Page 6 of Butcher's Honor

Hellfire looks at me, waiting for my signal. As VP, raid strategy falls under my command. I take one last look at the warehouse through my night vision scope. Two guards visible at the front, more shadows moving inside.

"On my mark," I whisper. "Three... two... one... Go."

The night explodes into chaos. Our synchronized assault takes them completely by surprise. I put down the front guards with two silenced shots before they can raise the alarm. Hellfire moves in behind me, efficient and deadly.

Inside, gunfire erupts as the other teams engage. I duck behind a crate as bullets spray overhead, returning fire with precision. Years of violence have taught me to move like a predator, to see threats before they fully materialize.

"Back cleared!" Wrath calls out.

"Sides cleared!" Maverick echoes.

Bodies litter the floor as we push forward. The Outlaws fight hard, but we fight harder. This is our territory, our revenge. Each shot, each kill, is payment for Mickey's eye, for Mark’s life, for their audacity in thinking they could challenge us.

I spot movement high up—a sniper in the rafters. My bullet finds him before he can take aim, sending him crashing down among the crates of weapons.

"Time!" Crow warns.

"Plant the charges," I order, providing cover fire as Ruthless sets the explosives.

We grab what weapons we can carry—enough to make it hurt but not so much it looks like a simple robbery.

"Thirty seconds!" Ruthless calls.

We retreat in order, covering each other's backs. Outside, engines roar in the distance—their backup finally arriving.

"Move!" I shout, breaking into a run.

We're on our bikes when the first explosion hits, followed quickly by more. The warehouse lights up the night sky, a beaconof our retribution. Sirens wail in the distance as we split up, taking different routes back to the clubhouse.

The ride helps clear my head, adrenaline slowly fading into a familiar numbness. By the time we regroup, the news is already spreading through our networks. Twelve Outlaws died, one of their weapon supplies was destroyed, and their reputation was damaged.

"That'll keep them quiet for a while," Hellfire says, pouring shots for everyone.

We drink in silence, each processing the night's violence in our own way. Ruthless cleans blood from his knife. Crow makes calls to spread our version of events. Wrath and Maverick compare kill counts like kids comparing baseball cards.

But my mind keeps drifting back to a small yellow house and its neighbors. To a woman who thanked me for protection, not knowing what these hands have done. To a kid who called me a superhero, not knowing I'm anything but.

"You good?" Hellfire asks quietly, noticing my distraction.

"Yeah," I lie, throwing back another shot. "Just thinking about our next move."

He nods, buying it or pretending to. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we'll deal with whatever fallout comes."

I ride home as dawn breaks, the smell of gunpowder still clinging to my clothes. My apartment feels empty and cold. In the shower, I watch red-tinged water swirl down the drain, someone else's blood washing away like it never existed.

But it did exist. It always does. And sooner or later, Ruby will see what I really am. They all do, eventually.

It's better this way, I tell myself. Better she stays just a neighbor I helped once, nothing more. Better for her, better for Tommy, better for everyone.

But as I finally fall into bed, exhausted and battle-worn, I can't help but think about her – her curves, her beautiful face…

God, I'm so fucked.

Chapter 4 - Ruby

The kitchen is warm and cozy, filled with the sweet aroma of vanilla and chocolate as I watch Tommy carefully place chocolate chips on top of each cookie dough ball. His little tongue sticks out in concentration, determined to make these treats perfect for our neighbors.

"Do you think Mr. Joey likes chocolate chips, Mommy?" he asks, placing another chip.

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