Page 11 of Fury
I've barely made it three steps inside when I feel it, the shift in the air, the prickling sensation at the back of my neck that's kept me alive more than once. I turn slowly to find Wilder and Mason standing by the hallway leading to the back rooms, both wearing identical expressions of barely contained fury.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing with my daughter?" Wilder's voice cuts through the noise of the party, not quite a shout but carrying enough authority that several nearby conversations abruptly halt.
Mason's stance mirrors his father's—arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes burning with rage. The family resemblance has never been more obvious than in this moment of shared anger.
I straighten my shoulders, meeting Wilder's gaze directly. "I think that's a conversation we should have in private."
"Damn right it is," he growls, jerking his head toward the chapel. "Now."
I follow them down the hallway, feeling the eyes of both clubs on my back. Trenton appears at my side, a silent question in his expression.
"I got this," I murmur, and he nods, peeling away to run interference with the curious onlookers.
The chapel door closes behind us with a heavy thud. Wilder wastes no time, getting right in my face. "You've got some fucking nerve, Reed. She's been back less than twenty-four hours."
"With all due respect, sir," I say, keeping my voice level, "Livie isn't a child anymore."
"She's my child," he snaps. "Always will be. And you've been watching her since she was sixteen."
There's no point denying it. "Seventeen," I correct him quietly. "And I never acted on it until tonight."
Mason makes a sound somewhere between a scoff and a snarl. "So, what, we're supposed to thank you for your restraint?"
"No." I meet his glare steadily. "But you could acknowledge that I respected her enough to let her go when she needed to leave. To give her space to figure out who she is away from all this." I gesture around us, encompassing the club, the town, everything.
Wilder's eyes narrow, but I see the first flicker of something besides anger. "You could have any woman in this town. Why her?"
The question hits me like a physical blow because the answer is both simple and impossibly complex. "Because there's never been anyone else," I admit, the raw honesty in my voice surprising even me. "Not for me."
The silence that follows stretches between us. Mason shifts uncomfortably, but Wilder's gaze never wavers from mine, searching for any sign of deception.
"She just got home," he says finally, his voice quieter but no less intense. "She's been through some shit in LA that she's barely talking about."
This is news to me. "What kind of shit?"
Wilder and Mason exchange a look, and my stomach tightens with dread.
"Not our story to tell," Mason says reluctantly. "But she needs time to settle. To feel safe again."
"I would never hurt her," I say, the words coming out like a vow.
"Not intentionally," Wilder agrees, surprising me. "But you're the president of an MC. That life comes with risks. Enemies. Complications."
"So does being the daughter of a VP," I counter. "She grew up in this world, same as I did."
"And she left it," he reminds me. "For a reason."
I run a hand through my hair, frustration building. "Look, I'm taking her to dinner tomorrow night. That's it. A chance to talk, to figure out what this is between us." I meet Wilder's eyes directly. "I'm not asking for your permission, but I'd rather have your respect than your anger."
His expression shifts at that—it's not quite approval, but a grudging acknowledgment. "You hurt her, I'll end you. President or not."
"I'd expect nothing less."
Mason steps forward, still radiating older brother energy. "There's something else you should know. Tonight, when she left…"
The chapel door swings open, cutting him off. Trent stands in the doorway, his expression grim. "Sorry to interrupt, but we've got a situation. Livie just called her mom. said there was a car following her. Dark sedan, tinted windows."
The blood drains from my face as Wilder curses violently. "Same as in LA," he growls, already moving toward the door.
