Page 52 of Beautifully Savage Butterfly

“And now it’s time to pay him a visit?” Orion guesses, and I nod.

He lets go of me, his face hardening a fraction as he drags his hand over his mouth.

“Do you have anything to drink?”

“Yeah.” He jerks his head for me to follow him.

Orion leads me to the small kitchenette attached to his living room. Without the distractions this time, I’m able to take a second to glance around the tiny apartment while he opens the cabinet above the refrigerator to pull out a bottle of whiskey. Honestly, the place isn’t a hell of a lot different from the mental picture I filled in from the quick look I got last time. It’s obvious he does his best to keep it up, everything neat and tidy. But there’s only so much you can shine a pile of shit.

Orion sets two shot glasses down on the counter in front of me and fills them both. Then he reaches for the one closest to himself and downs it in a quick gulp.

“So?” he prompts.

I pick up my glass and tip it back, letting the cheap whiskey burn on my tongue and all the way down my throat. It settles hot in my belly, but doesn’t do much to take the edge off of what I have to tell him.

“You remember those girls at the motel?”

His eyes light with understanding immediately, connecting all the dots in under a second. His expression goes from curious and annoyed to darkly furious in the blink of an eye.

“That’s what Casimir has been up to? Trafficking underaged girls?” He growls and pours us both a second shot.

“Looks like it. Selling them to pimps and pedos all over the city and fuck knows where else. Great way to make money if you’re a goddamn monster without a fucking soul,” I mutter, then I down the second shot, nudging the shot glass away when I set it down so I’m not tempted to have a third.

“What happens now?” Orion asks, his voice dipping lower than I thought was possible, raising goose bumps all down the back of my neck. “You get me to rough him up until he agrees to give you a cut of those profits? You put in a second bathroom in your penthouse with all the money you make off of the kids he’s buying and selling?”

I rear back like he’s slapped me. Worse than if he slapped me.

“Jesus Christ, is that seriously what you think?” Maybe I do need that third shot after all. I reach for the bottle and skip the niceties of the glass this time, taking a swig straight from it and gasping at the burn that doesn’t do near enough to cauterize the way Orion just cut me.

He dips his gaze and sets his jaw, quiet for a few seconds before he jerks his head back and forth. “Fuck, no, I don’t. I’m sorry.” He lets out a long breath. “I’m just… That’s so fucked up. Kids? What kind of inhuman garbage is willing to do that?”

“The worst kind,” I answer darkly. “As for what happens now, Xaviaro is staking out his apartment. He texted me a few minutes ago to let me know Casimir is home, alone, and if that changes, he’s going to let me know that too. Dante was able to find emails back and forth with his supplier, some Russian prick. But what we don’t know is when the next shipment is due and whether Casimir was working alone in Wildcliff.”

“So, we’re going to go over there and beat some answers out of him?” The eager edge in Orion’s voice this time would be concerning if it weren’t so fucking hot.

“You’re off the hook, Boss. Unless you actually want in on this. Xav can handle it. Getting answers out of Casimir the hard way would be like foreplay for him and Sparrow. Lorenzo is already on his way there too. Something this big going on under his nose in his city? He wants to see it handled.”

The muscle in his jaw works, and he stares at our empty shot glasses for a few silent seconds. Maybe weighing the price of his soul, or maybe coming to terms with the fact that there’s no such thing, and that right and wrong are all just shades of gray. When he looks up again, the determination is clear as day in his eyes.

“I want in.”

ORION

“This feels like overkill,” Xaviaro says, the five of us standing shoulder to shoulder in the elevator. I feel a little underdressed, sandwiched between the three well-dressed Morettis in their pricey black suits and Italian shoes.

I glance over at Sparrow, leaning casually against the back wall of the elevator, dressed in a leather jacket and a pair of jeans that look about as high end as mine. That is to say, full of holes and possibly hand-me-downs. At least I’m not the only one who passed on the dress code. He flashes a toothy smirk at Xaviaro’s comment, meeting his eyes through the distorted reflection on the metallic walls.

“Who in their right mind would pass up on the fun of gutting a human trafficker?”

Xaviaro’s answering smile definitely gives weight to Elio’s earlier foreplay theory.

Lorenzo sighs. “It’s not supposed to be fun.”

Xaviaro’s expression returns to something icy and stoic, and he nods. “Right. It’s not a game, it’s a job,” he agrees. But I don’t miss the wink he shoots his boyfriend when Lorenzo isn’t looking anymore.

The doors slide open, and we all file out. I hang back until everyone else is out, falling into step at the back of the group. I’m not sure what I was thinking coming along. They don’t need me here, and if I’m being honest, I don’t know for sure that I have the stomach for it. But the burning rage in my gut keeps my feet moving under me. Maybe we didn’t know we were starting something the night Elio took me to that motel, but I need to see it through now.

“Orion,” Lorenzo barks my name, and my pulse skyrockets.

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