Page 111 of His Pretty Little Duet

Lee passes out.

Bitter deceit prickles at the backs of my eyes, but I ram the pain of betrayal down my throat. Rising to my feet, I hover over Lee. I lift his lifeless chin and tilt his head backwards. Effortlessly, I hold it steadfast. He gasps at the metal ceiling. All the blood squirting into his mouth from veins below his teeth, from the webbing of them in his near-severed tongue, start to pour down his trachea into his lungs. He gasps again, guaranteeing his death. Drowning.

Like my little deer.

She's drowning...

She tried to drown herself.

I bare my teeth and tighten my hold. His body convulses, and I watch—revel.Watching bubbles of blood and saliva foam around my fingers, I narrow my eyes.Her pain.He should feelher pain. And so drown he will.

I should drown them all.

All. Of. Them.

Then the men around me seem to catch my attention. The man behind me. In Jimmy's shed. By Jimmy's house. Not mine... I lose focus in this dying man's eyes, feeling the entire scenario of my existence, my city, my men, burn up in flames. It was never mine. Not really. I should have fucking known better.

I speak hushed but firmly. "Dustin is alive because Jimmy wanted him to be. And here I am, working in the same model as him. In a world Jimmy made. In a city he built. I just continued what he started." I speak to a dying Lee. To my capo—Vinny—behind me, watching. To my soldiers as they try to hold their stomachs. To myself.

I remember when I thought thatif anyone was to rip the Cosa Nostra from the District, the entire city would bleed to death.Well, fuck, I was wrong. Again. It's not theCosa Nostrathat grows like weeds within the city. It'sJimmy Storm.And Ineed to pull him out. Weed by weed. "Jimmy wanted the entire city to bleed if he did. And bleed it will."

Vinny's voice is hesitant as he says, "What are you saying, Boss?"

I think about how Jimmy never burnt any bridges. Not with Dustin when the fucker betrayed us. Not with us when we demanded his head. He knew everything and everyone.And...he knew my little deer.

"Fuck,"I growl. He knew her all along. Of course, he did. I release my hold on Lee's chin now that he is a lifeless pile. "This is not my city, Vinny."

"Yes, it is, Boss."

"No, my friend." I shake my head stiffly, turning to face him. "These are not my men."

He looks at me as though I have gone mad, or is that fear I see playing in his eyes? "What are you talking about?"

I laugh with derision. "No more alliances, Vinny. They are not mine. I did not make them."

"What do you mean?"

"I want them all brought in. Every Underboss. Every Capo. Every division. The Japanese. The bikers. I don't think they know who I am, and I'd like to officially introduce myself as the head of the Family. Anyone who is not with me is nowagainstme. Anyone on thefence, apeacekeeper, is nowagainstme." I step towards him, growling, "Anyone who questions me. Is. Now. Against me!"

I watch his throat roll. "They won't like that."

Exhaling slowly, I try again to calm myself down, but it isn't working because I am not Jimmy Storm. Not a cold, unaffected man. I am afucking Butcher,and I'm at the end of my goddamn rope. Lowering my voice, I say, "Did you not hear me, my friend? I said bring them.All.Tome."

"Boss,"—he clears his throat—"are you sure?"

Anyone who questions me. Is. Now. Against me.I go deadly cold. Deadly still. A smooth smile slides into place. I stare into the wide brown eyes of the man who has been beside me for the past twelve months, a man who has worked for the Family for decades. "The thing about loyalty is that it's black and white. You are either loyal or you aren't. There is no sliding scale in loyalty. I know this better than most, as loyalty is easy for me. I've only ever been loyal to the name Butcher. At the core of it, it will always be them." Stepping towards him, I cup his head and kiss both cheeks before leaning back and asking, "How long have you worked for him?"

He shakes his head in my palms. "I don't work for him. I work for you."

I release his face. Scrutinising him, I feel a pang of pain, the knife sliding between my shoulder blades, the shot to the back of my skull in the church, as I realise how he took my words. Tookhimto meanDustin.Not Jimmy. Not. Fucking. Jimmy. For him to instantly think I meantDustin.

So many tells. Now… and recently. How did I miss this disloyalty? How did I— He flipped the table in front of my Indonesian associates. Was that a diversion? Were the weapon crates even short? He was anxious when I asked him to stay back at the warehouse with me. My eyes land on Lee, rendereduseless—Fucker.

Nothingness, not the cigars shared, nor the conversations had, not the love of his life who was shot in the back—none of it will protect him. I amnota merciful man when it comes to them, to her. I'm no longer that man.

For her.

Don't fuck with me.

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