Page 52 of The Butcher

She seemed to read my clipped tone because her response was brief.I’ll talk to you later.

I should just leave it at that because I had other priorities right now, but I couldn’t.Are you okay, sweetheart?I was pissed as fuck right now, ready to burn down that house and force my enemies to breathe in the smoke, but all of that paused the second my concern for her grew.

Her three dots came right away.I’m fine. Just want you in my bed, is all.

Normally, I would have smiled, but I felt nothing right now.Tomorrow.

Okay, be safe.

Once I knew she was fine, I put my phone away and watched the line of cars pull up to a building behind an iron gate. It must be the place because my crew hopped out with the crowbar then proceeded to break down the gate with a couple swings.

I got out of the car as the guys formed a perimeter around the house, while the others carried the crowbar to the double front doors. They planned their coordinated attack in silence, and once the wordless cue was given, the attack happened simultaneously, the windows behind blown out with gunfire while the door was knocked down.

The men moved through the house, shooting down the security guys who had failed at their jobs. Blood splattered the walls, smoke bombs were thrown into hallways, screams were silenced by death. It happened quickly, framed family photos on the walls shattered by bullets.

I heard a woman’s scream from upstairs, probably the wife or the mistress or the whore, who fucking knew.

I waited downstairs, listening to her scream as she was dragged into another room and then locked behind the door with her children. Minutes later, Peter was dragged down the stairs and to the center of the living room, forced on his knees like an execution.

“Wife and children are barricaded upstairs,” one of the guys said as he approached me. “No injuries.”

Peter’s wrists were zip-tied behind his back. “Please don’t hurt my family.”

I walked up to him, stared hard into his frightened eyes, and then hit him in the face with my fist. “Insult me like that again and see what happens.” I broke his nose, and blood splattered on me and the floor.

He dared not scream, but he breathed through the pain.

“You beg for your wife and your daughter, but you employ children whose mothers made the same plea.” I squatted down before him so we were eye-to-eye. “How would you feel if I dragged your daughter down here and fucked her right in front of you? And all you could do was watch?”

He trembled at the words, both in terror and anger, his face turning beet red in an unexpressed rage. His eyes were locked on me like a rocket from a fighter jet.

“How would you feel if I made her work her hands bloody every day then locked her up every night? Sentenced her to a short life of manual labor that eventually broke her back? And she never saw the light of day again?”

He continued to shake, like he wanted to kill me for just saying those words.

“You’re lucky I’m a better man than you are, because if I weren’t, your wife would be my maid and your daughters would be my whores.” I rose to my feet and stepped back before I pulled my pistol out of the back of my jeans. I cocked the gun before I pressed the end of the barrel right against his forehead. “It’ssimple. Tell me where I can find Godric, and you can walk upstairs and comfort your family.”

His eyes closed as he felt the cool metal against his skin.

I waited for the answer I wanted, felt him tremble against the gun.

“Don’t try my patience, Peter.”

“I can’t tell you.”

“If you don’t, your family will find you here—a bullet through the head.”

“You may take my life—but Godric will take my entire family. He’ll wipe out my bloodline. He’ll hunt down my brothers and sisters and their families…my cousins in Albania. He’ll execute my friends and their families and spit on them just for good measure. And only after that’s done…when I have nothing to live for…he’ll kill me.” He stared at the floor, at my bloody boots. “I can’t talk—and no one else will either.”

The disappointment was like gasoline on my tongue, and the rage was a lit match. It was impossible to beat a man without ethics when I had to abide by my own. I chose to be the bigger man, but that made Godric the bigger opponent. There were lines I refused to cross, and Godric danced right over them. “As the first French Emperor of the Republic, I sentence you to death for violatingHomines ex codicewith the use of trafficked women as free and illegal labor.” I fired the gun, and he fell back, blood pouring from the bullet hole in the center of his skull. “Rot in hell, asshole.”

The SUV pulled up to the gate, and I checked in with security before I was granted permission to enter the grounds. I was escorted through the double doors, and then the butler invited me into the parlor. “Madame Dupont will be here shortly.” He placed a tray on the coffee table, a pot of tea with floral teacups on saucers along with a platter of cranberry scones. He excused himself, leaving me alone in the room drenched in sunlight from all the open windows, the wallpaper a floral pattern, the chandelier made of crystal, the coffered ceilings restored and preserved.

I sat in the armchair and waited, looking out the window to the buildings beyond, dead tired behind the eyes but refusing to show it.

Then I heard the sound of her heels behind me, the gentle tap against the hardwood floor, the way the sound changed once she hit the custom rug her designer had selected for the space. I rose to my feet to greet her, wearing a gray collared shirt instead of my typical t-shirt out of respect.

She stopped before me, thin as a rail in a pink dress that reached past her knees, her blond hair elegantly done in soft curls, a necklace of sparkling diamonds around her throat. There were lines in the corners of her eyes and around her mouth, but other than the subtle signs of age, she’d been perfectly preserved in an eternal state of beauty. Her eyes filled with affection at the sight of me, as always. “My boy.” She cupped my face in her hands, and she kissed me twice on each cheek.

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