Page 59 of Fury

“Do you think that’s enough to save you?”

I’m going to be sick.

“Get on your knees, Alexis.”

Lowering down, tears bursting forth and rolling down my cheeks, I get to my knees. My mind is numb, and it doesn’t seem to matter how many times I try to come up with a way out of this, I find myself empty. I’ve got nothing left, there is no other option. Ethan is going to kill me, and there isn’t a single damned thing I can do about it. Not a thing. I look up at him when my knees hit the gravelly parking lot, and I beg.

“Please,” I say, my voice soft. “I will give you your money back and I’ll disappear. You’ll never see me again. I’ll do anything, please.”

Ethan grins. “We’ve been here before, only you didn’t do as you promised. You tried to double cross me, to run, to disobey. Now, you’ll suffer because you’re nothing more than a thorn in my side.”

“Ethan.”

“Close your eyes, unless you want to watch me pull the trigger. Either way, it’ll be quick. I’ll give you that much.”

“Don’t,” I cry, my voice breaking as my entire body begins to tremble.

“I’ll count it down for you,” he goes on, so calm it’s terrifying. “One.”

“Please,” I try again, my voice growing more frantic.

“Two.”

“Ethan!” I scream. “Don’t.”

“Three.”

I clench my eyes shut, and a gun rings out.

My body flinches, but after a crippling few seconds, I realize ...

I haven’t been shot.

MY EYES POP OPEN, AND I stare in horror at the scene before me.

Ethan is slumped forward, blood pouring from the back of his head which has been blown wide open, and the gun is lying on the floor beside him. Whipping my head around, I expect to see someone from the club, but the men approaching me aren’t ones I’ve ever seen before. Someone just shot Ethan, and it isn’t someone I know. I can’t control my shaking as I remain frozen on my knees, shock consuming my body.

“You’re welcome.”

The smooth, incredibly strong accented Russian voice has my eyes moving to the man who stops in front of me.

Sucking in a breath, I tip my head back to take him in.

His black coat is what I notice first, long and whipping in the wind, like he’s right out of a movie.

Then, I take in his face.

Oh.

It is, without a doubt, the most incredible face I’ve ever laid eyes on. Not just in a handsome way, no, it’s because he looks like he has been chiseled out of fine stone, as if the gods sat down and took their time, carving him until he was the picture of the perfect man, strong and sleek, like a lion.

His hair is long, black, and thick, tied at the nape of his neck. His eyes, crystal blue, are set amongst creamy white skin. A dark beard shadows his face that is utterly perfect other than the scar that runs down it. Tattoos peek from his shirt, and while he’s not as bulky as Fury, his body is muscled and lean, yet still scarily powerful.

He’s beautiful.

“W-w-who are you?” I croak, still unable to move.

“Marek,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning Ethan. “He took things that belonged to me.”

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