Page 91 of Fury
She's quiet for so long I think she's decided not to share. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she speaks. "We were back in that cabin. But this time, I was tied to the chair, and you were… on the floor. Volkov had these tools, like the ones he showed us, but he was using them on you. Cutting. Peeling." Her voice breaks. "He kept saying it was my fault, that if I just told him where the recordings were, he'd stop hurting you."
My arms tighten around her instinctively. "It wasn't real, baby."
"I know. But it could have been." She looks up at me, fresh tears tracking down her cheeks. "If we hadn't escaped… if you hadn't gotten us out…"
"But I did," I remind her firmly. "We did. Together."
"This time," she whispers, voicing the fear that's been gnawing at me since we got back. "What about next time? What if he finds us again?"
I cup her face between my hands, making sure she's looking directly into my eyes. "Listen to me. Volkov is never going to touch you again. I won't let that happen. Your father won't let that happen. The entire club won't let that happen."
"You can't promise that," she argues, the medication beginning to soften the edges of her fear, making her eyelids heavy.
"Yes, I can." I press my forehead to hers, willing her to believe me. "Because I'm done playing defense. Your dad and I have decided, we're taking the fight to Volkov. On our terms, not his."
This rouses her slightly, concern sharpening her gaze. "What does that mean?"
"It means we have resources he doesn't know about. Connections he can't anticipate." I brush my thumb across her lower lip. "Torch has been reaching out to his old contacts. We've got a line on where Volkov's organization operates out of New York. We're building a plan."
"That sounds dangerous," she murmurs, fighting to stay awake now as the medication takes hold.
"For him, not for us." I ease us back down onto the pillows, tucking her against me. "All you need to worry about is healing. Let me handle Volkov."
Her hand finds mine, fingers intertwining weakly. "Don't leave me," she pleads, the words slurring slightly.
"Never," I vow, pressing my lips to her forehead. "Sleep now. I'll be right here when you wake up."
Her breathing deepens as the medication pulls her under, her body finally relaxing completely against mine. I continue holding her, my mind racing with plans and contingencies, ways to ensure she never has to wake up screaming again.
Because the truth is, I've been having nightmares too. Dreams where I don't reach her in time, where the gun against her head fires before I can stop it, where I watch the light leave her eyes as Volkov laughs.
I haven't told her about my dreams. She has enough to deal with without taking on my trauma too. But lying here in the darkness, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest against mine, I make a silent promise.
Volkov will pay for every tear she's shed, every scream that's torn from her throat, every moment of fear he's caused her. I don't care what it costs me. I don't care what lines I have to cross. He's a dead man walking, he just doesn't know it yet.
I press another kiss to Livie's forehead, her features peaceful now in drugged sleep. "I love you," I whisper, though I know she can't hear me. "And I'm going to end this. For both of us."
Outside the window, dawn is just beginning to break, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. A new day. Another chance to reclaim what Volkov tried to take from us—our sense of safety, our peace of mind, our future.
I carefully extract myself from Livie's arms, making sure she's still deeply asleep before I slip from the bed. There's a call I need to make, one I've been putting off. But after tonight, after seeing what this is doing to her, I can't wait any longer.
I grab my phone and step into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. The number I dial isn't saved in my contacts, it's too risky, but I've memorized it nonetheless.
It rings three times before a gruff voice answers. "This better be important."
"It's Reed," I say quietly, keeping my voice low so it won't carry. "I need that favor you owe me."
A pause, then a low whistle. "Must be serious if you're calling it in after all this time."
"It is." I lean against the sink, eyes fixed on my reflection in the mirror. The bandage on my temple, the dark circles under my eyes, the hardness that's settled into my features. "I need everything you can get me on a Russian mob boss named Volkov. Operates out of New York, high-level organized crime."
"Jesus, Reed. You don't start small, do you?" Despite the complaint, I can hear movement on the other end, the tap of computer keys. "This guy's connected. Dangerous."
"I know exactly how dangerous he is," I reply, my voice dropping to a low growl. "That's why I'm calling you. I need to know his weaknesses, his habits, his hiding places. Everything."
Another pause, longer this time. "This is personal, isn't it?"
I think of Livie's scream tearing through the night, the terror in her eyes when she woke. "Very."
