’s the one who decides whether Mason lives or dies. In the past, I know how Zeth would have handled this. He would never have listened to the woman he was sleeping with. He would have shut down the threat without a second thought and moved on to deal with Lowell herself, and there would have been no debate. Things are different now, though. After everything we’ve been through, Zeth knows I’m not just some naïve, uninformed girl that makes decisions on a whim, without any real thought.  
    He cracks his index finger knuckle, followed by his middle finger and then he stops. “Fine.”
    That’s all he says. I’m waiting for him to follow up his one word response with a list of caveats, as well as a series of threats that would make even the most hardened criminal’s hair stand on end. He leaves it at that, though. He wants to go; I can see how badly he wants to smash his fist into something right now, and he’s undoubtedly feeling robbed of the opportunity. Mason slowly, cautiously gets to his feet. “So I’m good to go?”
    Zeth grunts. He jerks his head toward the door, his face stony and unimpressed. “You’d better, before I change my fucking mind.”
    Animals, unsure whether it’s safer to run or safer to flee, will often freeze in place, not breathing, unbelieving, while they try to decide what their best course of action is. Mason is just like one of those animals, a rabbit in the headlights, as he no doubt tries to figure out if Zeth means what he’s saying or not. The stupid kid should be dashing for the door, and instead he’s standing in the middle of the room with his shoulders hunched, glancing from one person to the next.  
    “Are you waiting for an Uber?” Michael asks. “If you are, might I suggest you wait outside on the street? Maybe a few blocks from here? We have a slight health and safety issue here right now. And by that, I mean lingering here any longer than you need to is very bad for your health and your safety.”
    “Understood.” Mason ducks out of the room and heads to the exit of the warehouse, not wasting another second. Zeth stares at the wall again. He flinches when the sound of the sliding metal door slams home, sending clanging echoes through the warehouse.
    “I swear I’ll never understand why we just let that happen,” he comments. “At some point that kid is ending up in a shallow grave at the side of the road. It’s inevitable. He has no idea how this world works. Why it works the way it does.”
    “He shouldn’t have to. He should just be able to take care of his family, and go to work. Instead, he has to deal with Denise Lowell, and all because he’s an easy target. She knows he has access to you, and she knows she can manipulate him. Do you think that’s fair?”
    Zeth moves subtly, angling his body so that his torso and his hips are facing me. He won’t look me in the eye, though. At least he doesn’t, until he’s just about to vanish through the doorway, into the bowels of the house. “Nothing about life is fair, Sloane. If it were, serial killers and rapists would be riddled with ball cancer and charity workers would be winning the fucking lottery every week. Mason’s lucky. If I was Charlie Holsan, there’s no way he’d have just walked out of here in tact. He’d have had his throat slit and two guys would be in the process of burning off his fingerprints and pulling his fucking molars out of his head.” He doesn’t hang back to see what I might have to say to this. He storms off, out of