Page 117 of His Fury

“And the people involved?”

“Clean hands only. No one new. I want anyone we’re not sure of kept the fuck away from this.”

Rye nodded once.

“And while we’re discussing loyalty,” I added, “I put someone on Julian.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

“He’s used me for the last time,” I said. “He used her.”

“You think he’s working with Delaney?”

“No. But if anyone knows my pressure points, it’s Julian.”

Rye exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Always knew he was a rat.”

“He’s a liability, yet he cares for her. I don’t want Isla getting caught in the fallout when he burns.” I met his stare. “Oh, he’ll burn,” I assured him. Maybe not the way Rye would want it, but Julian would never be able to use his connection to me again. I’d make sure of it.

He looked relaxed for the first time in weeks. “You need to warn her.”

“I’ll handle, Isla.”

He stood, pausing with his hand on the table’s edge. “You tell her all of this, and she’ll understand more about what she’s getting involved with.”

“She knows enough.”

Rye left to check upstairs. I sat in the club’s quiet, phone in hand, watching the men in my club pretend they weren’t watching me just as closely.

I picked up my phone, got out of the seat, and walked up the stairs to my office. Once in my chair, I pressed Julian’snumber. It rang for so long that I almost thought he wouldn’t answer.

“Zayn?” I heard him moving, and then the background noise quietened.

“A flash drive, Julian?” I leaned back in my chair. “Afuckingflash drive?”

I heard the sigh. It sounded weary. “I was stupid, I know that. I didn’t even mean it to become a thing.”

My eyes stayed trained on my piece of art on my wall, the slash of vibrant red seemed to reflect my anger. “But it did become a thing, it became a very big fucking thing. It became dangerous.” I paused. “Why would you have it if you never intended to use it?”

“It was never to be used against you, Zayn.”

I snorted. “And pigs were never meant to be bacon.”

“I fucked up. Okay? I know that. I’ve… I’ve got a fucking gambling addiction,” he said and I heard the bitterness in his voice. The disappointmentin himself. “I had everything, everything, a nice house, a great job, good friends, and I lost all of it to a shitty hand of poker.”

“Not just one hand,” I reminded him, unmoved by his remorse. “None of this tells me why you kept a ledger on me, Julian. All this tells me is that your therapy lessons aren’t working.”

I heard the low grunt. “You put someone on me? Onme?”

“You kept a record of my movements?” I mocked his shocked tone. “You’re lucky you aren’t face down in the back of a car.”

“And why aren’t I?” he challenged. “I’ll tell you why, because we’refriends. Remember?”

“We’re not friends. You’re still breathing because she asked me not to hurt you.”

The silence was heavy, and then he finally spoke. “What do you want from me?”

“How many copies?”

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