Page 58 of Z For Butterfly Man
“Stop scaring her, you son of a bitch!” Shane wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Baby, I know you scared. He maybe threatened ya, told ya to keep it hush hush. But y’ safe now. You can tell.”
“I never threatened or touched her!” Mason fumes. “Shane, you fucking liar—”
“Enough bullshit!” Prez interrupts, and I feel sick to my stomach. “Reagan.” He steps closer, his voice gentler now. “You ain’t in no trouble. No one is gonna hurt ya. Just wanna know what happened. Is it true? You and Mason are together? Is he your boyfriend?”
My mouth opens and closes. No words come out. I just shake my head.
“So what happened between the two of ya? He touched ya? You wanted him to or…?”
Tears blur my vision. The urge to vomit is getting stronger. I look at Shane with a plea.Please don’t make me do this.
“She maybe too scared to answer, but I got proof.” Shane pulls out a phone and flips it open. He presses the right and left arrows multiple times. “Look at this shit.”
He holds it up for Prez to see.
It’s me. In the red bikini Shane bought me. Posing on the beach, smiling at the camera. The photos he took on my fourteenth birthday. But they’re not on Shane’s phone anymore. They’re on Mason’s.
“The fuck is that?” Prez grabs the phone, scrolling through the images. His face darkens. “Jesus Christ.”
“I found them this morning.” Shane shakes with manufactured rage. “Went through his phone when he was in the shower. That sick fuck been taking pictures of her, keeping them for his fucked-up funtime shit.”
Prez shoves the phone in Mason’s face. “You sick fuck.”
“That’s not—” Mason lunges forward, but the enforcers grab him and slam him back against the wall. “I don’t have those photos! I never took those!”
“Check the rest of the photos on his phone, Prez. There’s plenty where that came from, other girls, too, from school.” Shane darts a daring glance at Mason. “You didn’t take those, too?”
“Shane, you set me up to save your own ass, you fucking—”
"Enough!" Prez roars.
“Reagan, please.” Mason’s voice breaks. “You know I didn’t do this. I tried to warn you. You know it was—”
“Shut him up,” Prez snaps.
One of the enforcers punches Mason in the gut. He doubles over, gasping.
The room goes silent. Mason’s chest heaves, his eyes locked on Shane and me with pure hatred.
Shane turns to me. His hands cup my face, gentle, loving, the way they always do when we’re alone. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispers, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Told ya I’d take care of it. Promised I’d protect ya.”
He’s lying. He’s lying to everyone, me included. He’s not protecting me. He’s protecting himself.
He took those photos. He gave me that swimsuit. He kissed me on that beach and told me I was beautiful. And now he’s giving it all to Mason. Then he’s asking me to play along, to lie. To send Mason—innocent, trying-to-warn-me Mason—to whatever hell the club has planned for him. All to save himself.
“Reagan.” Shane’s thumb brushes my cheek, wiping away a tear that has fallen against my will. “Baby girl, look at me.”
I look into those blue eyes that have been my salvation, my only source of safety and love for nearly a year. And I see a stranger.
“Tell them,” he says softly. “Tell them what Mason did to you so we can protect you.”
My heart shatters. “I… I can’t…”
Shane’s grip on my face subtly tightens. A warning. A reminder. This is the only way we stay together. The only way I don’t go to jail. The only way we don’t lose everything.
“Take your time, sweetheart,” Prez says. “We know this is hard.”
“Mason… I…” I’m sorry.
