Page 118 of His Fury

“None.” He hurried on. “It’s the truth. I put everything I had on the flash drive and then deleted it from my computer.”

“Why?”

I heard his breathing change, and if he were in front of me, I knew exactly what he would look like. A man barely hanging on.

“Because I didn’t want to fuck up again.”

I leaned forward. Anger coursing through my veins. “No, Julian, you didn’ttrustyourself not to sell me out again.”

“Zayn—”

“Leave town,” I told him curtly. “You need a break. I don’t want to see you here, and I want you far away from Isla.”

“You can’t dictate?—”

“Yes I fucking can!” I was on my feet. “You gave her to fucking Delayney you piece of shit. You get this one pass,onepass. Because shepleadedfor you. You won’t get another.”

There was silence. I waited, my temper high, almost hoping he would argue.

“I never meant it to come to this,” he finally said.

“It was always going to come to this.” I hung up.

I tapped out a message on my phone, letting them know he had twenty-four hours to get out of Gracemont, telling them to confirm the moment he was gone.

I sat back in my chair and looked at the door. Anyone else would be dead. I owed him nothing. Rye was right, Julian was a loose end. I rolled my head on my shoulders, loosening up the tension in my neck.

I got up, fixed my suit jacket, checked my cufflinks, and ran a hand through my hair, willing my temper to cool downbut knowing I was a long way from calm. I’d not been calm since the moment I knew they took her.

But I would be.

Nothing had changed; they just needed to see that, even though I had nothing to prove, I knew that in this world, assurances had to be given. Loyalties proved.

I’d remind them exactly who I was, and if they didn’t like it, they could go fuck themselves.

CHAPTER 28

ISLA

The Grand wasalive with movement.

At six thirty in the morning, trays of pastries were being brought into the conference room. Voices echoed down polished hallways, and screens lit in the room as presentations were being loaded and tested.

The sense of the familiar should have calmed me. The predictability of an event. The precision. Instead, I felt off-kilter.

I double-checked the table settings, updated the display board in the front foyer, and corrected a typo in the first slide of the host’s presentation that had been driving me slowly insane the longer he didn’t see it.

Everything was fine. So why wasn’t I?

I was at the back of the conference room, running through my event itinerary one more time; although at this point, I knew it better than the host knew his opening lines. I’d been up since five, left the house at quarter to six, and neither Zayn nor Rye had been home.

I was trying not to panic. I hadn’t been there that long. I didn’t know their routine. I was certain Rye didn’t live therepermanently; maybe he went to his own place for a change. It sounded as empty as it felt.

I checked my phone again, hoping Zayn would text. I didn’t want to pester him or be the girlfriend who overreacted after telling someone she loved them without receiving a reply. Even though Iknewthat wasn’t what happened, I was still very close to spiraling.

“Fuck it.”

Missed you this morning, hope all is okay.

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