Butter knife

Despite not being together for that long, Mason and Nico formed a routine, something that Mason never bothered with before. Why make sure he would go to bed before midnight when nothing was preventing him from sleeping in? He didn’t mind the small structural resemblance to his life; in some ways, he welcomed it.

Since his call with Riggs, there hadn't been any update, and no updates only worked against him. It put him more on edge and suspicious of everything, something he never had to deal with, not even during his years of service.

It got to a point where he always felt he was being watched. He couldn’t tell how much of that feeling was real or fear that something or someone would harm him. No, not him. Mason always knew what he was getting into when he decided to work as an assassin for the rich. It was fear of what could happen to Nico because of his choices.

Mason was avoiding going out unless strictly necessary because any strange noise made him reach for the dagger he kept hidden on his waist. Even at home, the curtains were drawn all the time, and he would check the outside several times a day. Nico picked up some of his habits and tried even to keep a knife in his pocket, but Mason caught him in the act.

"You can't carry a knife. You will get hurt," said Mason, putting the knife away and making sure no other sharp object was in reach. The toddler, with tears in his eyes, pointed to Mason's hidden dagger at his waist. "This is different; it's for protection. You don't need it because I'm protecting you." Nico wasn't convinced and pointed at a small knife Mason carried in his ankle. "That's for protection too." Nico pouted and continued with the attitude through the rest of the day until the next day, except when he woke up in the morning, he forgot about it for a moment and smiled.

Against his better judgment, Mason grabbed a butter knife and crouched in front of Nico. "Here, you can have this. You are too young to carry anything sharper than this." Nico held the knife, his eyes big and curious for a long time as a tinge of red took his cheeks, before he clenched it like it was something precious.

Mason chuckled, watching Nico try to put the knife on his ankle, and when that didn't work, he left it in his pocket, until a text from Riggs stole his attention. It only gave him a time of day, and he knew Riggs would come directly to his house, and likely stay for dinner.

Against his wishes, Mason left the house in the middle of the day for groceries, and the second he stepped out of the building, the feeling that they were being followed washed over him. That sensation only got worse when he noticed a grey car, old and dented in places, pass by them and park a good distance away from the supermarket.

Normally he wouldn't consider it important enough to even register the car, but something about it made him think back on the day he received the business card. A shiver ran through his spine as he realised he had seen that same car as he waited to hail a taxi home that day.

It couldn’t be a coincidence.

On the way back, the car was still parked in the same spot, and soon after, it followed the path Mason usually took home, and it stopped just out of sight. Instead of going that way, Mason took a turn opposite his home, going the big way around, increasing his pace as he took more turns in alleys cars couldn’t go through, because he needed to confirm how many people besides the car were following them. Soon, Mason had counted at least three people on foot trailing after them.

Closer to the apartment building, Mason saw the car driving past and knew that someone would follow, so he sped through, holding Nico’s hand closely. Despite his feet dashing through the carpeted floor, it felt like a lifetime until they reached home. He locked the door behind him and raked his hands through his hair, his eyes jumping from side to side as he dashed to the closed curtains and peeked to see the grey car in front of the building.

"Fuck," he muttered as he walked around, gathering his thoughts. He couldn't stay there anymore; he had to leave and find some place to lay low.

Three loud thumps sounded at the door, and with it, his muscles froze, eyeing the door. Nico, who hadn't moved since they got home, observing Mason panic, surprised by the sound, dashed to his side and hid behind his legs. Another wave of bile rose to Mason's mouth, watching his actions put the child in danger. 

More thumps sounded at the door, louder and harder, and Mason picked up Nico in his arms, dashing to the bedroom, locking the door, and grabbing a backpack at the back of the closet. When he first moved in, he had checked the escape routes and had precautions in case he had to flee on the spot, but peaceful times led to complacency, and besides the backpack with a couple of knives and an emergency kit, he didn't have anything else prepared. 

He opened the window, hearing the traffic eight stories down and turned to face Nico. "Hold on to me and don't let go for nothing, unless I tell you to," said Mason, his voice low but firm. He waited for Nico to nod before speaking again. "Keep your eyes closed, unless I tell you it's okay. And be as silent as you can." Tears pooled in Nico's eyes and fell as he nodded. 

Mason held him close and used the backpack strap to fasten him to his torso. "You are safe. They won't catch us." Nico's arms tightened around his neck, and he patted the little back as the distinct sound of his front door being broken reverberated through the apartment.