Chapter 11
PRINCESS
Nobody’s taking you anywhere you don’t want to go. Butcher’s words followed Princess around the rest of the day like a ghost. She heard them while he worked on her car, and while she sat in his office pretending to read one of the ancient magazines that he had in there.
She watched Butcher move through the garage with grease-stained hands and that same quiet intensity that made every man around him instinctively step aside.
Nobody’s taking you anywhere you don’t want to go.
She should’ve known better than to let words affect her this much.
Promises were dangerous, and men were dangerous.
She had learned that lesson well over the years.
And hope was the worst of all, because hope made you stupid.
Still, every time Butcher glanced toward her like he was checking to make sure that she was still there, something inside her softened in ways she didn’t know how to stop.
Which was exactly why she needed to get herself together—fast.
Princess leaned back in the office chair with a frustrated sigh, staring out through the garage window while Butcher argued with Wade near one of the bikes.
He had shown up a few minutes prior and didn’t look very happy about something.
To say that they were arguing was generous.
Wade was the one doing the talking while Butcher looked one minor inconvenience away from homicide.
She inched closer to the open door so that she could hear what they were saying.
“You’re glaring at me again,” Wade informed him cheerfully.
“Well, that's because you’re still breathing,” Butcher shot back.
Princess hid a smile. God, these men were ridiculous.
Wade laughed loudly before his eyes drifted toward the office window and caught her watching them.
His grin immediately turned smug, and she could tell that he was about to cause trouble, which was the last thing that this situation needed.
He pointed between her and Butcher dramatically, and Princess mouthed, “Don’t you dare.” Wade looked delighted by the threat and seemed to accept her challenge. Butcher noticed the silent exchange immediately, and his eyes narrowed as he stared them both down.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Wade said instantly.
“That’s a lie,” Butcher insisted. Princess looked down quickly before he could catch her smiling, but it was too late.
“You’re both annoying,” Butcher muttered under his breath, and somehow the roughness in his voice only made warmth spread through her chest, because there was no real anger behind it anymore.
She only heard familiarity and comfort, and that realization scared her enough for her mood to sober instantly.
“Sorry that I interrupted,” she breathed.
“I’ll just be in your office if you need me.
” Princess walked away from the two men and back toward the small office.
She sat down at the desk, her expression dimming slightly as she noticed a framed photo that sat tucked near the corner.
She realized that it wasn’t there yesterday when she was in his office.
Curiosity tugged at her immediately as Princess stood slowly, walking closer to it before she could stop herself.
Three men stared back at her from the picture; they were young and covered in tattoos.
One of them was obviously Butcher. He was ten years younger, maybe, but still unmistakable.
He looked bigger somehow, and wilder around the eyes.
He was standing beside another older biker with a hard expression and dark hair streaked with gray.
The third man looked younger than both of them, grinning directly at the camera while the other two looked annoyed to be there.
Something twisted low in her chest, because even through the faded picture, she could see it—brotherhood, family, and even love.
Somehow, it made Butcher’s loneliness make even more sense to her.
Those men were people that he lost, and now, he was alone in the world, and that thought broke her heart.
“You found the ancient history section,” he said from the doorway. Princess jumped slightly at Butcher’s voice behind her. She turned slowly, still holding the frame.
“Who are these men in the photo with you?” she asked. His eyes dropped to the picture, and for one brief second, real emotion crossed his face completely unguarded. She was sure that she saw pain behind his eyes, but it was gone in an instant.
“They were my friends,” he said quietly. “My brothers.”
Princess looked back down at the photo. “You looked happy.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than it should have. Butcher leaned against the office doorway, arms folded over his chest. “We were happy, but those days are long gone. That’s when I was a part of something. I was in the Royal Bastards, back in Huntsville, until I left.”
Her eyes lifted to his again. “What happened?” she asked. She was surprised that Butcher didn’t shut down her question. He didn’t walk away, as she half expected him to. Instead, he stared at the picture for a long moment before speaking.
“I stopped agreeing with my Prez about certain things,” he admitted.
Princess blinked up at him, feeling a bit confused. “That’s it?” she asked.
A humorless laugh left him. “No, that was just the beginning.” Something in his voice made her chest tighten painfully, because she understood that tone. It was the one people used when they talked about losing everything.
“I was the Enforcer for my club, and my Prez, Savage, wanted me to do something that I wasn’t comfortable doing. I told him no, and well, nobody told Savage no—ever. We fought, and I left. That was ten years ago, and Savage is gone now.”
Princess set the frame down gently. “You still miss them.” It wasn’t a question.
Butcher looked away. “Some things don’t stop mattering just because they end.” Her heart stuttered because wasn’t that exactly what she was doing? Running from a family she hated while still carrying pieces of them everywhere she went? Princess stepped closer before she could second-guess herself.
“Butcher—” she breathed. The sound of tires crunching outside cut her off instantly, and both of them froze. Something was wrong, and Princess knew it immediately. It couldn’t be a customer—not at this time of day, and that realization made something inside her body go cold so fast that it hurt.
Butcher seemed to notice too. His expression changed immediately, and every trace of softness disappeared; the Enforcer he used to be was in its place. There was only one word for what she saw settle over him—dangerous.
“Princess,” he said quietly, already moving toward the office door. “Stay here.” Fear slammed into her chest hard enough to steal her breath. Because deep down, she already knew that her father had found her, and Butcher was going to keep his promise to her.
Princess stopped breathing as every instinct she had screamed danger.
The sound of tires outside dragged her straight back to Chicago—to dark sedans pulling up outside restaurants, armed men stepping out in expensive suits, and her father’s cold voice telling her that fear kept people obedient.
Her pulse thundered painfully at the memory.
No, no, no. They couldn’t have found her already, could they?
Butcher walked back into the office and stepped in front of her before she even realized he’d crossed the room.
One second, he was by the doorway, and the next, he was standing between her and the office entrance like his body automatically knew where she needed protection from.
That shouldn’t have affected her, but it did anyway.
“Princess.” His voice was calm—too calm. “Look at me.” Her eyes snapped to him immediately. “Are they your father’s men?” he asked quietly.
She swallowed hard. “I—I don’t know.”
Butcher nodded at her. “Okay, stay here,” he ordered. He reached beneath the desk before she could ask what he was doing and came back up holding a handgun.
Princess blinked up at him, and something dark shifted in her chest at the sight of the gun.
It wasn’t fear, but recognition. Men like her father carried guns like they were accessories, but Butcher held one like a man who understood exactly what it was for.
He looked comfortable handling one—and dangerous.
“You have a gun in your office?” she whispered.
His eyes flicked toward her briefly. “Baby, I used to be an Enforcer. I’ve got guns everywhere around my garage.” That should not have made heat curl through her stomach, but it did. She almost laughed when the thought that something might genuinely be wrong with her crossed her mind.
Butcher stepped closer suddenly, his hand catching her jaw lightly. “Listen to me carefully.” His voice dropped lower, sounding harder. “If I tell you to run, you run.”
Princess stared up at him. “What about you?”
His expression turned grim. “I can handle myself.” That answer absolutely did not comfort her, but before she could argue, heavy footsteps sounded from outside the office.
Princess tensed instantly as Butcher shifted slightly in front of her again without even thinking about it.
He was protecting her, just like he promised he would.
The office doorway seemed to darken a second later, and Wade stepped inside carrying a greasy paper bag. Princess nearly collapsed from relief. “Oh my God,” she breathed.
Wade blinked between them slowly. “Butcher,” he said carefully, “why are you pointing a gun at me?” Butcher lowered the weapon with a muttered curse as Princess pressed a hand against her chest, her pulse still racing violently.
Wade’s eyes narrowed immediately. “What’s happening?
” Neither of them answered fast enough. Wade looked between them once more before realization dawned.
“Oh,” he said quietly. “She thought somebody found her.” The room went silent, and Princess hated how exposed she suddenly felt.
She hated feeling weak and terrified, but she was.
It was exactly how she never wanted anyone to see her.
Butcher slid the gun onto the desk before turning toward her fully, and the look on his face nearly undid her completely.
It wasn’t pity, just concern—real concern.
“You okay?” he asked softly. She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t even remotely okay, but Princess nodded anyway because that was what she did.
She lied to survive and pretended that everything was all right, but apparently, Butcher was getting better at reading her because his eyes narrowed slightly.
“You’re shaking,” he whispered. She looked down, and damn it, her hands were trembling.
Princess immediately crossed her arms tighter around herself. “I’m fine,” she lied.
“Bullshit,” he breathed, pulling her into his body and wrapping his arms around her. She sighed and snuggled into his hold. The roughness in his voice wasn’t angry; it sounded like he was actually worried about her, and somehow, that felt worse.
Wade quietly set the paper bag down on the desk before backing toward the door. “I’m gonna give you two a minute before your collective emotional damage infects me,” he muttered. Neither of them stopped him from leaving, and the second he disappeared, silence crashed back into the room hard.
Princess stared at the floor. “I hate this,” she whispered finally.
Butcher held her closer, carefully, like she might bolt if he let her go. “Hate what?” he asked.
“The fear.” Her laugh came out shaky and bitter. “I used to think that if I got far enough away from Chicago, it would stop.” Her throat tightened painfully. “But it doesn’t matter where I go. I still feel like they’re right behind me.”
Butcher’s jaw flexed. “They won’t touch you,” he insisted.
“You can’t promise that,” she challenged.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I can.” Princess looked up at him. The certainty in his voice shook her because he genuinely believed it.
“You don’t know my father,” she whispered.
“No,” Butcher agreed. “But I know men like him.” Something dangerous flickered behind his eyes then—something that reminded her of the violence that she grew up around.
It was the same look he got earlier when he thought somebody had come for her, and Princess realized suddenly that Butcher wasn’t afraid of her father—at all.
And honestly, that might’ve terrified her more than anything that had happened between them.
“You were really going to protect me,” she said softly before she could stop herself.
Butcher looked almost offended. “Of course I was.” He said it like there was no other possible answer.
God. Nobody had ever chosen her this quickly before—not without expecting something in return.
Princess felt emotion climb unexpectedly into her throat.
This whole situation was dangerous—too dangerous.
She turned away quickly, pretending to look through papers on the desk before he noticed. “You know,” she said shakily, trying to regain control of herself, “normal people ease into emotional trauma. You and I apparently just sprint directly towards it.”
A rough laugh left him. “There’s that attitude that I love again.
” Princess smiled faintly despite herself as Butcher stepped behind her, close enough that warmth rolled off him immediately.
Then, his arms slid around her waist slowly and carefully, like he was giving her time to pull away, but she didn’t.
Princess melted back against him instead, exhausted by the constant fear and secrets that she was fighting.
For one selfish second, she just wanted this.
She wanted him because being with him meant that she was safe.
It made her feel as though she had finally found the peace that she had been searching for all these years.
Butcher rested his chin lightly against the top of her head. “You don’t have to be scared alone anymore,” he murmured. That nearly broke her, because this time, she believed every word he was telling her.