The Master Psychic

chapter 3 - they hate me

The Jeep crunched up the gravel drive, the familiar outline of the house rising ahead. Mason parked near the porch, cutting the engine with a satisfied sigh.

"Alright, team effort again," he said, popping the trunk.

They all grabbed bags, arms straining as they carried the haul inside. Harper darted straight to the kitchen to start unloading onto the counters, humming as she arranged everything into neat piles. Sage followed, clutching her bags carefully, still quiet from the drive.

Mason made a second trip to the car, hauling in a load of heavier items. Finally, only one bag remained in the trunk—a light one, filled with bread and Harper's sunflowers. He reached for it, the gravel crunching under his boots.

Then he froze.

Two figures were walking up the driveway.

They weren't neighbors. Their pace was steady, purposeful, their silhouettes sharp against the afternoon light. Mason's jaw tightened instantly, his expression hardening into something Sage rarely saw on him: pure anger, laced with disgust.

The plastic handles of the grocery bag strained in his grip as he straightened, his shoulders tense. His eyes narrowed, tracking their every step closer.

Inside, Harper called from the kitchen, "Mason? That the last bag?"

But he didn't answer. He stood rooted in place, glaring down the driveway as if the ground itself had betrayed him.

Sage, coming back out onto the porch to help, noticed the change in his face. Her stomach dropped, fear prickling cold across her skin.

"Mason...?" she asked softly.

His gaze never left the two approaching figures.

"They shouldn't be here," he said flatly, voice low, as the anger in his eyes burned brighter.

The figures kept their steady approach, gravel grinding beneath their boots. Mason's grip on the grocery bag tightened until the plastic threatened to snap.

"Harper!" his voice thundered across the yard, sharp enough to make Sage flinch. "Take Sage inside. Now. Hide with her in the bedroom."

Sage's eyes widened. "Wait—what? Mason, I don't need to—"

"Do it!" Mason barked, the growl in his voice leaving no room for argument. It was the kind of tone Sage had only ever heard once before, years ago, and it made her stomach twist.

Before she could protest again, Harper rushed onto the porch, her face pale. She didn't hesitate—she caught Sage by the wrist and tugged hard. "Come on," she whispered, urgent.

"Harper, wait!" Sage tried to pull back, confusion and fear bubbling in her chest. "What's happening? Who are they—"

"Please, Sage," Harper hissed, tugging her harder. "Just listen this time."

The urgency in her voice, the sheer seriousness in Mason's eyes, froze Sage's protests. She let Harper drag her up the stairs and into the house, the front door slamming shut behind them. Their footsteps pounded down the hall, heading toward the bedroom, while outside the air seemed to thicken with tension.

Mason dropped the last grocery bag onto the porch boards, the sound dull and heavy. His fists curled at his sides as the two strangers stopped only ten feet away.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Mason's voice was low, edged with fire.

The taller figure stepped forward, his shadow cutting long across the gravel. His voice was low, rough with anger.

"We're here to get rid of the monster you're protecting."

Mason's entire body went rigid. His jaw clenched, a growl rumbling deep in his chest as he took a single step forward, meeting the man's glare head-on.

"She's not a monster," he snapped, the words like broken glass in his throat. "She's my sister."

The woman beside the man shifted uneasily, but said nothing. Her eyes flickered toward the house, toward the window where faint movement hinted at Sage being dragged out of sight.

Mason's hands curled into fists, his voice dropping to a dangerous snarl. "You don't get to call her that. You don't get to even look at her. Not after everything."

The man sneered. "You think keeping her hidden changes what she is? You think you can stop it?"

"I don't care what you think she is," Mason growled, fury vibrating in every word. "You don't have the right to come here. Not now. Not ever. You gave that up when you walked away."

His chest heaved as he spat the last words, eyes blazing with disgust. "Parents or not—you're never coming near her again."

For a moment, the driveway was silent except for the faint rustle of the trees. The two figures stared at him, their faces carved with anger and something else—something colder.

But Mason didn't flinch. He stood his ground, every muscle ready, the barrier between Sage and the people who'd abandoned her.

The woman finally stepped forward, her hands raised as though she meant to soothe the tension in the air. Her eyes softened, her voice laced with a trembling kind of sweetness that made Mason's skin crawl.

"Mason... my son," she said carefully, like she was speaking to a child. "You don't have to carry this weight anymore. Let us handle her. You know the burden Sage brings to everyone around her. You don't have to protect her from what she is."

Her tone was practiced, dripping with false care, every word meant to cut Sage down without her being there to hear it.

Mason's nostrils flared. "Don't you dare call me your son."

The woman tried to reach for his arm, her expression pleading. "Please. Just step aside. We'll make this right. You'll be free—"

Before she could finish, Mason shoved her back with a force that sent her stumbling hard onto the gravel. She hit the ground with a sharp gasp, palms scraping against the stones.

For a heartbeat, silence filled the air, broken only by the ragged sound of her breathing.

Then her face twisted—her mask of motherly care cracking, giving way to pure fury. She scrambled up to her knees, her eyes blazing as she spat, "How dare you?"

Mason towered over her, his chest heaving, his voice low and dangerous. "You don't get to walk in here and talk about burdens. Not when you abandoned her. Not when you abandoned us."

The woman's mouth tightened, her anger trembling on the edge of violence. The man at her side laid a hand on her shoulder, steadying her, though his glare at Mason promised this wasn't over.

Mason stood rigid, his chest rising and falling in sharp bursts, his eyes locked on the two people who dared to call themselves his parents. The woman had scrambled to her feet, brushing dirt from her hands, but the mask of false care was gone—replaced by raw anger. The man's stare was colder, sharper, but Mason didn't waver.

He took a step closer, his voice dropping into a growl that vibrated through the air.

"If either of you ever come back here..." His eyes burned with hatred, the kind that had been building for years. "You'll be leaving in a casket."

The words hung heavy in the silence, as solid and immovable as stone.

The woman's lips parted as though to argue, but the fire in Mason's gaze froze her in place. The man's hand tightened on her arm, pulling her back, his expression unreadable but edged with unease.

Without another word, they turned. Their retreat was brisk, their footsteps crunching across the gravel, faster and faster until they disappeared down the drive.

Mason stood there long after they were gone, fists clenched at his sides, the fury still burning through him. Only when the last echo of their presence vanished into the distance did he let out a long, shuddering breath.

He turned toward the house, toward the sister they had just called a monster, and the promise in his eyes hardened even more.

No one was ever going to take her from him. Not while he was still breathing