Page 103 of His Fury

The warehouse wascold and dimly lit. It was the kind of place designed to feel casual enough for a conversation yet dangerous enough to remind you who held the cards.

Why were the warehouses always half empty? Was it in some “How to Be a Bad Guy” manual?

I walked in alone.

Rye waited outside by the car, armed and pissed he couldn’t come in. But he didn’t stop me.

I needed him outside. I needed him to be separate for this. As separate as he could be. I needed this to be mine. I needed to let Rye see that I was still the same, and then he could stop fucking doubting me.

The man waiting was well known to me.

“Angelo,” I greeted him.

He was one of Valerio’s oldest lieutenants—but smarter, meaner, and far more loyal than some of his others. Angelo was the kind of man who smiled with his teeth and listened with half a mind on how he might kill you.

He leaned against the table, staring at his phone. He turned to me as I entered, gesturing towards the table. Two chairs. No visible weapons. I wasn’t a fool. You didn’t bring a gun to this conversation.

“McCabe.” He nodded. “I didn’t expect to see you like this.” He examined me, cold and clinical. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

“Not quiet. Focused.”

He grinned. “Staying focused can get you killed in this business. You’ve got to stay loose. Relaxed.”

I’d seen his idea of cutting loose, but it wasn’t in the same league as my own idea of being relaxed.

“Speaking of loose…I have a loose end,” I told him. It was clear and concise. “Delaney thinks he has one over me.” I hated that I had to say this. “And he has leverage.”

Angelo’s gaze sharpened. “Leverage?”

“Files, receipts. Trussed-up ledgers.” I didn’t back downfrom the man's stare across from me. “I received a copy from a…an acquaintance. There could be more.”

“This bothers Mr. Ferraro how?”

“Only Pyramid is mentioned, along with one other.”

Angelo shot me a look of disgust. “You have a ledger of business transactions?”

I heard the contempt. I deserved it. This was a careless mistake—one I hadn’t known I was making. Julian’s knife of betrayal plunged a little deeper into my back.

“I need”—I noted the look Angelo gave me—“I would appreciate assistance in resolving this problem.”

Angelo remained still as he watched me. “You mentioned one other. Who?”

I was as unmoving as he was, leveling my gaze at him. “There’s a girl.”

That captured his attention. One brow arched. “Ah. I see.” He tsked. “A woman always complicates things.”

“I want the word out andunderstoodthat she is not to be touched, watched, leveraged or even fucking mentioned in a conversation.”

Angelo tilted his head as he watched me. “I assume she already has been?”

“Delayney made a mistake.” My voice was flat, cold, and deadly. “I don’t let mistakes live.”

He offered a slow, contemplative smile. “You’re standing up to claim her?”

The words struck like a blade to the ribs—because that’s precisely what this was. Outdated bullshit that still governed the world I lived in.

Blood. Claims. Agreements.

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