Page 17 of His Fury

I held his stare for a moment longer before I turned to follow Rye and Isla out.

“McCabe?” I didn’t look back as he called me. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Not if I see you first, Delaney.”

I walked out of the warehouse, the promise hanging in the air between us.

The battle lines were drawn, and Patrick Delaney would not survive the fight.

CHAPTER 5

ZAYN

When I walked outside,Rye was holding the car door open for Isla. The fact that she was hesitating about getting in the car made me want to praise her and yell at her at the same time.

Rye gave me a look that told me exactly how he felt about her hesitation, and I understood his frustration.

“You got better offers tonight?” I asked her as I came to stand beside them. Rye mumbled something under his breath, too low for me to hear, as he walked past me to get to the driver’s side, leaving me beside Isla. “Get in the car.”

She looked okay. Her clothes reflected how her night had gone with dirt and stains on them. Her face had a streak of dirt on it, the backs of her hands had dried blood on them, and her knuckles were scuffed up.

For a long, charged moment, we just stood there—the night air thick between us, the space between our bodies humming with tension.

She sucked in a breath. “Zayn?—”

“Not yet.” I jerked my head to the car door. “Get in quick. We’re leaving.”

She looked between the open door and me. “I?—”

“I said get in,” I reminded her, taking hold of the door. “Unless you want to go back inside?”

Her eyes narrowed in anger. With a glare, she got into the backseat of the SUV, and we ignored Rye, mentioning his upholstery getting dirty. Once she was in, I closed the door and got in the front seat.

The rage I’d been trying to swallow was threatening to explode. I wasn’t angry at her. I was angry at the situation. At Patrick. At Julian.

“Get us out of here,” I instructed Rye softly.

Rye drove us out of the old industrial yard and headed back to Gracemont. The car was thick with silence, and I saw him glance at me more than once, no doubt wondering why I wasn’t saying anything.

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

There it was. Rye pulled over to the side of the road, the doors unlocked, and Isla rushed out of the car.

Rye turned to me. “Zayn, what the?—”

“Wait.” I got out of the car and followed slowly behind, watching her gulp in huge breaths, her body bent over double, her hands on her knees as she coped with the realization she was free and unharmed.

She looked up as I approached her. “I’m fine.” She straightened as I got closer.

“You were taken.” The words came out sharp, rough. I inhaled slowly. “So, no, I’d say you were far from fine.”

I saw her flinch. Her mouth opened, then snapped shut.

Good.

Because I was one second away from putting a bullet in Patrick’s skull, and if I didn’t get her back in the car, I was going to do something I wouldn’t regret, but she might.

She looked past me, her eyes looking back the way we’d come. “I didn’t need?—”

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