His Fury (Fractured Loyalties #2)

1. Isla

CHAPTER 1

ISLA

I wasn’t supposed to feel this way—cold sweat slicking my palms, heart racing loud enough to drown out reason. I was so nervous, and I hadn’t even gotten in the car, never mind getting to Zayn’s place, regardless of my building a shield of determination around me, every excuse, every plea, every calculated word ready to roll off my tongue. Only to get a text he wasn’t even there.

Where else would he be?

Was he with someone? A woman? My stomach twisted at the thought, envy flaring hot and sharp beneath my ribs. I licked my lips, shoving the surge of jealousy away. I had moved on. Remember, Isla?

I turned on my heel and made it two steps back towards my apartment when a figure caught my attention at the edge of my vision. I saw a guy on his phone as he approached in my direction—broad-shouldered, dark clothes, a phone pressed to his ear. He was staring right at me, and I felt my chest tighten in apprehension as he got closer.

I fired off a quick text to Julian, turning when I heard a sound behind me, startled at how close the guy on his phone was.

“Hi? Are you lost?” I asked, the words shaky, a poor imitation of confidence.

His voice was low and smooth and far too certain. “Got her.”

I froze. My blood ran ice-cold, and every instinct shrieked at once. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out reason, my body locked in fright as my mind shouted run . He ended the call with a click that echoed in the stillness, the sound of finality loud.

“Isla Wells?” he asked although his tone said he already knew the answer.

I swallowed, forcing steel into my spine. It was too late to run. “Who wants to know?”

His mouth curled into a humorless smile. “Come quietly, and you won’t get hurt.”

Panic surged, raw and unfiltered. I took a step back, my boot catching the edge of a cracked paving stone, and the man’s eyes narrowed, patience thinning. “I wouldn’t,” he warned. “We’ve got eyes all over. You make this difficult, someone gets hurt. You don’t want that.”

Someone? Or me ? I clenched my fists, fighting to keep my voice steady. “You think I’m going anywhere with you?”

He sighed, almost pitying. “Your choice,” he murmured, gesturing subtly. Two more men emerged from across the street, appearing like apparitions—broad, unsmiling, and looking far too capable.

My stomach dropped. I bit back a curse, eyes darting for escape routes and finding none. Trapped. Panic clawed at the edges of my control, but I swallowed it down. Control was all I had now, and if I fell apart, I was done .

“Fine,” I bit out, lifting my chin. “Lead the way.”

The man smirked, gesturing smoothly for me to walk ahead. My legs felt wooden, and every step felt like a betrayal as I moved past him, my pulse thundering in my ears. The two guys crossed the road, and I shivered despite the balmy evening air.

Think, Isla. Think.

I took a breath, forcing down the terror, the questions, and the crushing realization that no one was here to pull me out of this mess. Who were they? Who had he told that he got me? Had he got me, or had I given him me?

Fear that had been so paralyzing now surged through my body like a rush of adrenaline, and I acted without thinking.

I bolted.

My sudden dash surprised the second guy, and I ran right past him. Thank God I had decided to go to Zayn wearing sensible flat-heeled boots. They weren’t sneakers, but I could run.

I ran like the wind, but sports was never my thing. I kept fit by running around events all day, not actually running. Despite his size, the guy who grabbed me wasn’t even winded. His arms locked around me like steel bands, crushing the air from my lungs.

“Get the door,” he barked, his voice rough and irritated.

I kicked and twisted, my nails clawing at his forearm, but it was useless. The more I struggled, the tighter his grip became.

The car door swung open, and I was shoved inside with a force that knocked the breath from my chest. My palms scraped against the leather seat, raw and stinging, as the door slammed shut behind me. I lunged for the handle, but a heavy hand caught my wrist, yanking me back .

“Settle down,” one of them growled, his face shadowed but eyes glinting coldly.

As the engine roared to life and the car pulled away, I twisted in my seat, my vision swimming. I looked out the window and watched the streets blur past, hoping desperately someone had seen something and was calling the police.

What had Zayn done, and how did it involve me?

The unspoken question tightened my throat, suffocating, pressing against my ribs with every breath. I was in over my head. And I had no idea how I was going to get out of this.

The car sped through Gracemont, shadows twisting outside the tinted windows. My wrists ached where rough hands had grabbed them, and my nails bit half-moon imprints into my palms as I held my hands in fists at my sides.

The men didn’t speak, and I was too scared to utter a word. The silence was oppressive—punctuated only by the rumble of the engine and my own shallow breaths. The driver’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror once, twice, as if to check I wasn’t about to do anything stupid.

I hadn’t even made it far when I ran, but what did he think I was going to do? Lunge myself out of a moving vehicle? As if I would even get that far.

It was completely ludicrous, but that didn’t stop me eyeing the door handle and wondering if I could make it….

“I wouldn’t.”

I met his cool stare in the rearview mirror and said nothing. I didn’t confirm or deny, and I saw the gleam in his eye, which told me that my silence told him everything.

I forced my breathing steady, pressing my back into the leather seat, my jaw clenched tight enough to hurt. Panicking would do nothing but fuel their satisfaction.

Stay calm. Breathe. Think .

They hadn’t tied my hands or blindfolded me. That had to mean something, didn’t it? Hope flickered for a moment and then fizzled out. They hadn’t tied me because they weren’t worried about me getting away.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to let these bastards see me cry.

I focused on the driver’s side profile. From the stares in the rearview mirror, I knew he had cold blue eyes. Shifting slightly in my seat, I turned to face him better. He had a scar on his jaw, and the flesh was puckered, which meant it was either old or larger than I could see. I repeated the few characteristics I could see, light-blond hair, blue eyes, and a scar; he was so stereotypically a bad guy that I was sure the police sketch artist would draw him better than I could describe if I made it out of this. When I made it out of this.

The car turned sharply, the wheels squealed in protest, and I was thrown against the door with a muffled gasp. My shoulder throbbed, but I bit down on the pain, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing my discomfort or my panic.

I glanced outside at the street, and while the landmarks were familiar, it was not an area I visited often. Abandoned warehouses with chain-link fences topped with barbed wire came into view. My heart rate picked up until I was sure I was having palpitations. This was not the kind of place you came to at night if you valued your life.

“We’ve got her.”

I turned my attention back to the driver as he spoke into his phone, his voice low and gravel rough. “Yeah, ten minutes. Is he waiting?”

He? He? Who the fuck was he ?

My heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest. Was it… Could it be? Zayn was many things—reckless, ru thless, a liar when it suited him—but he wouldn’t do this to me. Would he?

No.

Never.

Except…who else would want me ? Had Zayn done something that taking me was the only option? God, it sounded so preposterous.

It might sound it, but it didn’t stop the fear inside me, uncoiling, hot and raw, and burning my insides, threatening to claw its way up my throat. I stared at my reflection in the window, with wide eyes and parted lips I looked like someone ready to pass out. I needed to be stronger.

The car slowed, engine growling low as it pulled through a gated entrance, and I was sure I was going to be sick. As the gate slid shut behind us with a hollow clang, I knew there was no way out. I was sealed inside with three men and had no clue what was waiting for me.

The car came to a stop. The warehouse looked abandoned, the windows dark and empty looking, and metal panels stained with rust added to the abandoned appearance. The guy in the passenger seat twisted to look at me, his smirk cruel. “Be smart,” he warned, his voice harsh. “Don’t scream. Don’t run. We don’t want this to get…unpleasant.”

“Because it’s been so charming up until now,” I snapped. Despite the tremor beneath, I glared at him, forcing ice into my tone. “Lead the way.”

The guy in the back with me pulled me out, his hands rough but not cruel, and he guided me across cracked asphalt toward the warehouse. The door creaked open, and every horror movie I had ever seen flashed across my mind’s eye.

This was not going to be good.

Inside, dim lights shone over hundreds of piled-high boxes. The men led me through them like it was their personal maze until we had the boxes behind us. As we got deeper into the warehouse, the lights buzzed brighter, casting eerie shadows over crates and stacks of wooden pallets.

The air was cold, tinged with old oil and rusted metal.

At the center of the room, half hidden in shadows, stood a man.

Not Zayn.

Despite the situation, the surge of relief I felt when I realized it wasn’t him made my knees weak, and I almost stumbled.

The man turned slowly as we approached, a smile curling on his lips. He was tall and broad with hair slicked back and eyes dark and sharp with amusement. I hadn’t expected him to be handsome. I was expecting an ogre. A beast of a man. Instead, this guy looked…cultured.

“Isla Wells,” he greeted. His voice was smooth and warm like poisoned honey, and his appearance was immaculate in a well-tailored suit. “You’re shorter than I expected.”

I gritted my teeth. “Who the hell are you? Why am I here?”

The man chuckled, a rich, lazy sound that set my nerves on edge. “A friend of a friend,” he drawled, his dark eyes glittering with a sinister light. “I must say, your description doesn’t do you justice. You are a beautiful-looking woman.”

I ignored the spike of fear as he looked me over, slower, more deliberate. “I asked why am I here?”

“Collateral.”

My blood turned to ice. Collateral?

“Collateral? For what?”

“You mean who?” He was laughing at me, and somehow that scared me more.

“You’ve got the wrong person,” I snapped at him, masking my fear with defiance. “I don’t know who you think I’m friends with or what you think I’m collateral for , but whatever it is, it has nothing to do with me.”

The man’s smile widened, showing all of his teeth. “Oh, but it has everything to do with you.” He stepped forward, his fingers trailing over the edge of a wooden crate, and I hoped the bastard got a splinter. “You see, your friend has a nasty habit of keeping his secrets close to his chest. I just figured…borrowing something of his might speed things along.”

My hands trembled, nails digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood. “I’m not anyone’s anything,” I spat. “I’m no one.”

He laughed again, dark and mocking. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.” He nodded to the two guys on either side of me, and they stepped forward, their hands curling around my arms.

I struggled, heart hammering. “Get off me!”

The man just watched, his eyes cold and amused. “No, I don’t think so. You stay here until I get what I’m owed. I’d behave if I were you. You won’t like it if I get angry.”

The guys who’d grabbed me pulled me back, dragging me to a door on the far side of the warehouse. The low heels of my boots scraped against the concrete, and my breaths came in short, shallow gasps as I fought the panic rising within me.

No, no, no?—

I twisted, kicking, my nails clawing at hands and arms, but they didn’t even flinch. The door opened, complete darkness greeted me, and they shoved me inside.

I hit the ground hard, my knees cracking against the concrete with a bolt of pain. The door slammed shut behind me, leaving me alone in the pitch-black, breaths loud and gasping in the sudden silence.

My teeth were chattering as shock crashed over me. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t push myself up off the ground. My eyes were useless in the complete darkness. I needed to get out of here.

How? Think, Isla. Think.

But all I could think of was Zayn—he hadn’t done this. Had he? Why would they take me because of Zayn? Who even knew I had been involved with him? No one.

Julian.

I squeezed my eyes shut, fury mingling with helplessness, as I ignored the tears running down my face while the certainty of sudden understanding settled over me like a weight.

Julian owed money.

A lot of money.

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, my fingers pressing into the concrete until they ached.

You stupid bastard .

If I got out of this, I’d kill him myself.

But first, I had to escape.

The darkness was suffocating—thick and impenetrable, pressing in from all sides. I forced a breath through clenched teeth, my fingers trembling as they brushed against the cold concrete floor, searching for anything I could use. My nails scraped futilely against the smooth, empty ground, and the terror I’d been shoving down flared hotter.

There was nothing. No windows, no cracks of light beneath the door, and no sound beyond my own ragged breathing. They shoved me into a room meant to contain, to crush my hope and my spirit.

I finally managed to stand, my body vibrating with fear, my legs shaky. I stumbled through the darkness to the door. I hadn’t heard it lock. Had they been so sure there was nowhere to run that they left it open ?

The door didn’t budge. I pushed against it harder. Nothing.

I was trapped in here. I bit down hard on my lip to stop the scream from escaping. The metallic tang of blood didn’t help ground me.

Think, Isla. You’re not dying here. You’re not.