Rupert, Grayson, and Gabriel swiftly made their way through the dimly lit corridors, heading to the music room on the far side of the school where Alison was being interrogated by Cora.
"How the hell did Mason manage to get out of that police car, especially with handcuffs on?" Gabriel's voice held a note of frustration, mirroring Grayson's own burning curiosity.
"I'm just as baffled as you are, Gabriel." Rupert shook his head, wiping away sweat from his forehead. "The only thing I'm certain of is that he's still somewhere inside Harvard grounds, more specifically, within the building."
Grayson, keeping his eyes on Rupert, pursued the matter further. "Where were you when Mason escaped?"
Rupert glanced back at Grayson and then received a nod from Gabriel, signalling his approval to answer. "I was talking with Alison." Rupert continued leading them toward the music room, speaking as he walked. "She was the one who alerted me about Mason."
There was a moment of silence as they processed this information, their footsteps the only sound breaking the stillness of the night.
Gabriel, though he might have already guessed the answer, couldn't resist asking, "What do you mean?"
"You know that better than I do," Rupert replied, offering a knowing smile as they ascended a flight of stairs. "Alison was able to recognize who you were, Gabriel, or at least some aspects of your life when you were in that dark taxi on your way to Harvard. So, the fact that she could predict that Mason wouldn't give up his entire future so easily shouldn't really come as a surprise to any of us."
As they approached the music room, the soft strains of a piano could be heard, echoing through the hallway.
Rupert paused at the door, his hand hovering over the handle, and turned to Gabriel and Grayson, his eyes a mix of concern and anticipation.
"She's been playing that same piece ever since I arrived," Rupert said, his voice barely audible above the music, but his frustration was palpable.
"You stay here," Gabriel instructed Grayson firmly. Before Grayson could voice any objections, both Rupert and Gabriel slipped inside the room.
Grayson could feel a throbbing nerve on his neck, his jaw clenched tightly as he obediently followed instructions. He leaned against the wall, folded his hands in front of him, and focused intently on the hushed voices.
In the muffled voices, Grayson heard Gabriel calling Alison's name, sounding frustrated. But Grayson couldn't hear Alison respond until the music suddenly stopped playing.
"She's something else, isn't she?" Grayson could hear Rupert say.
"Indeed she is." That was Cora.
"Where's Grayson?" Alison finally spoke, her voice sounded on edge.
Grayson pressed his hand against the door, leaning into it with his forehead resting against the unforgiving wood. Then, a jarring screech cut through the silence, causing Grayson to instinctively flinch. It was followed by Alison's voice, its tone hard and demanding.
"Where's Grayson?" she demanded to know, her words echoing through the closed door.
"Alison." Grayson could hear Rupert say cautiously, "Grayson's safe, but Maso-"
"Where. Is. Grayson," she repeated, her demand cut through Rupert's words like a knife.
Grayson knew he should push open the door, get inside, but he didn't. Instead, he stayed outside and continued to listen.
"Grayson is where he should be, Alison, safe and sound." Grayson couldn't see Gabriel's expression, but he could imagine the sternness in his features.
"Grayson," Alison began, her tone icy, "is exactly where he shouldn't be." Just as Gabriel appeared ready to respond, Alison silence him. "Don't think for a second that you can manipulate me with your clever phrases," she warned him. "I'll ask again. Where. Is. Grayson."
Grayson couldn't keep lurking outside that door any longer. Just as he was about to crack it open, a peculiar sound drifted up from below.
Someone was humming.
His Hawthorne instincts kicked in, like a sixth sense, but he hesitated. Grayson knew he should be beside Alison, especially in such a critical moment. Yet, ignoring the humming was impossible. To most, it might seem like an itch Grayson needed to scratch, but for a Hawthorne, it was like a siren's call, drawing him toward potential disaster.
Grayson made up his mind to track down the source of the humming, leaving the music room in his wake. He descended the dimly lit stairs, each step he took brought him closer to the source of the noises. Then, just as he thought he had it, it faded away into the silence.
Grayson paused on the last step, straining to listen for the humming again, but something unexpected caught his ear instead.
It was the sound of multiple people moving about, their hushed voices carrying up the stairwell. Ignoring the humming for now, he descended to the ground floor, staying concealed in the shadows, straining to listen to the whispered conversation.
"...shouldn't be here," one voice murmured.
"I know, but we have to find him," another responded.
Grayson's curiosity got the better of him, and he risked a swift, quick peek. It was a group of cops, no doubt searching for Mason. They exchanged more hushed words before dispersing into different rooms. He stayed hidden in the shadows, letting the police officers move past him, their voices and footsteps gradually faded away down the corridor.
Just as Grayson stepped out from his hiding spot, he heard it, the humming, coming from the far end of the corridor.
It was a low sound similar to the mournful howl of a wolf.
Quietly and cautiously, Grayson made his way in the direction of the humming, passing through the corridor and heading towards the library.
The library's door was slightly ajar, allowing a thin sliver of light to escape into the corridor. As Grayson pushed the door open just enough to slip inside, he saw him.
Mason sat alone at a table, his fingers tracing over the edge of a book as he continued to hum. His eyes were distant, lost in thought, and he seemed completely absorbed in his own world.
Grayson's footsteps, though light, seemed to echo loudly in the eerie silence of the library as he neared Mason. "You shouldn't be here," Grayson spoke, his voice low and cautious.
Mason's humming stopped abruptly, and he slowly raised his head to meet Grayson's gaze. Weariness clouded his brown eyes, turning them into deep pools of darkness under the dim light. "You shouldn't be here," Mason replied, his voice sounding strangely calm.
"It won't be long before Alison and the police come for you," Grayson shot back.
Mason sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly as he closed the book gently. "You see, this book," he said, lifting it and weaving it in the air. "I wrote it myself. It happens to be the same collection of papers I dropped when I first met Alison."
Mason's gaze dropped to the book in his hands, and he traced his fingers over the leather cover.
"The book tells the story of a soldier, a young man who was forced into the army because his father believed he was good for nothing," Mason started. "He was told that if he couldn't provide for his family, he should provide for his country."
Mason tossed the book to Grayson, who deftly snatched it from the air.
Grayson flipped through the pages until he reached the back of the book. To his surprise, Mason had not only credited Alison as his editor but attributed everything to her. He even dedicated a page or two in acknowledgment of her contributions.
"The soldier hated his family, except for one person— his little brother," Mason continued. "The soldier wrote a letter to his little brother once a week for three long years, while his little brother wrote to him every single day. His little brother would write how their mother had divorced, both parents had remarried, and how his new wealthy stepfather had seemingly solved all their problems." Mason paused, taking in a shaky breath. "The little brother one day wrote pleading with his soldier brother to return, and they made a vow to meet on the younger brother's birthday."
Grayson listened intently and noticed Mason's voice had grew softer as he reached the ending of the story. "The little brother waited on that fateful day, from dawn till dusk, counting the minutes, the hours, until the next day rose, and the soldier never came."
A heavy silence hung in the room. Grayson counted a full minute before speaking. "You're the little brother," he realized.
Mason looked up, meeting Grayson's gaze once more. Without warning, his calm demeanour shattered like glass, replaced by sudden rage.
Grayson spotted Mason's punch and dodged it, then swiftly crouched and swept Mason's legs from under him, causing him to stumble and fall. Mason quickly got back up and lunged at Grayson, sending them both crashing into a bookshelf.
The noise was deafening, and Grayson knew it wouldn't be long before others arrived. Mason pinned Grayson down and aimed for his jaw, but Grayson shielded his face with his hands, reducing the impact.
"He passed away, just a few days after my birthday. An accident, they said," Mason spat out between punches. "Since then, Alison has been my family. My everything. My something!"
Grayson lay there, absorbing Mason's relentless blows, protecting his face as much as possible. Mason's punches continued until one landed on Grayson's jaw, sending pain surging through him. But he refused to give in.
"You're nothing to Alison!" Grayson spat, narrowly evading Mason's attack and using his momentum to slam him into a nearby wall. Mason grunted in pain, momentarily winded.
"You're not the only one who's lost someone, Mason. Alison lost both her parents to suicide. She lost a brother, whom you killed, and watched him die in her arms. William is in a coma, on the brink of death, and I doubt Alison even knows!" Grayson shouted.
Mason's punches slowed, his rage replaced by a haunted expression. Grayson seized the moment, landing a solid blow to his side followed by a crushing uppercut to the jaw. Mason staggered backward, blood trickling from a split lip.
"You think you're the only one who cares about her?" Grayson's voice was resolute. At this moment, Grayson knew that Mason's attack on Grayson was driven by a need to release his pent-up anger, and who better to bear the brunt of it than Grayson himself? Just like Hudson, Gabriel, and Mason, they all knew that Grayson was the end. As Hudson liked to say, Grayson was the wrench that could unscrew them all. Or as Alison put it, she saw Grayson as the king in their chess game, and guarding him would lead to checkmate against Mason, the opposing king. And now, it was Grayson's moment to bring an end to the game.
Grayson held Mason by his collar, and with all his strength, pinned him against the wall, his grip unrelenting as he stared into Mason's bloodshot, desperate eyes. "You knew what you were doing would hurt her, yet that didn't stop you. So if hurting her didn't hurt you-"
With an unexpected surge, Mason twisted free from Grayson's grasp, pinning him to the floor with a heavy thud.
"I've torn her life apart," he said with self-loathing. "I've taken away everything she held dear. And the worst part is, I did it willingly, willingly because I thought it would bring me some kind of twisted satisfaction, some sort of closure for the pain I've endured."
Mason's shoulders sagged, his fists slowly unclenched. "It's the worst feeling when you realize you're the villain in your own story," Mason whispered. "And I can't let Alison go, Grayson, because she's the only thing left that reminds me of the person I used to be. The person I should have been. And she was all I ever needed, and I am everything she needed. We both don't need anyone else; I needed her to see that." The fight seemed to drain out of him, leaving behind a hollow shell of a man. "I knew I was falling for her, deeper and deeper, even though she didn't feel the same way. So I dragged her down with me..."
Grayson looked at Mason, feeling sympathy for him despite everything. Mason had faced hardships, but that was no excuse for dragging Alison into it. She'd weathered storms that would crush most people, Grayson included, and she'd done it alone. She didn't lean on anyone, and she certainly wasn't reliant on her family. Mason had used Alison as a lifeboat in a sinking ship. There was only one thing he could do to make amends.
"You have to let her go, Mason," Grayson said, his voice softer now. For a moment, Mason's eyes flickered with a glimmer of realization, a fleeting acknowledgment of the truth in Grayson's words. But then, the darkness within him resurfaced.
"I can't let her go," Mason muttered, his voice trembling with desperation. "If I do, it'll all fall apart. I'll be in jail, I'll lose my wealth, my fame..."
Mason's breaths came in ragged gasps, and he stared into Grayson's eyes, searching for something, perhaps a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos that had consumed him. "I've lost everything, and I won't let her be taken from me too."
In that moment, Grayson saw not just a dangerous adversary, but a broken soul searching for a way back. "You have to let her go, Mason," Grayson repeated. "You're not just losing Alison. You're losing yourself. Letting her go might not solve everything, but it's a start." Grayson held Mason's gaze. Tears welled up in Mason's eyes, and he blinked them away, struggling to maintain his composure.
"How?" Mason's fists finally dropped, and he collapsed beside Grayson, his shoulders trembling with the weight of his emotions. "I... I don't want to let her go," he admitted, his voice filled with sincerity. "But how do I do it? Where do I even begin?"
"You can start by getting off Grayson."
Grayson turned his head to see Alison standing by the library door. Behind her stood Rupert, Cora, and Gabriel, their faces a mix of concern and confusion.
Mason pushed himself off Grayson, his shoulders slumped, and he sank to the ground, his hands covering his face. He didn't sob; instead, his body seemed to shake with the weight of his emotions.
Grayson slowly pushed himself up, his body aching. As he regained his footing, Alison approached them. She positioned herself between Grayson and Mason, crouched down, and gently took Mason's bloodied and bruised hands in her own.
Mason's tears flowed freely, mingling with the sweat and dirt on his face. His eyes, once filled with anger, now mirrored a deep sense of regret.
Alison didn't utter a word as she kept her gaze on Mason. Grayson observed their silent connection, understanding that words weren't needed.
Then, unexpectedly, Mason closed his eyes and pulled his hands away from Alison's grasp. He rose, tears staining his cheeks, and wiped them away with a determined swipe. With a sense of purpose, he walked toward Rupert, a silent plea in his eyes.
Without a word, Mason brought his hands together, offering them to Rupert. "This time, wait for the click," Mason advised.
Rupert, clearly bemused, arched an eyebrow in response. He took the handcuffs and carefully secured them around Mason's wrists, ensuring they were properly aligned until...
Click.