Page 37 of His Fury

Zayn didn’t move. He didn’t have to. The weight of that touch said more than either of us could right now.

“Where’s Julian?” I asked him eventually. “Still got all his teeth?”

“I hit him once.”

I looked up. “Really?”

Zayn gave me a flat look. “I’m not a teenager anymore. I can control my temper.”

“Were you ever a teenager?” I asked, only half joking. “You were always so much older than us. Not in age, obviously, but maturity, I guess. I was listening to boy bands, and you were in underground fighting circuits.”

“Different lifestyles,” he said easily. “You were focused on school, on grades, and college. I was focused on…other things.”

“Like?”

“Surviving in a world that was ready to chew me up and spit me out.”

I stared down at where our hands barely touched, my thumb brushing the edge of his. It wasn’t a promise, and it wasn’t an acceptance.

It was permission—for both of us to just exist in this moment without all the noise pressing in.

But the silence didn’t last.

My voice broke it, quiet and brittle. “Julian’s going to ruin himself.”

Zayn exhaled slowly. This time, he was the one to break the stare. “He already did.”

I flinched at his bluntness, but it wasn’t cruel. Just honest. That’s what Zayn did—he spoke truths you didn’t want to hear. Truths youneededto hear.

I nodded, more to myself than him. “He was never supposed to be the one I had to worry about.”

“No,” Zayn agreed, looking back at me. “That was always me.”

The blunt reminder was what should’ve made me pull away. Should’ve reminded me exactly who he was—whathe was.Whohe worked with.

Instead, I let my fingers turn under his, slowly curling into the space he offered. His hand closed around mine, warm and solid.

And for the first time since I’d been taken, since thatmoment I’d heard a stranger say “Got her,” I felt the ground had stopped tilting beneath me.

Not steady. Not yet. But still.

“Can I stay here?” I asked him quietly. “Not for long, just until I feel more like myself.” I looked past him to the huge house. “I’ll stay out of the way and your staff’s way.”

“Stay as long as you need.”

I bit my bottom lip to stop from crying again. “Thank you.” I sniffed.

“One thing, though?” His hand tightened its hold on mine.

“Yeah?”

“Take Rye’s hoodie off,” he told me, his eyes light for the first time since he’d come for me. “The only male clothing you’re going to wear is mine.”

“Seriously?” I protested, watching as his eyes narrowed. “It’s just a hoodie.” He didn’t blink. “It’sclean.” I tugged my hand, but his grip held me tight.

He held his hand up before me, counting off the fingers. “My clothes, your clothes, no clothes,” he said with two fingers still held down. “No other options.”

“What are you going to do if I say no clothes?” I asked him, laughing at his silliness. It felt freeing, as if it were the first time I’d felt like this in what seemed like years.

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