Page 2 of The Butcher

Bryce Harden.

I lower my hands and lean forward, closing my eyes as my fingers curl over the edge of the sink and grip the porcelain until my knuckles feel like they’re going to tear through my skin. I clench my jaw against the way my stomach twists, against the way my throat gets tight, and my mouth goes dry. Tiny white spots form against the darkness, blanketing my sight, and I squeeze my eyes shut while my head starts to spin.

Bryce fucking Harden.

My fist connects with the mirror, the glass shattering seconds before the thought of hitting it crosses my mind. I practically growl as I do it again, shards piercing my flesh, stabbing down to the bone before I open my eyes and punch the fucking mirror into dust.

I drop my chin to my chest as I take a few deep breaths, trying like hell to regulate my anger, once again bracing myself against the sink with my good hand so I don’t go clean through the brick wall.

Now isn’t the time, and this isn’t the place.

But I am so goddamn angry.

Angry and full of rage.

I’m teetering right on the fucking edge, a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode and…

I lift my head and turn as Clay steps into the doorway, a sad, soft smile pulling at his lips.

“Hey,” he says quietly as his deep brown eyes immediately start scanning my disheveled and bloody appearance. “Jesus, Bram.”

Ignoring the immediate change in his demeanor, I reach back toward the sink and turn it on.

“You’re lucky Pap and Nan know the owners.”

“They are the owners,” I grunt, his attempt at humor falling on deaf ears as he walks into the room.

He knows that, everyone fucking knows that, and if Grampa George were still around, he’d be wigging out over the amount of business his chapel and funeral home are doing. Pap and Nan are far too sad to think about it now, all theunfortunate businessthey’ve been getting, but when they do, I’m sure they’ll head to the family plot and let him know.

And for some fucked up reason, that makes me smile.

Clay moves to my side, gently rolling up my shirt sleeve before carefully sticking my shredded hand under the warm water. “I haven’t seen you smile…” He shakes his head. “Did you really have to do this?”

Anger flares at his words as my eyes cut to his in what’s left of the mirror. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Point out how wildly inappropriate it is for you to be isolated from your family so you can destroy a bathroom before your mother’s funeral?”

“Clay,” I bark in warning, flexing my fingers as he attempts to pull out a piece of glass.

“You’re supposed to be in mourning, Bramley. Not doing everything you’ve been doing while we wait to lay Maeve to rest. You’re going to bottle all this shit up?—”

“Ihavebeen in mourning.”

My beta arches a brow in challenge and I fucking snap.

I yank my hand from his and point a bloody finger in his face. “I’ve done nothing but fucking mourn, Clayton. Done nothing but be with my family during this shit.”

“Bram—”

“My little brother and sister, they’ve practically been living with us the last week and a half. I’ve been up all hours of the night with Tempy while she cries so hard she makes herself sick, while she begs me to bring Mom back. Titus won’t fucking talk to anyone, just sits in the basement staring at the goddamn walls. I swear he’s about to snap. Tus is gonna go postal or something and I can’t blame him, but he won’t fucking talk to me about any of it.” I start to pace, that rage I’ve been bottling up simmering right under my skin. “And Zeke? I thought he could handle this better than the thirteen-year-old twins, but we’ve all seen how fucking paranoid he’s gotten, how he made this into some conspiracy theory.”

“Bramley,” Clay says softly as he steps toward me. “I didn’t?—”

“That’s not even including all the shit with my dad and Ezekiel, all the attempts to make sure they don’t do something stupid.” I let out a hollow laugh as I loosen a few more buttons on my shirt. “He fuckinghit me,Clayton. Rex hit me because I look too goddamn much like my mother, and I stood there and let him. I’ve done nothing but fucking mourn with my family because I had no goddamn choice, and you know what?”

My beta shakes his head and waits for me to continue.

“I’m fuckingdonemourning.”

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