Page 19 of Fury

“.. . so as you see, the death certificates should be taken care of in a matter of days.” Randall’s voice sounded more monotone than not as he went over the necessary details he’d come to discuss. “My connections here are helping speed the process along. Your parents had no outstanding debts either, so that helps as well. And of course, the funeral will be held three days from today. I know you’re aware of that, but still.”

Sitting here in the living room, Hollyn felt numb. She burrowed back against the soft sofa, staring at the vanilla candle she’d lit on the end table. The small flame flickered and danced, and every now and then gave a small pop.

Weariness pressed down on her. She and Davis had been listening to Randall for the last hour about how he was working on taking care of all the paperwork related to her parents’ deaths. And she was thankful. Really was. But she couldn’t handle much more of this. On top of everything else, she was still shaken up from the attack the night before.

After the break-in, the local police had said they’d find whoever was responsible, but it hadn’t stopped her mind from reeling at every sound during the night. She felt so vulnerable. Even running a virtual screen through the house security system hadn’t turned up answers as to how the guy had gotten into the house without triggering the alarm.

At Davis’s feet, Fury lay, looking relaxed. But his keen gaze roamed over Hollyn and Randall. Watching. Waiting. Seeing if they were friend or foe?

“Thanks, Cooper.” Davis’s voice broke the silence that had fallen over the room.

Hollyn slid her gaze to him.

A mixture of concern and frustration clouded his face. He hadn’t changed much since she’d last seen him. Except maybe filled out a little. The dark stubble on his jaw added another layer of striking good looks to him. Still, his ring finger sat glaringly empty. Why?

Davis cleared his throat, and she realized she’d been staring.

What would Dad say? He’d probably smile knowingly and see how things played out. He’d never made his hopes that the two of them would end up together a secret.

Oh, Dad . . .

Back then, Hollyn had been caught up in her crush on Davis. How many times had she scrawledHollyn Ledgerin her notebooks? An embarrassing number.

Hollyn rubbed her forehead as she nearly lost her grip on precarious emotions. Her limbs each weighed a thousand pounds. People weren’t lying when they said grief was heavy. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

Randall, ever the gentleman, let her lapse in focus slide. “Just that the police have almost finished processing your parents’ things that were in the car and should be releasing them this afternoon. I can pick everything up and bring it here. You should also be aware that there was a break-in at the lab the night of the gala.”

“There was?” Hollyn’s heart clenched.

Another violation of her personal space, since the lab had practically been a second home to her. The one place she could relax and be herself. Archie’d told her many times that he felt the same way. While Leila was Hollyn’s closest friend, she and Archie were most alike. Both lifelong geeks and still good-standing members of the Socially Awkward Club.

“They reported nothing stolen, and repairs are underway,” Randall went on. “But we thought it was important for you to know.”

Hollyn’s brow furrowed. What washappening? Break-in at the lab. Break-in at her home. The world was no safer as an adult than as a child.

“Thanks for letting us know,” Davis said.

In control and unshakeable. Just as he’d always been. She admired his calmness. Craved the stability of it.

“Of course.” Randall reached for his leather briefcase.

“Is Isayus dead too?” Hollyn was well aware how callous that sounded, but she didn’t have the strength to ask in a more tactful way.

“He is.”

Numb still, she nodded. “And have you heard from Bongani?” He and Isayus had been close friends. He must be devastated too.

“Not at this time,” Randall said. “Do you want me to reach out?”

“That’s okay.” She’d call him herself.

Davis looked to her. “Who are they?”

Hollyn was getting wearier by the minute. “Bongani is our driver—um,mydriver”—the metaphorical dagger in her heart cut deeper—“and Isayus would fill in on Bongani’s days off or under special circumstances.”

He seemed to mull that over. “But Bongani wasn’t driving that night? Why?”

“He drove us there, but then came down sick during the gala.”

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