Page 34 of Fury
The phone buzzes again, but this time it's a text from my father.
Coming by to check on you. Bringing breakfast.
I show Greyson the message, watching as his expression shifts to something more guarded. "Guess that's our cue to get up," he says, making no move to leave the bed.
"Guess so," I agree, equally reluctant.
For a moment, we stay where we are, suspended in the peaceful bubble we've created. Then, with visible effort, Greyson presses a kiss to my forehead and rolls away.
"I'll make coffee." He stands and stretches in a way that showcases every sculpted muscle of his torso. "You want to shower first?"
I nod, unable to trust my voice as I watch him move around the room, collecting his gun from the nightstand. He pauses at the door, looking back at me with a smile that promises so much more than words could convey.
"For what it's worth," he says, "that was the best night's sleep I've had in two years."
After he's gone, I lie in the warmth he left behind, marveling at how much has changed in such a short time. Three days ago, I was nervous about coming home, about facing the past I'd left behind. Now I've survived a stalker, reconnected with the man I never thought I'd have, and discovered a strength in myself I didn't know existed.
Not bad for a homecoming, I think as I finally rise to face the day. Not bad at all.
The woman in the bathroom mirror looks like she's been through a war—scratches on my cheeks from branches, the ring of bruises around my neck, dark circles under my eyes. I splash cold water on my face and run a brush through my tangled hair, not bothering with makeup. What's the point in hiding the evidence of what I survived?
I've just pulled on one of Greyson's t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants after my shower when I hear the rumble of motorcycles approaching. Peering through the window, I see my father and Mason dismounting their bikes, removing helmets as they stride toward the house.
By the time I make it downstairs, Greyson has already let them in. He hands me a mug of coffee as I enter the kitchen, his fingers lingering on mine, a silent good morning.
"Hey, baby girl," Dad says, his eyes cataloging my injuries with barely contained rage. "How you feeling?"
"Like I got my ass kicked," I admit, sinking onto a stool at the island. "But I'm alive, so there's that."
Mason leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. "You look like hell."
"Thanks," I say dryly. "Just what every girl wants to hear."
"But a badass kind of hell," he amends with a smirk. "Heard you went all Lara Croft on that psycho with a crowbar."
Despite everything, I feel a small smile tugging at my lips. "I did what I had to do."
Dad pulls out the chair beside me, his expression changing as he takes my hand. "We got an update from the police this morning. With the evidence you provided and the attack yesterday, they're holding Keller without bail. The DA's filing multiple charges—attempted murder, stalking, breaking and entering, assault with a deadly weapon."
"Good," I say, relief washing through me. "What about his wife? Did they find her?"
A dark look passes between my father and brother.
"They found her," Mason says grimly. "In the trunk of another car registered to Keller. She'd been there for days."
My stomach drops. "Is she…?"
"Alive, barely," Dad confirms. "Dehydrated, beaten pretty badly. She's in the ICU, but doctors think she'll pull through."
I close my eyes, imagining that poor woman trapped in darkness, wondering if anyone would find her in time. It could have been me.
"So, it's over," I say, more to myself than anyone else. "Really over."
"It's over," Dad agrees, squeezing my hand. "Which means you can come home now."
I open my eyes to find him watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
"Home?" I repeat.
