Page 24 of Raven

“Eleven o’clock. Gun barrels between the boarded-up windows,” Skiba says.

“They have people all over,” James hisses through his teeth. “We need reinforcement.”

Slowly, I pull out the phone and text Butcher.

Me: I have men with grenades watching. Tell your hounds to cool it.

“Fuck me,” James murmurs, scanning the nearby buildings as we pass two blocks and halt at the restaurant.

Skiba spits on the ground. “Fuck us all. Is that how it’s going to be from now on?”

Yep.

Butcher is not interested in getting rid of me just yet. He is looking for ways to infiltrate Ayana to ensure he can cease the power if I’m gone rather than being completely shut away from it.

We stop by the restaurant tables with no intention to sit down or make this conversation longer than needed.

And here, rounding the corner is Butcher in his signature cowboy hat, button-up shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. His dark mustache partially hides his smile. His thumbs under his beer belly are tucked under the jeweled belt. Leisurely, he walks up toward us and stops several feet away. There are two armed men on each side of him, and another handful are lined up behind him.

Slowly, he removes his sunglasses and mockingly studies me up and down.

“My-my. A bulletproof vest?” He feigns surprise, looking between his guards who chuckle, amused. “Am I under arrest?” They chuckle louder. “And grenades? My men simply make sure no one around here hurts you. I am invested in our friendship, but the negative sentiments against Ayana in Port Mrei lately are growing. Surely, you understand.”

He makes a sad face that I want to punch.

Friendship, my ass. It turns my insides seeing him blame the rest of the town and the Ashlands, whereas everyone knows that nothing in this town happens without his approval.

If Butcher wanted to kill me, he would’ve done it a long time ago, Zion security or not. A bullet in the head is fast. It took me a while to figure out why Butcher didn’t.

You see, while we made deals with contractors and protected the world’s most promising drug conjured in the Center’s lab, Butcher had his own game going on. After the Change, Butcher was patient, waiting for Ayana and Gen-Alpha to be in their prime. The Savages were his army meat. Everyone else was just collateral. His eyes were on the weapons trade. And the real deal was back east, Russia and the Middle East.

Tsariuk wanted his daughter. Butcher wanted to be a king. Milena or not, Butcher wanted to get ahold of Ayana and make sure that Russia had deep interest in Zion besides a mafia princess, being so close to the mainland and all, and then become the most convenient buffer territory between the East and the US.

Butcher’s ambitions are larger than being the mayor of Port Mrei. Screw wealth. He wants power. And I suspect that he is somehow involved with Tsariuk.

“How are you, Mis-ter Le-vi?” Butcher asks with seemingly warm concern.

That’s his charm. He looks approachable, like a super-host. Unless you know that he once drilled a hole in a guy’s skull because the guy got drunk and interrupted his dinner.

“As good as can be, considering the circumstances.”

“What are the circumstances?” Butcher feigns concern. His voice is always even and business-like, lacking any variation in pitch. He is calm as a python.

He is a hard man to talk to, mainly because he is slippery like an eel. And lethal.

“Occasional attacks by mysterious individuals,” I say.

“That’s unfortunate.” Butcher shakes his head with a frown. But his smile doesn’t quite go away. That’s his signature smile—more like a permanent scowl. “I would like to apologize for what happened to our Chancellor and his lady.”

I don’t respond. He is scum, but smart. There’s nothing worse than a smart, morally twisted man in power. That’s why Archer lets me deal with Butcher. Archer isn’t used to scum.

“Perhaps you can tell me to what I owe the pleasure of seeing you today?” he asks. “It’s been a while. You seem to have lost interest in us.”

Far from it. There’s nothing I can say that he doesn’t know. But I need to get him talking.

“We have an issue with your people sabotaging our security system.”

“I can’t control everyone in this town.”

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