Page 105 of His Fury

I turned to look at him, meeting his stare. “Zayn?”

“I made sure they know.”

I feel like I should hold my breath. “Who knows? Know what?”

He had been so calm, so serious when he answered. “That there’s a line.” He’d kissed the tip of my nose. “The kind you don’t cross without bleeding.”

I didn’t ask for details. Zayn didn’t offer them.

Should I have pushed? I didn’t know what to ask. All I knew was that whatever he had done it felt…final.

I slid out from under the covers, careful not to disrupt the room's sense of peace, and walked across the floor to the window. Looking out over the grounds behind the house, I watched the morning light struggle to break through the clouded, soft, gray sky.

It looked deceptively calm as if nothing had changed. But I knew it had. Zayn didn’t tell me what he’d done. He didn’t have to.

A line? What did that mean? Was it a line that shouldn’t be crossed? Because of me. Or was I the line?

I should’ve been grateful. Relieved. But all I could think about was the price he might have to pay. Or worse—the pricewemight pay. Turning away from the window, I reached for his hoodie, pulling it on and wrapping it tight around me. The same one he’d told me to put on instead of Rye’s.

It smelled like him. Wrapped around me like something steady. Familiar. Once, I believed safety was just part of life—a comforting lie we told ourselves when the world closed in.

But now I knew the truth.

The only real safety I had…was Zayn.

And that truth didn’t scare me anymore.

A soft knock pulled me from my thoughts. “Yeah?” My voice cracked.

The door opened just enough for Rye to appear, holding two mugs of coffee, eyes narrowed as they scanned the room. Always assessing.

“He told me not to bother you. But you’re up.” He set one of the mugs on the windowsill beside me. “He went into the club early.”

Early? Had he even slept? Looking at Rye, I wasn’t sure hehad either. I took the cup, grateful, and kept my thoughts to myself. “Thanks.”

Rye didn’t leave. Instead, he placed his mug down and crossed his arms. “You know what he did, right?”

I didn’t answer.

“I mean, maybe not the details,” he went on, watching me carefully. “But you get it now. What being with him really means.”

“I’m starting to.”

He tilted his head slightly. “And?”

I took a long sip, letting the warmth settle into the cold edges inside me. “And I’m still here.”

Rye’s jaw ticked as if he wanted to say more but thought better of it. Instead, he gave a sharp nod. “Then I hope you’re ready,” he muttered. “Because the fuckers won’t care why he claimed you. Only that he did.”

“Claimedme?” I asked, hearing the incredulity in my voice.

Rye let out a loud sigh. “You need a crash course, and we don’t have the time for you to take it.”

“Then what do I do?” I asked, feeling helpless.

“Stop letting JulianfuckingTurner into the house. And…be smarter.” Then Rye turned and walked out, taking his coffee cup with him.

I was stunned, and then I was pissed. Without thinking about it too much, I hurried after him. “Hey! Hey, dickhead!Stop.”

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