Page 97 of His Fury

She flinched—not from fear but from the force of it.

The heat of it.

I dropped the flash drive back on the table and paced, my blood pounding. I couldn’t sit still. Not with the image in my head—Isla, caught mid-step in a grainy photo, someone on the other side of a lens thinking she was leverage.

That she was disposable.

She wasn’t.

Not to me.

I stopped at the far end of the room, my hands braced on the back of the counter. Breathing hard.

“I told myself keeping you hidden was best for you,” I said quietly. “That the less you knew, the safer you’d be. But you’ve never been safe.” I turned to look at her, seeing she was still watching me, silent, wide-eyed, but steady. “You were never going to be just some girl I left on the outside,” I said. “Not before they took you. Definitely not after I got you back.”

She took a step towards me. “Before they took me? When we were done? You never fought for me. You let me go.”

I met her gaze steadily. “Did I?”

Isla swallowed, uncertainty in her eyes. “Julian gave us up,” she whispered, unshed tears in her eyes, her throat thick with them. “He was here. He told me he told them…things.”

I didn’t speak for a second. I wanted to lie. Wanted to give her something softer than the truth. But I respected her too much for that now. “I know.”

Accusation flashed in her eyes. “You didn’t tell me.”

“What do you want me to say, Is? The guy you trusted with more than your life stabbed you in the back?” I scoffed. “You’d have called me a liar.”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t.” She wiped her eyes angrily. “They used him.”

My snort was loud. “Did they?” I walked back to the laptop and put the flash drive back in, when it was opened, I clicked on the first spreadsheet. “See this?” I looked at her, and she nodded. “Look at the date, Is.” I watched as she realized what I had shown her. “That isn’t Patrick or anyone else.Thatis Julian.”

Isla stepped backwards. “What? What are you saying?”

I straightened. “I’m saying that myfriendJulian Turner has been collecting a dossier on me for years.” I shoved my hands into my pockets to prevent myself from grabbing her and shaking her when she stubbornly shook her head in denial.

“No.”

“Yes.” I watched her as she struggled to accept it. “I have no reason to lie to you, Isla.”

“But you’re friends.”

“We were friends a long time ago,” I told her softly, hating to see her struggle with this. “Then it changed.”

Isla looked up. “How? What happened?”

It was my turn to look away. “You did.”

Her stupefied stare almost made me laugh. “You came to acollege party and asked me to help our friend.” I rolled my shoulders back as I recalled that night. “We both know what a bastard his father was. We both know how he used to beat the shit out of him.”

“You killed him.”

This time, I did laugh. “No, babe, I didn’t.” I ran my hand over my hair. “All I did was help bury the fucker in a shallow grave.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “Julian?”

“I didn’t get there in time,” I admitted. “Damage was done.”

The heavy silence lay between us, which was strange, as I felt lighter for the confession.

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