Master of his heart (Max and Brielle)

The woman hustling behind him was keeping up, not missing a beat. But when they both turned the corner, they froze, eyes widening at the grisly sight before them.

Mason's pupils contracted sharply as he recognized the figure sprawled on the ground-it was Everett. He darted forward, yanking the knife out of Victoria's grip in one swift motion. But she was beyond reason, feral without the blade, and sank her teeth into Everett's

cheek.

"Die! How dare you betray me! Die!"

In one swift move, Mason struck the back of Victoria's neck, knocking her out. He then turned his attention to Tiffanie, who was huddled in a corner, screaming and covering her ears. He ordered the woman behind him to call the cops and strode over to scoop Tiffanie into his arms.

"It's okay now, it's okay," he murmured, trying to soothe her.

Tiffanie fought with all her might, her nails broken and her fingers smeared with blood. Mason held her tight, feeling her whole body tremble, her legs kicking out, her eyes wide and unfocused, seeing nothing but the crimson splashes of blood in her mind. She couldn't string together a single sentence, only scream and struggle. When she finally exhausted herself, she passed out cold.

By the time the police and paramedics arrived, Everett was declared dead, and Victoria, already known to have mental health issues, was determined to have committed the act during a psychotic break. They decided to commit her.

Mason's mind was a mess. He couldn't wrap his head around how things had spiraled so far out of control. They ended up at the hospital where Lewis worked, and once again, it was Lewis who treated Tiffanie.

Her face was swollen, the marks on her neck even worse, and she seemed to have suffered more trauma. She was sweating and shivering, even in her sleep.

"Lewis, take a look," Mason's voice trembled. He dared not come any closer.

Tiffanie must have fought like hell. There was a long gash on her arm, and one of her fingers was broken, hanging limply. Just looking at it hurt.

Mason watched Lewis splint her broken finger and treat her wounds. He felt an itch in his throat, a craving for a cigarette, but remembered he was in a hospital where smoking was a no-go.

He couldn't forget that when he first carried Tiffanie in, her pants had been taken off. Who did that?

His hand trembled slightly at his side, his chest aching so much he could barely speak. Tiffanie, traumatized by everything, screamed in her sleep, covering her ears and curling into a ball on the bed. Mason stayed by her side for two nights until she finally woke up. Even then, she just sat on the bed, hugging her arms, flinching at the slightest touch, her eyes wide with terror.

After several failed attempts to calm her, Lewis decided to give her a sedative.

Mason hadn't slept for two days and

nights, his mind a chaotic mess. Lewis took one look at him and said, "I'll have bed brought in here for you. Get some rest. The sedative will help her sleep through the night. We don't want you passing out when she wakes up."

Mason didn't respond, but even lying in the bed, sleep wouldn't come.

Were all of Tiffanie's injuries Everett's doing? Had it always been him? If she'd grown up in Beaconsfield all these years, what else had Everett done to her?

The thought of her pants being

removed filled Mason with a burning rage. But Everett was dead, killed by Victoria, who was now locked away in a psychiatric hospital. Their toxic mess had dragged innocent people down with them.

Lying in bed, Mason couldn't hold back his tears. Why drag innocent people into their nightmare? What did Tiffanie ever do to deserve this? Her only mistake was being born to Victoria, and even that wasn't her choice.

Lewis was about to enter to change Tiffanie's dressings when he heard Mason's muffled sobs. He paused, thought for a moment, and then stepped away, deciding to give them some space.