Page 109 of Raven

I’ll fucking kill him. “She is none of your business.”

He pouts his lips as if offended. “You are my business, Raven. I hope you don’t get your hopes all up for someone like her. She comes from a different place.”

I don’t interrupt. I’m sure he is getting to a point.

“You and me, we are not like them. We don’t get blinded by promises of a bright future when we know that this world is a giant pond of shit.”

Wrong, but he is on a roll.

“You assume you are worthy of her. Or anyone at that resort. But you are a nobody who reached blinding heights. She? She might be playing Cinderella, but she is a princess, one of the Elites, isn’t she? She grew up kicking peasants like you around."

He is saying all the right things. My question is why he is fixated on Maddy. Unless he knows. If he knows, that means he is connected to Tsariuk. If Tsariuk knows, well… Fuck…

“I need to speak with Mr. Chancellor, and I need to do that while you are here,” Butcher says.

I bait him. “Are you going to tell him that one of his former guards who committed murder and escaped is working for you now?”

Butcher laughs but doesn’t even turn in Cunningham’s direction.

Cunningham doesn’t say anything either, his gloating stare on me.

Scumbag.

Butcher locks his hands at his belly and cocks his head as he watches the seagulls, his gaze roaming the guard tower while at it.

“You see, Raven, you have no proof of who committed the crime.” He turns to study the other tower, so fucking calm it pisses me off. “And guards are allowed to breach their contracts and change jobs.”

“Not true. They are supposed to breach them legally. And leave Ayana.”

“Semantics. There are a lot of illegal things going on at Ayana. You”—he shifts his gaze at me—“should know. You are the king of”—he rounds his eyes for emphasis—“the darknet,” he says in a spooky voice.

“We have a separate protocol for traitors.”

“Your pretty resort is full of traitors,” Butcher says.

My blood boils. I can’t stand his self-entitled wisdom.

“So, Mr. Crone,” Butcher reminds me.

I pick up my phone and dial Archer. When he picks up, I say, “You are on speaker. Butcher wants to talk to you.”

“Mr. Crone!” Butcher says. “You realize that all this chaos is happening because you are waltzing around the issues that need to be resolved. Issues with some powerful people.”

At first, I think he is talking about himself. What a narcissist, and openly at that. But when Archer is quiet, Butcher lifts his eyes at me, that sleazy smile on his lips as he says, “I had a chat with Mr. Tsariuk earlier today.”

Instantly, my mind is on full alert. Can’t be.

Butcher narrows his eyes on me, gauging the effect of his words on me.

“From my conversation with him, I got a feeling that there is some sort of misunderstanding between you two, no?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Archer finally says.

“Oh.” Butcher widens his eyes in mock surprise. “My bad. He didn’t clarify. I assumed that you two talk.”

“What do you have to do with Tsariuk?”

“Oh, just business. I’m a small pawn, but he was interested in a buffer territory for moving some shipments through Zion.”

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