Page 43 of The Butcher
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I said, my voice even.
He stilled for a second, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard me right.
“I take what belongs to me,” I continued. “I run what I build. I don’t take what’s not mine.”
His expression shifted, confusion cutting through the panic. “It’s money,” he said, sharper now.
“That’s all it is. It moves the same as anything else. You’re already in this world. Don’t act like you’re above it.”
It was then I knew for a fact he was talking about the trafficking. “That isn’t business,” I said. “That’s rot. I don’t let it near what’s mine.”
Especially not near her. Lucia was the only clean thing I had left. The only thing worth protecting from the filth I lived in.
Something in his face broke then, whatever confidence he had left cracking under it. “You’re lying to yourself,” he snapped, anger pushing through now that the bargain wasn’t working. “Youthink you’re different? You think killing men makes you better than me?”
“No,” I said. “But I’m the one still standing.”
He tried to pull against my hold, but there was nothing behind it. “You could have had everything,” he said, his voice turning raw. “We could have owned it all.”
I leaned in just enough that he had no choice but to hold my gaze. “You were never going to build anything,” I said. “You were never going to own anything. You don’t have the control for it.”
His panic gave way to hysteria and a burst of rage.“You don’t scare me,” he pushed, even as his voice shook. “You think killing me fixes anything? There’s always someone else.” He coughed, wheezed, and gagged for air. “I know you. I know who you are. The Butcher. The killer of the Drakovichs.” The fucker smiled, a grotesque one that was full of arrogance. “You think I'm stupid. But I did my fucking research on all of you.”
I tightened my hand around his throat now, cutting off more of his air, but not enough that he didn’t run his mouth.
“And that pretty little wife of yours?” he sneered, blood flecking his lips. “Half-sister or not, I’ll use her to get my way. One phone call and I can have herdragged back where she belongs. She’ll scream your name while my men take turns breaking her in. She’ll beg for death before I’m done with her.”
That was the line. Something inside me snapped clean in two. The Butcher took over completely. I didn’t let him finish. The blade went in slow this time, deep enough that he felt it before anything else. His body went rigid, his breath catching in a broken sound as it sank in, and I held him there long enough to make sure he understood exactly what was happening.
“You don’t speak about her,” I snarled, twisting the knife deeper, carving through organs and feeling hot blood pour over my hand. “This is what happens when you reach for what’s mine.”
His body started to give under my hand, the fight leaving him piece by piece.
“You don’t get a second chance to learn that.” I twisted the knife and felt everything inside him give way. His eyes went wide for a second longer before the last of it left him completely, and I held him there until I knew it was done before letting him drop.
The room stayed quiet after that, as I just stared down at Alessio’s corpse. I wiped the blade clean on his shirt, and stepped back, taking in what was left for another moment. This wasn’t a war and it wasn’ta message. He had stepped into something he didn’t understand and taken from the wrong man, and now there was nothing left of him to make that mistake again.
I turned and walked out without looking back, because this was what I had been made for, and this was what I did best.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Alexei
By the time I got back to the house, everything was already in motion.
My men didn’t need instructions on how to clean up. The call had gone out as soon as it was finished, and now the rest of it was being handled the way it always was. Bodies would be removed, the building cleared, and anything that tied back to us erased before the sun came up. No mistakes. No loose ends.
I stepped inside and moved through the entryway without stopping, already pulling my jacket off and hanging it on the hook by the door. One of the men passed me with a phone pressed to his ear, giving quiet instructions, his voice low and controlled. Another came from the back hall, alreadyhalfway through coordinating the next part of cleanup. They didn’t stop me or ask questions.
Alessio was finished. That was all that mattered. I’d called my father on the way home, and simply said, “It’s done.”
I went straight upstairs, not slowing until I reached my room. The door closed silently behind me, shutting out the rest of the house. I took my time cleaning up, stripping out of my clothes, and washing away what was left of the night. Water ran red for a few seconds before it cleared, the heat steady against my skin as I made sure nothing was left behind. It wasn’t about hiding it. It was about not wanting Lucia to see this part of me.
The Butcher’s hands were still stained with the blood of the man who had dared threaten her. I scrubbed harder than I needed to, trying to wash away the violence before I touched her.
When I was done, I changed into clean clothes and left the bathroom. I stopped, seeing Lucia sitting up in bed, the lamp on and casting a low, soft light across her perfect face. Her gaze was already locked on me, moving over me slowly, taking everything in. She didn’t speak right away. She just watched me, quiet and focused, like she had been waiting and already knew what she was looking for.
Her gaze dropped slightly, catching on something I hadn’t noticed.
