Page 65 of Fury
"So do we," I cut him off. "Families you insulted and attacked. Families who showed remarkable restraint by only giving your wives split lips and bloody noses."
"Next time," Zach adds, his voice deceptively soft, "there won't be restraint. Next time, we won't be having a conversation. We'll be digging holes."
The threat hangs in the air, crystal clear without being explicit enough to constitute a crime if recorded.
"Are we understanding each other?" I ask, straightening up.
Four heads nod frantically.
"Good." I step back. "One more thing. Dr. Xavier Blane is under our protection now. Permanently. If any of you so much as looks at him wrong, if we hear one more slur or threat…" I let the sentence hang, unfinished.
"We understand," James whispers.
"Excellent." I adjust my cut. "Then our business is concluded. Enjoy the rest of your day, gentlemen."
As we turn to leave, Techy pauses. "Oh, and those garden gnomes? Our women found them like that. If you try to press charges or cause any more trouble, we might have to get creative ourselves. We're much less… restrained… than our ladies."
The look of pure terror on their faces is deeply satisfying.
Now, watching Livie absorb the version of events I told her, I search her face for disapproval or fear. Instead, I find something that looks almost like satisfaction.
"So, they won't be bothering any of us again," she concludes, leaning into my side.
"Not if they value their lives," Zach confirms, grabbing a beer from the fridge. "Though I'm still disappointed we didn't get to be more persuasive."
"Violence isn't always necessary," Kyle reminds him, ever the voice of reason. "Fear works just as well, with fewer legal complications."
Livie looks up at me, her unbruised eye sparkling with mischief. "Bethany's husband really pissed himself?"
I can't help the grin that spreads across my face. "All over his expensive leather chair. Right after I explained exactly what would happen if his wife ever came near you again."
She laughs, and the sound eases something tight in my chest. This woman—this fierce, beautiful creature who fought for our family last night—understands our world in a way I'd feared she never would. She doesn't flinch at the darker aspects of MC life. She embraces them.
"What about Xavier?" she asks, glancing at Zach, whose expression shifts at the doctor's name. "Is he okay after everything last night?"
Something flickers across Zach's face, something private and intense. "He's fine. I made sure of it."
"We should celebrate," Torch declares, raising his beer. "The princesses kicked ass, we put the fear of God into some deserving assholes, and nobody got arrested. I call that a win."
"Family dinner at the compound tonight," I decide, looking around at these men who dropped everything to defend our women. "Both clubs. Let's show our ladies how proud we are of them."
As the others voice their agreement, my phone buzzes with a text. I check it, my body tensing as I read the message from one of our informants.
"Everything okay?" Livie asks, immediately sensing the change in my demeanor.
I lock my phone, forcing my expression to remain neutral. "Fine. Just club shit."
But it's not fine. The text was a warning—Diane has been spotted in town, skulking around the edges of our territory.
I glance at my woman, her face bruised from defending our family, her eyes bright with belonging. She's finally found her place here, finally embraced this life. I won't let anyone—not Diane, not some mob enforcers—take that from her.
The celebration will go on as planned. But afterward, the real work begins. Because protecting what's mine isn't just about confronting some country club husbands who don't know any better.
It's about eliminating threats before they can touch what I love.
And Diane has just moved to the top of that list.
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