Page 53 of Beautifully Savage Butterfly

“Uh, yeah?” I answer, picking up my pace until I’m at the front of the group instead of the back, right in step with the Don himself, eating up the distance from the elevator to Casimir’s apartment at record speed.

“I’m going to knock on the door, and when he answers, you’re going to knock him out. Can you handle that?” His voice is calm and quiet in the kind of way that feels powerful, like every word he says holds weight.

I give a jerky nod. If there’s one thing I can do, it’s KO someone. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Lorenzo says crisply, stopping right in front of Casimir’s door.

He raises his fist, and everything feels like it’s slowing down and coming into sharper focus, just like the seconds before a fight. My senses are all cranked up to eleven with the adrenaline pumping through me. The rap of his knuckles against the wood echoes in my ears like thunder, or maybe that’s my pulse. Everything else fades around me. If Casimir hesitates to open the door, I don’t know about it. If anyone else says a word, it’s lost on me. I’m focused on exactly one thing, and the second the door swings open, I act on pure instinct, cocking my arm back and slamming my fist directly into his face.

He stumbles backward with the force and then crumples to the ground. If everything was moving at half speed a few seconds ago, it’s moving twice as fast as usual now to catch back up. Elio, Xaviaro, and Sparrow rush past Lorenzo and I into the apartment. Elio and Xaviaro pick up the unconscious body of hefty, middle-aged Casimir by his arms, one on either side of him. They don’t bother with his legs, settling for dragging him down the hallway, deeper into the apartment.

I’m not sure how many times they’ve run this exact play, or if they’re just a well-oiled machine, but they move around each other like they all know exactly what they’re meant to be doing. Sparrow pulls a chair out from the kitchen table, and Xaviaro and Elio drop Casimir’s limp body into it.

“Get the blinds,” Lorenzo says, and since everyone else is busy, I’m assuming he’s talking to me.

I hustle past them to pull the blinds closed on each of the kitchen windows. When I turn around, Sparrow is whistling a jaunty tune and using a length of rope he must have brought with him to tie Casimir up, binding him to the chair and tying his wrists and ankles. I cock my head and watch his technique with interest. He’s clearly a hell of a lot more advanced than a makeshift belt restraint. Maybe I can ask him for some tips later.

Elio catches my eye and waggles his eyebrows. I put on a stern expression and shake my head, just to toy with him. It shouldn’t feel this natural to flirt with my boyfriend over the unconscious body of a sex trafficker. Maybe I’m more like the monsters than I wanted to admit to myself. Did Jack see that in me? Is that why he was so adamant that I stay away from all this?

Sparrow finishes with the knots on Casimir’s ankles and gets back to his feet gracefully. He glances over at Lorenzo, and the boss gives a single nod. That feral smile I saw in the elevator spreads across the terrifying twink’s mouth again, and he gives the unconscious man a light slap on the cheek.

“Rise and shine, fuckface,” Sparrow singsongs. Casimir grunts and blinks slowly, looking dazed at first, and then fucking terrified when he sees the five of us standing around him. “Look what we have here, Casimir, it’s the consequences of your actions.”

Casimir whips his head around, trying to get a better look at Elio and Enzo, standing slightly behind him on either side. He jerks his arms, testing the knot Sparrow tied around his wrists, then flails, rocking the chair underneath him.

Elio puts a foot on the chair to steady it and leans over with his arms resting on his raised knee. He’s wearing that same friendly smile that’s equal parts unsettling and weirdly hot.

“Hey there, friend. Thanks for having us.”

“I’ve been paying,” he says in a hurry. “Every month, right on time.”

“We know,” Lorenzo says. “And that’s exactly what made us suspicious.”

“Suspicious?”

“It’s a big, fancy word that means we don’t buy your bullshit,” Sparrow explains.

“I paid,” Casimir says again. “What the fuck do you care where the money is coming from?”

Elio gives a low, threatening chuckle, and Xaviaro steps forward, wearing that grim, blank expression of his.

“Let’s cut to the chase. We know you’re trafficking kids, and that’s not something the Morettis are going to stand for. Now, you’re going to tell us when the next shipment is coming in and if this is a solo project you’ve been working on here in Wildcliff or not.”

The cagey look of fear in Casimir’s eyes turns even more wild, his expression hardening with a stubborn set of his jaw.

“I’m not telling you shit,” he spits.

“Oh goodie. That’s what I was hoping you would say.” Sparrow reaches into his jacket and pulls out a knife as long as his forearm, one edge jagged, with shark-like teeth. Casimir’s eyes go wide. “Do me a favor and hold his head still for me, O?” Sparrow asks, cocking his head to one side and studying our captive, like he’s an artist sizing up a blank canvas, trying to decide the most interesting way to paint it crimson.

I move between Elio and Lorenzo to stand behind Casimir, my hands on either side of his head to hold it still. Sparrow brings the knife to the man’s cheek, pressing the flat steel surface of it against his skin. He wails and tries to buck, but all that accomplishes is bringing the tip of the blade closer to his eye.

“If I tell you, they’ll kill me,” he sputters.

“Cassie, sweetie, we’re going to kill you,” Sparrow says patiently.

“Telling us what we want to know or not is just going to decide how much you suffer first,” Elio says solemnly.

He tries to thrash again, but I hold him still. It feels like an out-of-body experience. I’m me, but not me. Maybe I’m just a new version of me, watching as Sparrow presses the edge of the blade into his skin, slicing shallowly, just enough to draw out a trickle of blood.

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