Page 33 of The Butcher
“Hi,” I said breathlessly. “I just needed some air.” A lump formed in my throat when he took a step closer. Alexei was silent for long seconds. “I didn’t expect you to be home yet.”
“I finished what I needed to, so I came straight here,” he replied, stepping closer. “I needed to see you.”
His gaze moved over my face slowly, and I knew there was no point pretending I hadn’t been somewhere I wasn’t meant to be. I was a shitty liar, and my poker face was laughable. His expression, even as stoic as ever, told me he already knew something was wrong.
“What’s wrong, moya devochka?” he asked, his tone was even and controlled, but softer when he said the endearment.
“I found a file on your desk,” I said, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.
The words came out fast, and I felt that flicker of guilt for going through something that wasn’t mine, but I didn’t take it back. He was my husband.
In this world, there were things wives were expected not to ask about, not to look into, but I had never been good at pretending I didn’t see what was right in front of me.
“It had names,” I continued, forcing myself to stay steady. “Dates. Places. I don’t know exactly what I was looking at, but it didn’t feel like normal business. My head’s been going in circles trying to make sense of it.”
Alexei didn’t speak, but his expression was open, and I knew he wanted me to continue.
I let out a slow breath before continuing. “It looked like… people,” I said. “There were names with ages next to some of them. Different locations. Dates that lined up like they were being moved from one place to another. And the money… it wasn’t set up like business accounts, but like it was tied to each name.”
I should have been terrified admitting all of this to Alexei.But, I wasn’t.
I paused, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’ve heard enough over the years to know what that can mean. The way men talk when they think no one’s listening, the things they don’t explain but don’t bother hiding either. It looked like people being handled like something you could buy, move, and pass along.” I swallowed, my chest tightening. “So yeah… my mind went there. And if that’s even close to what it is, I can’t just pretend I didn’t see it.”
I held his gaze when I said all of that even though part of me didn’t want to hear the answer. He didn’t respond right away. He just watched me, taking in every word, every reaction, like he always did when something mattered.
“You read all of it?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And you understood it?”
“Not all of it,” I admitted. “But enough to know it’s not something… good.”
He stepped closer then, closing the space between us until I could feel the heat of him. His hand came up, settling against my jaw before sliding to the side of my neck. The touch was firm and pulled me out of my own head.
“Look at me,” hesaid quietly.
I hadn’t realized I’d looked away until he gave me the low, commanding order.
“I don’t want you involved in the ugly side of this world, but I know I can’t shield you from it all,” he continued. “Do you understand me?”
I swallowed. “That’s not what I was asking.”
“I know,” he said, his thumb brushing slowly against my skin. “And I’m not going to lie to you. There are operations that move people. Some are worse than others. Some don’t give those people a choice. That’s the truth of this world.”
My heart was racing now, an unspoken question hanging on the tip of my tongue.
“But I’m not involved in that, Lucia. My family isn’t involved in that ugly side of business."
His voice stayed low, and just hearing that had me exhaling fast and hard in relief.
I searched his face, trying to read if he was lying to placate me, if he was giving me something easier to hold on to.
“It’s a tracking ledger,” he said. “Routes, movement, and people tied to those routes. Workers, couriers, and contacts. It looks ugly on paper if you don’t know what you’re looking at, but it’s not what you’re thinking.”
I didn’t answer right away. Part of me wanted tobelieve him without question. Another part of me needed it to make sense. “And you’re telling me that’s all it is?” I asked quietly.
“I’m telling you I wouldn’t keep something like that under my own roof if it was what you’re afraid of,” he said, his voice steady, not defensive, not dismissive. “Not with you here. I would never lie to you. You ask me something, you get the truth. Always.”
