Page 8 of Fury

Leila put her perfectly manicured hands on her hips. Her smooth, dark-brown hair swished with each shake of her head. “What you don’t have is a good excuse. Besides, that’s what shopping is for. So . . . ” She dragged out the word, one eyebrow arching. “You’ve been locked away in that lab for at least a year having no fun.”

Hollyn heard Dad trying to suppress a laugh. She couldn’t expect Leila to understand that the labwasfun for her. Her friend preferred partying in a new destination every night and racking up massive spa bills and shopping sprees, which her billion-dollar family trust paid for. Jetting off to tropical islands or snowcapped ski lodges on a whim was typical for her.

But shehadmade a good point. Hollyn hadn’t taken a night off in . . . well, she’d just call it a long time.

Still . . .

“I don’t know.” She played with the necklace Dad had just given her, finger brushing the gold silhouette on the side.

“Go on, Sparrow,” Dad said. “Your mother has been bugging me for a weekend in the Caribbean for years.”

“Years?” Mum scoffed. “Try decades.”

Their laughter was interrupted by the Mercedes behind them honking long and loud. Clearly fed up with the delay.

Leila threw up her hands at the driver. “Hey! She’s making a decision, okay? Keep your pants on!” When she turned her attention back to Hollyn, her scowl was instantly replaced by a sweet smile. “I’ve got plenty of clothes waiting on the jet. You can change into something until we get to Switzerland.”

“Yeah.” Hollyn huffed a laugh. “You forget I’ve seen the kind of things you wear when you’re not at a gala.”

Their senses of style couldn’t be more different. The one-shouldered, glitzy number was mild compared to the revealing outfits Leila normally donned.

Leila rolled her eyes. She swung the car door wide and practically yanked Hollyn out. “You can buy anI Love the Swiss AlpsT-shirt to cover up, okay? Let’s go.” Leila shoved her toward the sports car, turning back last minute to wave at Hollyn’s parents. “I’ll take good care of her.”

“We expect nothing less.” Though Mum’s voice was lighthearted, the undercurrent in her tone warned she was also serious.

“I love you guys,” Hollyn called and waved as she was pushed toward her friend’s sports car.

“Love you,” her parents replied in unison.

Leila whipped her Drako in front of another car after Isayus pulled away. She sped onto Corniche Street in the midst of honking horns like it was the Indy 500.

This was going to be an adventure.

So why did Hollyn have a gnawing in the pit of her stomach?

2

USAG BAVARIA GRAFENWÖHR, GERMANY

“We’re sorry.The board recommends a medical separation.”

Davis shook his head, remembering the words of the physician from the Medical Evaluation Board meeting. He stormed down the corridor of the USAG building, replaying the meeting where they’d just deep-sixed his career. He punched open the double doors. They hit the wall with force. Earned him a couple hard looks from soldiers walking by.

In a single moment, his poor judgment call had destroyed years of blood, sweat, and hard work. Worse, killed his best friend. Blood that would always be on his hands. He couldn’t even honor Luke’s memory by trying to salvage his career and do better. Four months of pushing himself to the limit in rehab hadn’t made a difference—evidence that decisions had lasting consequences. But he deserved this.

Davis jammed his cover back on his head.

What was left for him now? Luke, dead. Reza, dead. His career, dead. Fury?—

He whirled and drove his fist into the brick wall of the building. Pain ricocheted through his knuckles all the way up to his bum shoulder. But the pain felt good. Better that than the numbness that kept creeping over him. Dragging him under.

No use taking it easy on his arm now.

“Please accept our thanks for your service.”

Anger surged as he recalled the brush-off. He clenched his jaw. Stalked toward the parking lot.

The hearing that ended his career—and any hope for his future—had been insultingly quick. In and out. Tossed aside like years of his service meant nothing. Just another name on the docket. It hurt. More than he wanted to admit. More than the shrapnel ever had.

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