Page 60 of His Fury

“Isla?”

“Yeah?”

There was that edge again in his voice—quiet, cautious, unreadable. “You sure you’re okay?”

I closed my eyes. “I’m okay.”

The call ended.

As soon as it did, I regretted not just saying it right then. But it wasn’t the kind of thing you blurted out while he was surrounded by music, shadows, and people who would happily tear him down for one weak moment. Whichsounded incredibly dramatic, but I knew he needed to be alone.

Focused. Not distracted. So he could fully absorb the irrational actions of the woman in his house…I needed to stop thinking I was going to get punished. I was a grown woman, and he wasn’t my boss.

Okay, he might not be the boss of me, but in this case, I should have listened when he told me to stay away from Julian right now.

I felt so nervous. It was like I cheated on him or something, which was preposterous. I walked back into the kitchen and topped up my wine. I needed this.

Ten minutes later, the phone lit up, and I stared at it for two full rings before answering. “Hey.”

“Hey.” His voice was calm. Controlled. But I could still feel the undercurrent of tension humming beneath it. “What’s going on?”

I didn’t speak right away. My throat was dry. My heartbeat was too loud. “I did something,” I said softly. “And I need you to hear it from me.”

Silence. Not even breathing on the other end.

I forged on even though my voice shook. “Julian came here.”

Still, nothing. Just a silence so thick it made my chest tighten.

“I let him in. I didn’t plan to—it just happened. He knocked, and I saw him, and I…” My voice cracked. “I should’ve sent him away. But I didn’t. I let him inside. I made him sit down. And we talked.”

Zayn’s voice, when it came, was quiet. Deadly. “When?”

“Earlier.”

“Whenearlier?”

“An hour. A little bit more.” Fine, two hours, but I didn’t need to tell him how long it took me to confess.

“You let him inthe house?” The steel in his tone made my eyes sting. “When you’realone?”

“Yes.”

“After everything that’s happened, you thought that was a good idea?”

“Yes?” I swallowed hard. “No. I didn’t think it was a good idea. I just… I needed to look him in the face and say what I needed to say.”

He let out a slow breath that sounded like he was forcing the air through clenched teeth. “And whatexactlydid you need to say?”

“That he doesn’t get to turn up and say sorry and that was all it would take to fix this,” I whispered. “That what happened was scary and unforgivable. That I don’t know who he is now.”

Another long silence. This one more dangerous than the last.

I filled the silence.

“I told him you wouldn’t hear it from me, that he came to the house, I mean,” I confessed, shame curling around every word. “But I realized I couldn’t keep it from you. You deserved to know. We need to have trust, and if I didn’t tell you that, then it would be hypocritical after everything we said today.” He still wasn’t saying anything. “You told me that only you or Rye would come through the door, and I, I let him in. I know you wanted me to wait, and I didn’t.”

“He came to the house when he knew you werealone.” There was no softness in the words. Just truth. Cold and clean.

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