Page 31 of Fury

“Is this legal?” I breathe.

“Does it matter?”

I guess not.

I take the gun from his hands, running my fingers over the light silver barrel. It’s lighter than the one he taught me on, but something about holding it in my hand makes me feel like the strongest person in the world. I look up at him, and I hope he can see the appreciation in my eyes, because what he has done for me today ... There are no words.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice genuine and soft. “I know I probably don’t deserve what you’ve done for me today, but I do appreciate it.”

“I know,” he murmurs, handing me a little box to put the gun in. “Load it the same way I taught you. Keep it hidden. Do not, and I mean do-fuckin’-not put this anywhere he can find it. Not ever.”

I nod, bringing the box close to my chest.

The wind flicks my hair over my face, and before I can reach for it, Fury stretches an arm out and tucks it behind my ear, lingering there for a long, breathtaking moment. Hanging onto the air in my lungs, our eyes lock, and there is so much I want to do, but I know that I’d be foolish to ever consider doing it.

“Tell me what he has on you that keeps you so loyal.”

I bite my lower lip, heart jerking into a galloping beat. “What makes you think he has something on me?”

“There just doesn’t seem to be any other reason I can think of why a woman as smart as you would stay with a man like that.”

Oh, if only it were that simple, then the world wouldn’t be full of domestic abuse.

But it isn’t that simple.

It’s never that simple.

“I have to go,” I say, trying to change the subject. “Thanks for today.”

“I can help you,” he goes on, ignoring me. “You would be surprised the things I can make disappear. You can trust me, you can trust the club, we can help free you from this situation.”

Could he?

Is that even a possibility?

I wish I could believe it was, but I just don’t see how they could make this go away.

I open my mouth, the words desperate to come out, but I quickly close it again.

I can’t bring myself to do it, to say it, to take the risk.

It could end so badly for me.

“I should go.”

“Alexis,” he calls when I turn.

I stop, but I don’t look back at him.

“I can make it go away.”

I’m starting to think he really believes that.

And oh, how I wish it was true.

“I wish you could,” I call out. “I really do.”

Then, I get into my car with my gun tucked safely on the seat beside me, and I drive away, not looking back.

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