Page 42 of Fury
"Your choice," he says. "I'm happy to face the Bennett inquisition whenever you're ready."
The thought of my entire family grilling Greyson over pot roast makes me laugh despite everything. "Maybe we should get it over with. Like ripping off a Band-Aid."
"Somehow I doubt it'll be that quick or painless." He grimaces, though there's humor in his eyes. "Your mother is going to have questions. Lots of questions."
"You can handle it," I tease, poking his chest lightly. "Big, bad MC president afraid of my mom?"
“Terrified," he admits with a chuckle, joking.
I snuggle back into his chest, loving the fact that he is willing to go to my family’s home and face them, but I wouldn’t doubt that half of the MC will be right there around the dinner table.
I’m excited to get to know some of my cousins' ole ladies, and it makes me happy to think of Elle and Christopher getting together after being in love with each other their whole lives.
Most of all, I'm excited to get to know my brother's ole lady Meadow, who is from the Devil Souls MC herself.
My brother has told me a lot about her. I have met her throughout the years, but this is different because she is my brother's ole lady.
"You should rest before we head over there," Greyson suggests, running his fingers through my hair. "Doctor's orders, remember?"
I start to protest but a yawn betrays me. The pain medication is making me drowsy, and the emotional toll of the past few days is finally catching up to me.
"Just for an hour," I concede, letting him guide me upstairs to the bedroom.
"I'll wake you with plenty of time to get ready," he promises, tucking the blanket around me with surprising tenderness.
I'm asleep before he even leaves the room.
The sound of Greyson's phone jolts me awake. Disoriented, I blink at the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows. How long was I out?
"What?" Greyson's voice is sharp, tense in a way that immediately sets me on edge. "When?"
I push myself up, wincing at the protest from my ribs. Greyson stands at the window, his back rigid, one hand gripping the phone so tightly his knuckles have gone white.
"And you're sure it was—" He cuts himself off, listening. "Jesus Christ. Lock it down. No one talks to the press. No one."
"What's wrong?" I ask, my voice still rough with sleep.
He turns, his expression unreadable as he ends the call. "Richard Keller is dead."
My heart stutters. "What? How?"
"Someone got to him in the hospital." Greyson crosses to sit on the edge of the bed, his movements measured, controlled. "Security found him an hour ago. Throat cut."
"Oh my God." I press a hand to my mouth, shock rippling through me.
"That's not all." His jaw tightens. "Whoever did it cut his lips off."
The gruesome detail hits me like a physical blow. "His lips? Why would anyone— Who did it?" I ask instead, though part of me doesn't want to know the answer.
"No one knows," he says, far too quickly. "Hospital security cameras mysteriously malfunctioned. No witnesses."
The drive to my parents' house is tense, silent except for the low rumble of Greyson's truck. My mind races with possibilities, with questions I'm not sure I want answered. Richard Keller was a monster who nearly killed me, who terrorized women, who would have continued hurting people if he hadn't been stopped. But this brutal execution crosses a line that even MC justice rarely approaches.
As we pull into the driveway, I notice fewer bikes than I expected. No extended family. Just my parents' vehicles and my brother's; the twins have gone back to college.
"Small dinner," I murmur, more to myself than to Greyson.
"Family only," he confirms, his hand finding mine across the console. "Whatever happens in there, remember that I'm with you. All the way."
