Page 19 of His Fury

She shook her head slowly, her eyes wide, and I saw the fear begin to creep back in. “No.”

I nodded, forcing myself to remain calm for her. She needed me to be in control right now. My eyes dipped to her hand. “You’re bleeding.”

Isla looked down at her hands. “I did that myself. I was trying to find a way out, but it was dark…” She looked up at me, and I saw the unshed tears ready to spill. “They didn’t hurt me.” She rubbed her wrists. “A few bruises from when they grabbed me, I think.”

Thank fuck I wasn’t driving, because I’d be turning this car right the fuck around. Acting rashly in anger wasn’t the wisest move right now. I knew that. I just needed to keep reminding myself of it.

“It’s okay,” I told her, my voice low. “I’ve got you. No oneis going to hurt you.” I looked outside the car. “We’re almost there. Hold on a little bit longer.”

I wasn’t going to take her home. I wasn’t going to ask if she wanted me to. She might have thought she wanted to be alone, but I wasn’t giving her that option. Not tonight.

Gracemont blurred past as we drove, headlights muted in the brightly lit streets. Isla didn’t speak again, and I didn’t push her. Not yet.

It was anything but comfortable. The tension was thick and crackling, waiting for something to set it off. When Rye pulled into the underground garage beneath Elixir, she stiffened.

“Why are we here?”

Rye killed the engine, and I unbuckled my seat belt, my movements controlled. Deliberate. “Because we’re going to talk.”

Her laugh was sharp. Bitter. “Talk? You? Well, that’ll be a first.”

I turned to her, my jaw tightening. “You’re pissed? Good. So am I.”

She was shaking her head as she threw the door open, getting out of the car. “You don’t get to beangry?—”

I was out of the car before she could finish, slamming the door shut and stalking around the hood until we were face-to-face in the bright garage lighting.

“I don’t get to be angry?” I asked her, my voice quiet. “You weretaken. Used as a bargaining chip. And I don’t get to beangry?”

Isla glared at me, breathing hard, frustration pouring off her in waves. “I didn’t ask you to fix this!”

“And yet, here we are,” I shot back, stepping closer. “Becausethere is no one else to fix this.”

Her fists clenched, and she looked away. “So now what?You want me to tell you you’re my hero?” Isla scoffed. “Fuck that. And fuck you.”

Heat surged through me but not from anger. From her. From the way her chest rose and fell too fast. From the way she was practically vibrating with rage, resentment, and something she would never name.

I took another step forward, forcing her to tilt her chin up to meet my gaze. “Careful, little Isla,” I murmured. “You’re pushing me.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t move. Didn’t back down.

I wasn’t backing down either. Taking hold of her arm, I led her to the elevator. “We do this in the loft.” I felt her resistance. “Inside. Now.”

I felt her hesitate but only for a second, and with a sharp elbow in my ribs making me loosen my hold, she freed herself of me and stormed inside.

The ride up was stifling. Neither of us spoke, and the tension wrapped around us like a noose. I could feel the anger and adrenaline radiating from her as it pumped through her veins.

She wanted to fight. She wanted to lash out. And I was this fucking close to letting her. The doors slid open, and she strode into my loft like she belonged there. I followed, taking off my jacket as I did.

Isla turned to face me, eyes blazing. “So what now?” she demanded. “I’m here so you can tell me what a stupid idiot I am for getting kidnapped?”

I shook my head, taking my cuff links off and dropping them on the table beside me. I rolled my shirt sleeves up. “No.”

“Then why?—”

“Because I needed to see you.” I cut her off, my voice raw,unfiltered. “I needed to know for sure that you were okay. That they hadn’t—” I stopped myself, dragging a hand through my hair.

Isla’s face screwed up, her throat working. “I told you. They didn’t hurt me.”

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