Page 43 of Fury
Mom opens the door before we can knock, her smile tight but genuine as she embraces me carefully.
"Oh, baby," she whispers, pulling back to examine my bruised face. "My brave girl."
"I'm okay, Mom," I assure her, though the words feel hollow with the weight of what we've just learned.
She turns to Greyson, surprising us both by pulling him into a hug as well. "Thank you for keeping her safe."
"Always," he promises, the single word carrying more meaning than entire speeches could.
Inside, the atmosphere is unnervingly normal—the dining room table set with Mom's good China, the smell of food filling the house, music playing from the kitchen speakers. Dad and my brother Mason sit in the living room, each nursing a glass of whiskey, their conversation halting as we enter.
"Livie." Dad stands, crossing to kiss my forehead. His eyes linger on the bruises around my neck, something dark and satisfied flickering in their depths. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," I say, watching his face carefully. "Though I just heard some disturbing news."
Dad's expression doesn't change.
“News?" Mom asks, returning from the kitchen.
"Richard Keller is dead," I say bluntly. "Murdered in his hospital room."
My mom grins from ear to ear. “Well, isn’t that some good news.”
I snort out a laugh, not expecting her to say that. "But who would do this? I thought this would just be over? Was he involved with something else?"
Dad and Greyson exchange a look before Dad sighs. "Richard Keller wasn't just some random stalker, Livie. He had connections, financial dealings with people who operate in the shadows. People who might have wanted him silenced before he could make a deal with prosecutors."
I sink into the nearest chair, trying to process this new information. "You're saying the mob had him killed? Not the clubs?"
"I'm saying there are many people who wanted Richard Keller dead," Dad replies carefully. He then pinches the bridge of his nose, his expression darkening. "There's something you need to know, Livie. Something I didn't tell you before." He looks at Greyson, who nods slightly. "We managed to recover more from that ZIP file than your friend let on."
"What do you mean?" I ask, tension coiling in my stomach.
"Richard Keller wasn't just some abusive stalker. He was a damn chatterbox," Dad explains, his voice hardening. "There were hours of recordings where he bragged about his connections—high-level mob associates who run trafficking rings, prostitution and kidnapping operations. He described in explicit detail how they abduct women, how they torture people who cross them."
My blood runs cold. "But why would he tell Diane all this?"
"Because he's an arrogant bastard who thought he was untouchable," Mason interjects. "The recordings show he was spilling the same information to the police, trying to cut a deal for some financial crimes he committed."
"Jesus," I whisper, the new information hitting me like a physical blow.
"That's not all," Dad continues grimly. "From what we can piece together, your friend Diane wasn't just gathering evidence against Richard for his abuse. She was using these recordings to blackmail his mob connections."
"What?" I nearly choke on the word. "Diane was blackmailing the mob?"
Mason nods, his expression grim. "It looks that way. Small amounts at first, just enough to stay under the radar. But when Richard disappeared, his friends started getting suspicious. They traced the blackmail back to Diane."
"And now they're after her," Greyson adds, his hand finding mine. "Which means they could come looking for you too, if they think you're involved."
Mom makes a small, distressed sound from the doorway.
"We need to make absolutely certain they understand you have nothing to do with this," Dad says, leaning forward intently. "That you never knew about the blackmail, never saw those recordings, never participated in any way."
"But how?" I ask, my voice shaking slightly. "If they killed Richard in a guarded hospital room, what's to stop them from coming after me anyway?"
"We have channels," Greyson says quietly. "Ways to communicate that this was Diane's operation alone, that you were an unwitting roommate caught in the crossfire."
I stare at him, suddenly understanding the true extent of the MC's connections. "You know people who know these people."
