Page 233 of Rogue Riders Duet

“No,” I answer for him. “He didn’t fucking do it.”

Mason’s arm brushes against mine as he steps out from behind me. He gives me this look, equal parts gratitude and don’t speak for me, but he keeps close.

“No.” His voice is steady despite the subtle tremor in his hands. “I did not rape her.”

“She lied,” Mason’s dad says, speaking up for the first time. “We always thought it was for clout, but now…” He glances at Alaina, then Dane. “Now we know why.”

“But why didn’t you say anything?” Piper asks, her gaze fixed on Mason. “Why let her ruin you?”

Mason swallows roughly. “I did, at first. I told everyone it was a lie, but it only made things worse, since no one believed me, and then…” He shrugs, but everything about him is tight, coiled to snap. “I just stopped. I realized that fighting it didn’t matter, and defending myself made me look worse. I didn’t want to be the reason people stopped believing real victims. So I just let it happen.”

His voice cracks on the last word, and Jim comes to Mason’s side and puts a hand on Mason’s shoulder, but Mason shrugs it off like the comfort burns. He turns his head from the room, blinking too fast. His eyes, glistening with tears, flick to mine, and then widen in panic.

He’s going to bolt.

This time, I follow him.

By the time he turns toward the exit, I’m already at his side, catching his elbow before he can escape. He doesn’t fight me as I steer him down the hall and pull him into my room.

He’s breathing hard when the door shuts behind us, sounding on the brink of a panic attack.

“Hey.” I’m still holding his elbow, squeezing gently before letting go. “Hey, look at me.”

He does, and his eyes are glassy, his bottom lip trembling.

Fuck. I want to bite that lip, just a little, but now is not the time, because what I really want to do is punch a wall and then kiss him better.

“It’s fine,” I murmur. “It’s just me. You can let it out.”

He shakes his head once, stubborn to the end, but the tear escapes anyway, rolling down that sharp cheekbone like it’s running from something.

Fuck, that’s the last straw.

I grab his arms and pull him into me, banding my arms around him tightly.

He’s stiff as a board, but I don’t let go, just wrap him up tighter, locking him against me like I can physically hold him together.

Slowly, so fucking slowly, he gives in, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his face perfectly into the crook of my neck.

He fits there as if that spot was made for him.

His sobs are silent at first, almost choked, before his whole body starts to shake. I just hold him tighter, murmuring comforting words I’m not even sure are in English, while my hands stroke his back. I press my cheek to the top of his head and thread my fingers through his hair, petting him and taking a deep breath while his tears soak into me.

Pine, pain, and Mason-fucking-Payne.

I hate this, hate how bad it hurts knowing what he’s been carrying. Knowing I added weight to that pile. I laughed with the rest of them, shunned him when he needed someone.

Merde.

This is torture.

And I deserve it.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper into his ear, my lips brushing his skin. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

He shakes his head, voice muffled in my neck. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

I grin and keep petting him. “True, but I’ve always been one. And you like it.”