Page 91 of His Fury

He had shown me a side of himself that no one else got to see. The significance of that mattered. And yet…it made everything more difficult.

Because now I couldn’t pretend he was just some beautiful mistake. He wasn’t.

Zayn McCabe had been forged by fire, pressure, and scars I was just beginning to understand. He hadn’t chosen this life—not in the way most people believed. Not in the wayIhad believed.

He’d clawed his way into it so that no one could ever take anything from him again.

And I admired that. Even when I hated it.

I leaned back on the bed, arms spread wide, gazing up at the ceiling fan as it turned in leisurely circles.

“I can’t lose myself,” I whispered, almost like a mantra.

But the truth was, I already had.

Not to him.

Tous.

And that was the scariest part.

CHAPTER 22

ISLA

I satat the breakfast bar in the kitchen with my laptop open, trying to organize the new event calendar for The Grand’s summer schedule. A charity gala, a tech expo requiring eighteen bedrooms, a wedding, and a bar mitzvah.

My brain kept drifting.

To the man who had told me how he traded safety for power. To the way my skin chilled at how the guy from the money deal looked at me the other day. To the sick twist of my stomach that told me this could be my life now.

I took a sip of wine. Was there any way I could stayoutof it? Stay separate? I doubted it. What would that look like? A guard? A permanent guard who would watch over me whenever I wasn’t with Zayn?

I shuddered. I couldn’t think of anything worse.

I was halfway through an email when a knock at the door interrupted everything. Not the doorbell. Just three sharp raps against the solid wood.

I went still.

Who would knock on this door? No one knew this house existed. I approached the front door cautiously, peekingthrough the peephole, knowing who I would see on the other side.

Julian.

I exhaled sharply, my heart still racing, and cracked the door open. I could already hear Zayn in my head, frustrated by my actions. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey,” Julian greeted, his gaze directed downward. “I had to see you.” He looked like shit—tired and pale with bloodshot eyes. “Can I come in?”

I hesitated. “Zayn’s not here.”

“I’m not here for Zayn,” he said with more force than I expected. “I’m here for you. Are youallowedto let me in?”

I opened the door and stepped aside, my pulse still racing. “Don’t come here with that attitude,” I snapped at him. “The reason I can’t go home is because of you,” I growled. “Or did youforget?”

Julian let out a sigh. “I know. Sorry. Fuck, every time I come here, I fuck up. Can I come in?”

I held the door open wider. “You look tired,” I said softly as he passed by me and halted in the hallway.

He offered a humorless smile. “I haven’t slept much.”

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