Ⅸ. ᴇᴘɪʟᴏɢᴜᴇ

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Mason swaggered down the patterned corridor, eyes darting side to side as he peered into each adjoining area and open bedroom door in search of the reason for his visit.

Charm had always come naturally to the Urie boys, and the assassin had had no trouble in convincing the pretty receptionist to let him through – despite it not being visiting hours.

Unfortunately, he hadn't thought to ask for directions, and he now found himself wandering aimlessly through the building.

A couple of sun rays danced across the tiles a couple of feet in front of him, alerting him to the fact that the outside sitting area was approaching.

His stride quickened; he was certain that that was were he needed to be. Rounding the corner, he was met with an antique oak and glass door.

Taking a moment to make sure that he wasn't wasting his time, he bent down and peered through one of the glass sections of the door.

His eyes latched onto her immediately – as if by instinct – and he scanned her from head to toe, mind processing all of the minute details so as to know exactly what to expect when he stepped outside.

After all, it had been decades since he'd been in Vegas. Things had changed.

Shehad changed.

Clenching his jaw, he exhaled softly and gripped the doorknob, twisting. The fresh air and sunshine was a welcome contrast to the mustiness of the corridors, and he took a moment to absorb some of it before starting across the lawn.

His feet moved out of their own accord and before he knew it, he was right behind her. She hadn't sensed him yet, and he took advantage of the fact, taking a moment to compose himself before reaching out to touch her.

The moment his fingers curled around her shoulder, she straightened. She knew exactly who it was.

For Mason, there was no turning back now.

"Hi, mom."

ʙʀᴇɴᴅᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ (ʏ/ɴ) ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ɪɴ ʙᴏᴅʏɢᴜᴀʀᴅ ɪᴠ: ᴠᴇɢᴀs ʟɪɢʜᴛs

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