Page 26 of Fury
"Already on it," Mason responds, stepping away to make the calls.
"Livie, baby." Dad's voice changes slightly when addressing me. "You stay put. Don't leave Grayson’s place for any reason, you hear me?"
"Dad, shouldn't we just call the police now that we know?—"
"Police?" He barks out a humorless laugh. "What are they going to do? Take a report? Tell us they'll look into it? Meanwhile, this psychopath is still out there, still hunting you."
Greyson's hand squeezes mine supportively as Dad continues.
"No. We handle this ourselves. MC style." The resolve in his voice brooks no argument. "That's what family means, baby girl. We protect our own."
I swallow hard, nodding even though he can't see me. "Okay."
"Grayson," Dad addresses Greyson directly. "I need you at this meeting. Bring your top guys."
"I'll be there," Greyson confirms, his expression hardening into the club president I glimpsed at the party. "But I'm not leaving Livie alone."
"My prospects will guard the house," Dad says. "Four of them, armed. Nothing gets within a mile of her without us knowing."
After we hang up, Greyson turns to me, his eyes searching mine. "You okay with this?"
"Do I have a choice?" I ask, not unkindly.
"Always," he says, surprising me. "We can do this by the book if that's what you want. Call the cops, file charges, wait for the system to work."
I think about Richard Keller, about the darkness Diane described, about the terror I've felt these past weeks. The system didn't protect Diane when she tried to report him. Why would it protect me?
"No," I say finally, steel entering my voice. "Dad's right. We handle this ourselves."
Relief flashes across Greyson's face before he masks it. "I need to shower and change before the meeting. Will you be all right for a few minutes?"
I nod, suddenly feeling very small in his oversized shirt. "I should get dressed too."
While Greyson showers, I return to the guest room and pull on jeans and a sweater, trying to process everything that's happened. By the time I come back downstairs, the house is transformed. Four serious-faced young men in prospect cuts are stationed around the property. Greyson stands in the living room, now fully dressed in jeans, a black t-shirt, and his leather cut, looking every inch the MC president.
"I don't want to leave you," he says, crossing to me.
"I know." I reach up to straighten his cut, a gesture I've seen my mother perform countless times for my father. "But you need to be there."
He captures my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm. "I'll have my phone. Call if anything, and I mean anything, feels off."
"I will."
He hesitates, then pulls me into a fierce kiss that leaves me breathless. "This will be over soon," he promises against my lips. "And then we figure out us without all this hanging over our heads."
After Greyson leaves, the house feels eerily quiet despite the presence of the prospects outside. I pace restlessly, checking my phone every few minutes for updates from Diane. When it finally rings, I nearly drop it in my haste to answer.
"Diane? Did you find it?” I ask.
"I did," Diane confirms, relief evident in her voice. "I’m taking it straight to a detective I trust. But, Livie, there's something else you should know."
My stomach tightens. "What?"
"Richard's wife filed for divorce last month. She's missing. The police are looking for her, but…" Her voice trails off.
"You think he hurt her," I finish, cold dread settling over me.
"I think she might be in serious danger, if she's still alive," Diane adds. "Which is why I sent copies of everything to your email just now. In case anything happens to the original."
