Chapter 28 Ghosts Of Grace

• Mason's eyes yanked open to harsh morning light streaming through floor-to-ceiling bulletproofed windows. His shoulder throbbed with each heartbeat, a steady reminder of last night's firefight. Beside Mason's king-sized bed lay a bloody steel plate - the bullet that had tried to claim his life.
• "Some guardian angel you got there, Rivers," Mason shifted, testing the limits of his bandaged shoulder. The movement sent lightning bolts of pain down his arm, but he'd had worse. Construction work wasn't exactly gentle on the body. Though these days, his calluses were getting soft, replaced by the kind of hands that signed death warrants instead of timecards.
• The crucifix on his wall caught his eye. Sister Agnes's voice rang in his head, clear as Sunday bells: "Remember, bambinos, every choice carves your soul."