Chapter 125

Mason POV

Watching King work usually makes me a bit ill. The way he seems to find a rhythm in destruction, precision in pain—it’s more than most people can stomach. But tonight, as I stand in the dim light of the garage, I see something else.

It’s not just brutality. It’s art, if you can call it that. Every shallow slice he carves into Phillips’ chest, every muffled scream and whimper, feels deliberate, like King’s sketching a portrait of suffering.

And as fucked-up as it may be, I can’t look away.

Gray leans against the wall, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “Fuck,” he mutters, pinning me with a knowing look. “Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”

I clench my jaw beneath my mask, staying silent. Maybe a few months ago, I would’ve been afraid of a fate like this, but being with Alyssa has forged a bond between us that’s stronger than ever.

However, with the way Gray punched Isaac in the face and crushed Phillips’ balls like i