Page 70 of Fury

She comes closer and lowers her top to show me the scarring on her chest. I wince, and she laughs. “Told yah.”

“How was that done?”

“Branding iron,” she says simply, and I gasp, horrified she’d do that to herself. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you another time.”

Ink sketches directly on my skin on the inside of my wrist. I smile, nodding in approval when he asks me to check. Then I close my eyes and leave him to get on with it. I think about Fury and everything we’ve been through. Our times together, both past and present, have been full of chaos and drama, and I find myself praying it’s all worth it in the end. Because if I have to walk away after all this, it’ll kill me.

The buzzing of the tattoo gun finally stops, and Ink wipes my skin. “All done,” he announces, and I stare at the intricate lettering.

“I love it,” I say with a smile. Even if I have to walk away, I’ll always have a piece of him with me.

“Xanthe?” yells Grizz from upstairs. I frown, climbing from the chair and heading towards the stairs. “Xanthe, get the fuck up here now,” he shouts, and I note the worry in his tone. I take the stairs two at a time until I’m standing in the doorway with everyone staring at Fury, who is holding his head like he’s in pain.

“What’s happened?” I ask, lingering in the doorway.

“You,” whispers Fury, and his eyes burn into mine. I see that vulnerable boy I once knew and realise he’s asking for me.

“Everyone out,” I say, ignoring my racing heart. Nobody questions me as they file out, leaving us alone. I go over to the curtains and close them, blocking out the daylight. When I turn back to Fury, he looks lost, so I move closer to his bedside. “What do you need?” I ask gently.

This time, when his eyes find mine, there are tears glistening, and it breaks my heart. I don’t speak because it’s not words he needs right now. Instead, I climb onto the bed beside him and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him against me. He doesn’t fight me, instead pressing his nose against the crook of my neck and inhaling deeply.

A few minutes pass before I feel him relax against me and his breathing evens out. It would be easier to slip away and let him rest, but there’s a selfish part of me that needs to feel him this close before he realises that he still doesn’t remember me and pushes me away again. So, I settle for the uncomfortable position, with his calm breaths tickling my neck, and I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

I stir,groaning as my body aches in protest. My legs have gone dead because I stupidly tucked them under me, and my arm hurts from where it’s tucked around Fury. I open one eye and realise he’s awake. Feeling embarrassed, I try to sit up, only to realise he’s holding my wrist. The one with the tattoo.Fuck.I didn’t plan on letting him see it. At least, not yet.

“Sorry, it was a stupid idea,” I mumble, trying to pull my arm free, but he grips it tighter. “You told Axel?—”

“Mine,” he whispers, running his thumb over the fresh ink.

“I know you probably said it to keep me safe,” I continue, “but you told Chevy to tell Axel that I was yours.”

“Sorry,” he mutters.

I manage to sit up, freeing my arm and holding it protectively against my chest.Is he sorry that he told Chevy that? Or sorry he can’t remember?

I slide from the bed. “You must be getting hungry,” I say in a breezy tone. “I can fix you some food.”

He gives his head a slight shake before muttering, “Toilet.”

“Of course,” I say. He eases himself to the edge of the bed and waits a second before standing. I grip his arm to steady him, and we slowly walk towards the en suite. I wait just outside the door while he does what he needs to do, and then I walk him back to bed. Once he’s sitting down, he takes my wrist again and runs his thumb over the tattoo. “Mine,” he repeats.

“Food,” I mutter, stepping away.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Fury

Xanthe moves around the room like a ninja. She creeps around, checking my temperature, pulling the sheets over me, and just generally keeping a close eye on me, all while she thinks I’m sleeping. It’s easier to lie here with my eyes closed than see the pain in hers whenever she looks at me.

I want to remember, but it doesn’t matter how hard I try, I just can’t. Not her or us, anyway. I do remember the fight, or parts of it. I keep seeing Jo’s pleading eyes as she begs me to stop smashing my fist into Ripper’s face. I also remember she’s the fucking reason I’m here. She distracted me, probably on purpose to save her precious man. If only she knew the truth about him and everything he’d done.

The door opens, but I keep my eyes closed. Lying in this bed makes me feel weak and pathetic, and I don’t need to see my brothers looking at me with pity.

“How’s he doing?” It’s Axel.

“Fine,” Xanthe replies. It’s the same reply she always gives, with her voice filled with sadness.

“Has he remembered anything?”

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