Page 11 of His Fury

“And does Patrick know you know?”

“I called him.” When Rye swore, I turned to look at him. “What?”

“You played that card too early,” he said as he moved me away from the driver’s door. “I’ll drive. You’re not thinking straight.” He tapped the side of his head. “Cool head, Zayn. Lose it when you’ve got her back.”

I inhaled loudly through my nose, sucking my teeth as the weight of his words settled like lead in my chest. “I’m going to kill him.”

“No problem.” Rye didn’t even flinch as he got into the SUV. “But first, think with your head, not your heart. Don’t be a fucking pussy.”

A storm was brewing beneath my skin, slow and rolling, dark and inevitable.

He had her.

He had Isla.

I flexed my hands, curling them into fists before forcing them open again. Rye was right. I couldn’t lose my temper—not yet. Not until I had something to break.

Someoneto break.

“I’ll pay him,” I told Rye as I walked around the SUV, getting into the passenger side. “It’s another business transaction. Like any other.”

Rye nodded. “It’s not personal.”

It was very fucking personal.

“Did you know he kidnaps loved ones to get his debts paid?” I asked as I straightened my jacket.

“No, but then kidnapping doesn’t come up often in conversation.”

I laughed. Low and dark. Humorless.

“Do we wait for Julian?” Rye asked, turning the car on.

“If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll stay the fuck out of my way.”

“So, no. Got it.” Rye hesitated. “And…where are we going?”

“I don’t know.” I leaned back in the seat. “But I can’t sit and wait. Who would know where the fucker would take her?” I turned to look at Rye. “Vega might know.”

Rye nodded slowly. “Maybe. And where the fuck do we find him on a Thursday night?”

We shared a look. I unsnapped my seat belt and got out of the SUV. “The club.”

I knew Rye was right behind me, his heavy footsteps trailing mine, but I didn’t slow. I headed up the stairs to the lower-level club. Outside the very entrance where Julian had found out about Isla and me only a few weeks ago, I took a moment to breathe.

I needed to be calm.

Controlled.

They had my woman.

A muscle ticked above my jaw as I took another breath. No emotion. No fury. Not yet. That was how people got sloppy. That was how people got killed. And I wasn’t losing this fight before I even threw a punch.

But there was a part of me—a primal, possessive part—that screamed for blood. That part of me didn’t give a fuck about being careful. It didn’t care about patience or strategy. It wanted answers, violence, and revenge.

I cracked my neck, and then, with a slow, even breath, I walked into my kingdom. I saw people notice I was there, and I saw them turn away. Undisturbed. Unbothered that I was here. The atmosphere didn’t change.

I scanned the room as I moved to my corner table,absorbing everything at once. One or two looked away a fraction too quickly, like they knew something.

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