Page 62 of The Butcher

“Ten years?” I asked. “That’s still not that long.” If he’d started in his early twenties, he was probably too young and immature to seem like a real threat to other men.

“It’s been more than ten years,” he said quietly. “It’s been my whole life.”

There was so much packed in those words, an epic tale I would probably never hear.

“Authoritarianism, rulership, power…it all runs in my veins.” His eyes flicked past me to the door, and that hard expression slowly softened like he recognized someone who just walked inside. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Two guys approached our table, both looking at Bastien like they knew exactly who he was. “You come here without us now?” The guy was tall with dark hair, fit and muscular like Bastien and just as arrogant. “I see how it is.”

“I don’t remember getting an invitation from you,” Bastien fired back.

“We were in the neighborhood,” the other one said, a tanned guy with jet-black hair. “And we were hungry.”

The first one looked at me, and after a long stare, he looked at Bastien—full of accusation.

“Luca, this is Fleur.” He nodded toward me.

Luca gave me a nod. “I’ve heard nothing but good things. Very good things…”

Bastien ignored him and introduced the other guy. “Gabriel.”

“Nice to meet you both,” I said, a little intimidated by these two equally strong and attractive men.

“Since you’ve got a booth, and we aren’t waiting fifteen minutes for a table—” Luca moved to my side of the booth to take a seat “—we’ll join you.”

Bastien snapped his fingers. “Get your ass up. You aren’t sitting next to my girl.”

He did it again—called me his girl.

Luca raised both hands in a form of surrender and left the booth.

Bastien took his place, sliding into the spot next to me and dropping his arm over the back of the booth on top of my shoulders.

The two guys slid into the leather seat across from us.

There was an awkward pause, both of them looking at me like they’d never seen a woman before.

I grabbed my coffee and took a drink.

Bastien broke the tension. “How’d it go last night?”

“Squealed like a pig,” Luca said. “Like they all do.”

“Hector Turner is the one who closed down the port,” Gabriel said. “People are saying he lost his mind because someone murdered his daughter, and he refused to let business resumeuntil they found the killer. He wanted to put a target on the killer’s back, but he just put the target on himself.”

I had no idea what they were talking about, but they spoke freely in front of me, like I would never talk or I was deemed trustworthy.

“Heard about Peter,” Luca said. “His family put the house on the market and fled for Albania.”

“Good,” Bastien said. “They aren’t welcome in my city.”

“Martin is gonna snap,” Luca said. “I hear his collar is getting tighter by the day.”

“This city ain’t that big,” Gabriel said. “Especially for someone as big as Godric. He’s gotta be somewhere?—”

“Then why don’t you find him?” Bastien snapped.

A heavy tension fell across the table. Both men stared at him but said nothing.

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