Page 58 of His Fury

Was that all he cared about? The repercussions from Zayn?

“He’ll find out.” I paused. “But not from me.”

“Isla…” His voice was barely more than breath, but he saw the look in my eye. “You’re right, I need to talk to him.” Herubbed his jaw, glancing at me, and I could almost hear what he was thinking.

“I’m not doing it for you, Julian. This time it’s all you.”

“I fucked up,” he said as he watched me. “I don’t want it to be like this between us, Isla.”

I nodded, a lump rising in my throat. “Neither do I.” I cleared my throat. “You should go now.”

“I—Isla, please?—”

“You should go.”

His mouth opened. Closed. Then, with shaking hands, he stood and walked to the door slowly, like he wasn’t sure his legs would carry him.

He paused just before opening it, and he said the one thing that almost broke me.

“I never thought I’d lose you.”

I didn’t answer. Because I was scared that he already had, but I refused to cry.

The door clicked shut behind Julian, yet the weight of him lingered in the air. I listened for the car to drive away.

I didn’t move. Not for a long time. I stayed rooted in place, the ghost of our conversation echoing in my ears—his voice breaking when he said he didn’t know how to fix it.

God, I didn’t either.

I wandered back to the living room, sitting down slowly, curling into the edge of the couch like it might offer answers I couldn’t find in my own head. My hands twisted in Zayn’s hoodie, the sleeves far too long, but I took comfort in wearing it.

I had told Julian Zayn wouldn’t hear about him coming here from me. And I meant it when I said it.

But now…

Now I wasn’t sure.

Because I also had been the one who agreed to no more secrets between Zayn and me.

“Fuck.”

One visit from Julian, and I was in a dilemma about talking to Zayn all over again, but this time for a very different reason.

I dropped my face into my hands and groaned.

I didn’t owe Julian anything anymore. He’d lost that right the second he made me someone’s leverage. But part of me—the part that remembered birthdays and sleepovers and every broken heart he helped glue back together—still hesitated, because I couldn’t cut ties so easily and I knew that. Zayn knew that.

And I was sure that Julian was counting on it.

I needed to tell Zayn he was here, but if I told Zayn… Christ, I didn’t even know what he would do.

But if Ididn’ttell Zayn, how could I expect him to trust me whenIwasn’t showinghimthat I trusted him?

I knew what the right thing was. But I also knew what Zayn was capable of when it came to the people he cared about.

I stood suddenly, too restless to sit still. I paced the length of the living room, bare feet silent on the cold floor. Maybe there was a way to soften it. To tell the truth without him freaking out.

Or maybe there wasn’t.

---