83
Adrian's POV
The dungeon walls were as cold and unyielding as Mason's heart. I sat in the corner of my cell, staring at the faint flicker of a torch on the far wall. It was funny—well, not funny ha-ha, but funny in the sense that it felt like some cruel cosmic joke—that I'd been reduced to this. Me, Adrian, who had once commanded the respect of my pack, now sitting in the dark, plotting like a rat trapped in a maze.
But Mason had gone too far this time. A bomb. A freaking bomb.
How the hell had he done it?
The idea gnawed at my mind like an itch I couldn't scratch. Implanting a bomb in Bethany without anyone knowing? It wasn't just cruel; it was genius-level diabolical. And as much as I hated the bastard, I had to admit it—Mason didn't just play the game; he rewrote the damn rulebook.