Page 18 of His Fury

I stepped into her space so quickly that she had to tilt her chin up to meet my eyes. “You didn’t need what?” My voice was low, dangerous. “To be pulled out of a hostage situation? To not be a fucking pawn in Julian’s mess?”

Isla’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t needyouto be the one to do it.”

There it was. The resistance. The anger. I should’ve let it go. I should’ve walked away. She’d been through enough tonight. Instead, I leaned in, my voice low, lethal. “Too fucking bad.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t look away.

And neither did I.

Her temper flared, her emotions all over the place. She had a lot to deal with, but I’d take her rage any day. Her chest rose and fell too quickly as if she was holding back words she wanted to throw at me.

Good.

Because I wasn’t exactly feeling fucking charitable, either.

Her hazel eyes burned into mine, searching, challenging. She wanted a fight. I almost gave her one. Instead, I exhaled slowly, forcing my hands to unclench.

“Let’s go.”

Isla didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

“You just expect me to get in the car?” she asked, her voice sharp. “No explanation? Not one word of conversation? Just get in the car and go, like nothing happened?”

I arched a brow. “Do you want to walk? Go back to the warehouse?” I watched her lips press together, but she didn’t answer. “Exactly.”

I took a step back, giving her space. Givingmyselfspace. Because the anger rolling through me was starting to tastelike something else, something hotter, something more dangerous.

“Get in the car, Is,” I said, my voice rough.

Her shoulders squared. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

God-fucking-damn this woman. I let out a humorless chuckle. “Really? Because a few hours ago, you didn’t get to decide whether you were thrown in the back of a fucking car, but sure, let’s argue about me coming to get your ass out of a fucking storage unit.”

Isla faltered, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face before she masked it. Guilt curled in my stomach, but I ignored it. I didn’t have the luxury of making her feel better right now. She couldn’t break down here. I needed to get her in the car. I needed to get the fuck out of here, and we needed to stop standing in the middle of the goddamn road where Patrick or any of his men could easily pass us.

She straightened her jacket, and then, with a sharp exhale, she finally—finally—turned towards the SUV. I watched her yank the door open, sliding into the backseat with stiff, clipped movements.

I didn’t let myself relax. Not yet. Getting back in the car, I exchanged a look with Rye. A silent warning. A promise. Rye pulled out onto the road, and silence once more wrapped around us.

A few minutes later, Isla spoke. “You didn’t have to come.”

I forced my voice to remain even. “You’re right. I could’ve let you sit there until they got bored of using you for a debt he can’t pay.”

I heard her lean forward, and I turned my head to look at her. “That’s not what I meant!” she snapped.

My fingertips pressed into my thigh as I fought the urge to grab her. “Then what, Isla?”

She held my stare. “I don’t know.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Then that makes two of us.” When it seemed she had nothing left to say, I turned to face the front.

We were all quiet until I heard a soft sigh. “I didn’t want you to be the one to fix this.”

I nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. Like there had ever been another option. I turned back to look at her. “Yeah, well. Welcome to my world, sweetheart. Cleaning up other people’s messes is what I do.”

Isla swallowed, looking away, and I didn’t miss the way she pressed her nails into her palms, her tell when she was overwhelmed. I saw Rye giving me the side-eye, and I clenched my jaw to stop myself from snapping at him.

Turning back around, I asked her gruffly. “Did they hurt you?”

---