Page 75 of His Fury

Would he sell Isla out? Not intentionally. But the timing was too clean. The kidnapping, the way Delaney’s men had been sniffing around since…no, there was something more here.

I trusted Rye. I trusted Isla.

I didn’t trust anyone else.

I opened a folder on my laptop, the one I had on Julian. I started it years ago, and over time, it grew as did my wariness about associating him with my business. He was a good architect with a great eye for design.

Shit judgment for everything else.

His debts had been steep from the start. More than any poker game should’ve allowed for. They’d only climbed as the years went on. So either Julian was in deeper than he admitted—or someonewantedhim to be.

Or wantedmeto believe it.

There was always a difference between bad luck and bait.

I tapped my finger against the mouse, opened the subfolder, and scanned the last few notes. A transfer from hisbusiness account two weeks before Isla was taken. A cash withdrawal the day before.

On their own, they were inconsequential.

But together?

Together, they stank.

I picked up the burner phone and dialed again.

“I need a sit-down with Patrick Delaney,” I said. “Make it clean. Make it official. No shadows. Neutral territory.”

The person on the other end exhaled sharply. “You sure?”

“I’m sure,” I said flatly. “I’m requesting this through the correct channels.”

Another pause. “Fine. I’ll make the call.”

I placed the phone on my desk. I wasn’t mafia; I didn’t want to be. Did I do work for them? Yes. My line of work was requested by a number of people, but it didn’t mean they owned me. No one owned me. That didn’t make me arrogant; it made me smart. I stayed smart by adhering to their rules. If you wanted to kill a player on their board, you requested a meeting. You made it official. Delayney hadn’t made a move, and now I was tired of waiting.

I closed the laptop, put it in its secret spot, and left my office. I took the stairs down to the lower level and into the parking lot. As I drove out of the underground parking lot, I looked in my rearview mirror as Elixir faded behind me.

This was my town. My club. My world.

But the minute they’d come for Isla.

They’d stepped onto my battlefield.

And I didn’t lose battles. Not when she was the prize.

The drive to the house was quiet. I passed a few cars on the road, early-morning folks going to work, ready to clock on when I was clocking off. The sky was still overcast when I stepped out of the car in front of the house.

Gray light hung low above. Cold. Unforgiving. It suited my mood.

I let myself in, knowing the housekeeper wasn’t due until later. The front door clicked open under my hand, and I stepped into the house's stillness.

It was quiet. Soft. Telling me that she was still asleep.

Good.

The door locked automatically behind me, as I slid my jacket off, and made my way upstairs with the kind of deliberate calm that only came after adrenaline had burned itself out.

The hallway light was dim, and the bedroom door was cracked open just slightly.

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