Page 56 of The Butcher

Is big brother branching out on his own? Is he working on something behind Bryce’s back?

Fuck it.

I don’t actually give a shit right now, I just want Harden blood on my hands.

Standing slowly, my eyes shift to the other side of the sports car, the passenger door opening as Alan walks around to it. A male gets out, tall and lean, built similarly to Clayton but a few years younger than him at least. He flinches when Alan reaches for him, still yelling into his phone as he grips the male’s arm tightly and jerks him toward the men in suits.

He’s an omega.

I don’t know that to be one hundred percent true but that’s what my gut is telling me, and judging by the way Alan is dealing with him, I’d say he thinks this one belongs to him in some way.

Well, this just got a lot more interesting, and slightly more fucked up.

Apparently saving Indigo gave me a fucking hero complex because now I want to kill Alan and save this fucking omega, even if it means he takes my truck and heads to Obsidian on his own with a message to my family about where to find my dead body.

I shake my head at the thought.

A hero complex, and a death wish, all in thirty seconds. Great.

Thankful for the veil of darkness, I look around at my feet for something to throw, planning to draw one of the mafia barbarians over this way in order to gain his weapon, but I come up short. The ground is still pretty hard, especially with the sun already set, so a handful of dirt is out, and I’m not seeing any fucking rocks.

A tree branch it is.

Reaching above my head, I quickly snap the closest one, smirking when it immediately gains a look in my direction from goon number one. He searches the tree line briefly before turning back to the omega they’re now babysitting, and when he seems otherwise engaged, I snap the branch in half and toss a piece at the trunk of a neighboring tree. He says something to his partner before facing my direction again, taking a step toward me as he sticks his hand inside his coat and rests it on his gun.

“That’s right, get ready for a fight, asshole,” I whisper as I toss the other piece of the branch.

He draws his weapon, clicking the safety off as he steps in between the trees, his eyes wide as they search the darkness for whatever threat is waiting for him. The dumbass gives me his back, heading in the opposite direction, and as soon as I know I’m able, I sneak out from my place in the shadows and grab him.

I have a good three or four inches on the bastard, making it easier for me to snatch him up because my reach is longer, and I quickly cover his nose and mouth with one hand while I reach for his gun with the other. We scuffle a little, him getting in a few good elbows to my ribs, me keeping him from firing his weapon and ending this before it can really begin.

He’s putting up a fight, I’ll give him that. Squirming and kicking, even when I lift him off the ground by his neck and cut off his air supply. It isn’t until I squeeze hard enough to hearsomething pop that he quits moving, and I drop him like a sack of potatoes the second he does.

I grab his gun and stick it in the back of my jeans as I crouch down, checking for a pulse and grinning when I don’t find one. I snap his neck again for good measure, one quick twist that has his throat bulging, and because I’m having a great fucking time, I go through his pockets to see what else I can find.

Brass knuckles, a switchblade, another gun in his ankle holster. Guy was definitely armed but that’s not really what I’m looking for.

Pulling his wallet out, I snake his ID and stick it in my boot, saving it for later when I can send the shit to Bryce Harden to continue taunting him the way I like to. I’ve sent him the ID of every single one of my kills, anyone who has ever set foot on this land or carried out that bastard’s orders, and I do it so he knows there’s someone out there just as untouchable as he is.

I grab this guy’s ankles and drag him behind the tree, deciding I’m going to leave a second calling card for good old Bryce because this is the first time I’ve ever killed on his property.

It should be fucking memorable, and I know exactly how to do that.

Checking on them again, I see that Alan is off the phone and smoking a cigar, and his arm is around the male omega who’s all but cowering beside him. He’s dressed in a tux, they both are, and I can only assume Alan took him to some sort of function as his date, but I doubt their night has ended just because they’re back at the ranch.

Which is probably why that omega flinches every time that Harden dickhead moves.

He looks scared.

He should be, if he goes into that house with Alan there’s no telling what the fuck is going to happen to him.

“Fuck me,” I grumble as I step out from behind the tree and immediately shoot the second goon in the kneecap. “Goddamn hero complex.”

The guy yelps in pain but pulls his gun and fires blind, barely missing my head before we’re facing off like two idiots living out some Wild West fantasy.

“Drop it,” he grunts, balancing on one leg as I walk toward them. “Now.”

I shake my head, and watch the cameras, making sure I stay out of view. Mask or not, my big ass is one Bryce would recognize and so far, he’s pissed off so many people over the years that the dumb fuck hasn’t figured out who’s been targeting his organization. And I want to keep it that way.

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