Chapter 04: Beneath the Surface
Mason adjusted the cuff of his shirt, taking a long, deliberate breath as he stood at the entrance to the club. The neon lights flickered above, casting shadows over the sidewalk, and a soft hum of music drifted out from behind the doors. Greystone’s most exclusive social club, the epitome of wealth and privilege, was both a sanctuary and a prison for the city’s most powerful figures.
He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing back the creeping doubt gnawing at him. He had done his homework; he knew the risks. Yet, standing here, looking at the glossy black door, the weight of what he was about to do seemed far heavier than anticipated. This wasn’t just about investigating Fox anymore—it was about diving into a world of corruption that could swallow him whole.
“Good evening,” the bouncer at the door greeted with a polite nod, his gaze lingering just long enough to appraise Mason’s appearance.
Mason kept his expression neutral, his voice steady. “I’m here to meet someone.”
The bouncer gave him a once-over, then nodded slowly, eyes narrowed. “Name?”
“Mason,” he said quickly, improvising. His heart raced, but he couldn’t afford to show it. The lie hung in the air, a thin thread connecting him to the lie he had crafted over the last several hours.
The bouncer hesitated for a moment, reaching for the clipboard in his hand, then finally waved Mason through. The air inside the club was thick with the scent of expensive cologne, cigars, and something faintly metallic, as though secrets were tangled in the very atmosphere. The heavy bass of the music reverberated through Mason’s chest, and his senses heightened as he stepped deeper into the belly of the beast.
The interior was as he expected—opulent, a gilded cage for the city’s most influential people. Expensive art adorned the walls, and crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, reflecting the soft light on polished marble floors. Low murmurings of conversation filled the space, punctuated by the clinking of glasses. Mason scanned the room quickly, looking for any sign of Fox, but there was nothing. Just people—too many people who knew too much.
He made his way to the bar, keeping his eyes trained on the crowd. The bartender, a woman with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense attitude, nodded as he approached.
“A drink?” she asked, her voice low and smooth, almost rehearsed.
Mason ordered something light—a whiskey on the rocks, though he wasn’t particularly thirsty. The glass was handed to him without question, and he took a sip, letting the burn of the alcohol settle in his stomach. His eyes darted around the room, not just for Fox, but for any signs of the shadowy dealings he suspected lurked beneath the club’s gilded exterior.
The bartender leaned forward slightly, her gaze intense as she wiped down the counter. “You’re not from around here, are you?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity.
Mason tilted his head, pretending to study the contents of his drink. “Just passing through.”
She raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Most people don’t ‘pass through’ this place. It’s a little too exclusive for tourists.”
He returned her smile with a faint one of his own, playing along. “Well, I guess I’m not most people.”
Her expression shifted subtly—more cautious now. She took a step back, still observing him, and Mason turned his attention back to the crowd, making sure to keep his body angled toward the room. He had learned over the years to blend in, to become a shadow in places like this. But he couldn’t afford to let his guard down. Not here, not now.
Mason noticed a few familiar faces scattered throughout the crowd. A couple of city council members in deep conversation with a few business magnates. A former judge from the criminal court, his face a little too red, too flushed for someone of his station. But there was no sign of Fox.
He was about to make his way deeper into the club when a voice broke through the noise, low and ominous.
“You’re not supposed to be here.”
Mason froze, his instincts kicking in. He turned slowly, his hand inching toward his jacket pocket where his gun rested. The voice came from behind him, from a tall man dressed in a sleek black suit. His face was partially obscured by the shadows, but Mason could tell he was trouble.
“Are you following me?” Mason asked, his voice calm but cold.
The man didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his lips curled into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t get in over your head.”
Mason studied him, a flicker of recognition sparking in the back of his mind. He couldn’t place the man’s face, but the vibe was unmistakable. He was no ordinary club security.
“Who are you?” Mason demanded, his tone now sharper, more authoritative.
The man’s smile faded. “Someone who knows when to make sure a problem disappears.”
Mason’s hand flexed by his side, itching for the control he was known for. He had to act fast. He knew this wasn’t just a warning. This was the beginning of something darker.
“I’m not looking for trouble,” Mason said, his voice low but firm, “but I’m not going to back down either.”
The man studied him for a moment longer, then nodded, almost as if Mason had passed some unseen test. “Stay out of Fox’s way, and you’ll be fine. But if you keep digging, you won’t be.” He turned on his heel, disappearing into the crowd without another word.
Mason stood frozen for a few beats, the warning still hanging in the air. This wasn’t a game anymore. Whatever Fox was involved in, it was dangerous. The people around him were playing for keeps, and Mason was suddenly acutely aware of the target on his back.
He couldn’t leave now—not with so many unanswered questions, not when he was so close to the truth. But Mason knew one thing: whoever was pulling the strings in this club was not someone he could afford to trust.
With resolve settling over him, Mason moved deeper into the crowd. His search for Fox was far from over. He wasn’t about to let a warning send him packing. He had a job to do, and no one, not even the shadows of this club, would stand in his way.
