Page 31 of The Butcher

She’s not from around here and won’t be staying no matter how badly she’s injured, and as soon as she can travel, we’ll be taking her to the nearest hospital. Any concerns I had should have stopped the second I handed the female off to Nan.

But they didn’t.

And that pisses me off.

Bringing the axe down in one hard, fluid motion, I split the wood and bury the blade in the stump, the sting shooting up my arm briefly as I scowl. “Fuck.”

“As much as I like watching you go all mountain man, shirtless and chopping wood in the snow…” I look over to the porch to find Clay standing there, his arms folded against his chest, a smirk on his face while his bedhead is still kicking in full force. “Nan wants you.”

I nod, leaving the axe where it is as I grab the logs and add them to the pile before heading toward him. “She say why?”

“Nope.” Clayton grins as he produces a t-shirt and holds it out. “Just to go get her dickhead grandson and bring him to her.”

Rolling my eyes, I tug the cotton down over my head, then scrub a hand over my face, only now realizing I’m still wearing my mask and Nan will yank it off and beat my ass if I walk in like this.

“Nash still pissed?” The skeletal jaw on black fabric slides down over my mouth and throat, resting around my neck while I scratch the stubble on my chin.

My beta pushes off the railing and follows me. “Oh, yeah.”

“He waiting behind this door to knock me out?”

“Nah.”

I pause in the doorway and raise a brow. “You working with him so he can sneak attack me?”

“No way,” Clay says with a laugh, pushing me through the threshold and walking me toward the spare room. “I said what I needed to, I’m over it.”

That’s not surprising.

He lets things go a lot easier than Nash, and less upsets him than either one of us. Clayton said what he needed to and now he’s over it.

I’d also put money on him being curious as hell about what led to me showing up at our place with a female who was barely half alive, and why I even bothered.

That makes two of us.

“Go get her, tiger,” Clay whispers as he pats my ass, laughing when I shoot him a look.

He blows me a kiss before disappearing into the living room, and as I turn back to the door and rest my hand on the knob of the spare room, I can’t help the way my stomach twists.

I hold my breath as I slowly push the door open, my eyes taking a minute to adjust to the firelight.

The entire room is bathed in a dark orange glow, soft and welcoming. It’s quiet and calm, and oddly enticing.

There are candles lit along the empty shelves, incense burning in the corners of the room, and the overall scent is clean but warm, something like vanilla with an undertone of florals.

Closing the door softly, I press my back against it, taking in the entirety of the space as if I’ve never seen it before.

Nan turns from the card table set up next to the bed, raising a finger to her lips as if I’m going to come in here barking all kinds of shit, and intentionally waking the dead.

Or, those close to it, anyway.

She goes back to the odd spread before her, a mix of homeopathic mountain remedies, surgical tools, and sterile instruments yet to be touched.

I move cautiously, further entering the room, wanting to see what she’s doing but I stop shy and wait just out of reach.

“She’s strong,” Nan whispers as she sets down her sutures. “Her will is stronger yet.” She turns toward the pitcher and basin set up close to the fireplace, washing her hands, the water gradually turning red.

Now that my line of sight is clear, I can’t help the way my eyes are drawn to the bed.

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