Chapter 14
BUTCHER
Butcher knew that sooner or later, Princess’s father’s men would catch up to her.
The second Marco said that she didn’t have a choice about going with him, something old and violent snapped loose inside Butcher’s chest. He became the Enforcer he had tried to outrun ten years ago, but that part of him had never really died.
It had just been sleeping. And now it was fully awake and ready to take down any man who tried to lay one finger on Princess.
The garage went dead silent around him except for the low hum of fluorescent lights overhead and Princess’s uneven breathing somewhere behind his shoulder. Butcher didn’t look back at her. He couldn’t, because if he saw fear in her eyes right now, somebody was going through a wall.
Marco clearly mistook his silence for hesitation because he adjusted his suit jacket calmly and smiled again. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
Butcher stared at him. “No,” he said quietly. “You showing up here did that.”
The guy on Marco’s left shifted slightly, his jacket sliding to the side to reveal his weapon. Butcher noticed it immediately, and so did Wade. But the interesting thing about violent men was that they recognized each other instantly.
The atmosphere in the garage sharpened hard enough to cut skin.
Marco finally looked around properly at the men who were flanking his sides.
He seemed to notice the way they’d closed ranks without even discussing things.
It was club instinct, and Butcher knew that they were becoming a brotherhood.
For the first time since walking in, uncertainty flickered across Marco’s face.
Butcher took another slow step forward. “You got two choices,” he said calmly. “You leave peacefully—” His voice dropped lower before he said the next part. “Or we help you leave.” Princess made a tiny sound behind him like she already knew violence was coming.
Marco’s jaw tightened. “You really want to go to war with the Romano family over a woman?” That was the wrong question, because Butcher’s temper finally snapped completely.
He moved so fast the guy barely had time to react.
One second, Marco stood there smirking, and the next, Butcher had him slammed against the hood of a Camaro with a forearm, crushing his throat.
Tools crashed to the floor nearby, and Princess gasped.
The other two men reached for weapons instantly, and suddenly Wade had a shotgun pointed directly at one while Trigger buried a knife into the workbench beside the other’s hand, hard enough to make him freeze.
It was complete chaos—controlled chaos, which was the best kind.
Marco struggled beneath Butcher’s hold, but Butcher just leaned harder into his throat. “You came into my town,” he growled, years of buried violence bleeding into every word. “Into my garage and threatened my woman.” His voice turned colder. “That was your first mistake.”
Marco’s face darkened red beneath his grip. “She’s—”
Butcher shoved him harder against the car.
“I know exactly who she is.” And that was the problem, because he did.
She was scared, lonely, and running for her life.
And somewhere along the line, she became his.
Princess wasn’t his property, but his responsibility.
She was his woman, and the hard line in the sand for him.
Marco finally stopped struggling long enough to sneer. “You think this town will protect you both?”
Butcher smiled then, slow and mean. It was the exact kind of smile that used to make enemies back down inside Savage Hell. “Nah,” he said quietly. “But the Royal Bastards probably will.” That seemed to get everyone’s attention. Wade looked smug as hell at the mention of the Bastards.
Marco frowned. “The Royal Bastards?” Butcher released him just enough to let him breathe while still pinning him to the hood of the car.
“We’re their new Mississippi charter,” he said calmly.
“Just got sanctioned.” Technically, they weren’t official yet, but that didn’t matter.
The bluff seemed to work anyway. Marco’s expression shifted because even Chicago mob families knew the Bastards.
Savage built that reputation in blood years ago, and suddenly Butcher felt it fully for the first time.
The patch might’ve been gone from his shoulders, but it never really left his bones.
“You’re lying,” Marco said carefully.
Butcher shrugged one shoulder. “Call Huntsville and ask.” Princess stared at him behind wide eyes, but Butcher ignored her. He couldn’t let her fear guide what he was going to do next. He had to get rid of the threat, and then, he’d worry about Princess.
Marco seemed to slowly realize the situation had changed. This wasn’t one mechanic standing alone anymore. This was about territory, brotherhood, and starting a potential war, and even mob men respected numbers.
Marco straightened carefully once Butcher released him. His expensive suit was wrinkled now, making Butcher want to laugh. “This isn’t over,” Marco said coldly.
Butcher stepped closer immediately. “No,” he agreed quietly. “It’s not.” The threat hung thick between them.
Marco looked toward Princess one last time. “Your father will never stop looking for you.”
Princess stiffened behind Butcher. But before fear could settle fully into the room, Butcher spoke.
“Then he'd better send more men next time.” Marco held his stare for one long second before finally turning toward the door.
The other two followed immediately, and nobody moved until the black SUV disappeared down the road outside.
“Holy shit,” Wade breathed.
Trigger burst out laughing as Grim shook his head slowly.
“Well,” he muttered, “guess we’re officially a biker club now.
” Butcher scrubbed a hand over his face hard enough to hurt.
Adrenaline still pounded through him violently.
It wasn’t fear, but rage. He could handle rage easier than fear, because he was done being afraid.
The overwhelming need to make sure Princess was okay hit him, and he turned around immediately and found her there.
She was standing near the office doorway staring at him like she’d never seen him clearly before this moment.
He wasn’t the mechanic or the quiet loner anymore. He was the Enforcer now.
Princess swallowed hard. “You could’ve gotten killed.”
Butcher walked straight toward her without hesitation. “Not a chance.”
Emotion flashed across her face—anger, fear, and something heartbreakingly close to panic. “You can’t just throw yourself into danger every time somebody threatens me,” she insisted.
“Butcher stopped directly in front of her. “Yes,” he said calmly. “I can.” Her eyes went glassy, and he could tell that she was holding back tears. Damn it. That reaction punched straight through his ribs. The last thing he wanted to do was make her cry.
Princess lowered her voice roughly. “Why would you do that?” It was a simple question with a complicated answer. Because somewhere along the line, protecting her became instinct. Because the idea of somebody hurting her made him homicidal, and because he was already in too deep.
Butcher reached up slowly, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. “Because you’re mine.” The words slipped out naturally—possessive and absolute. Judging by the way Princess’s breath caught, she felt it too.
Behind them, Wade whispered loudly, “Oh, they’re definitely getting married.” Butcher flipped him off without looking away from Princess once. The last thing he needed was for his asshole friend to scare her off, but the look in her eyes told him that she didn’t scare easily.
Butcher’s words hung in the air long after he said them.
Because you’re mine. Butcher wasn’t even sure when that happened.
Maybe the first night she looked at him like he was something safe instead of something dangerous.
Or maybe when she laughed at Wade’s stupid jokes in his kitchen.
But when he realized he’d burn this entire goddamn town to the ground before letting anybody drag her back to Chicago, she became his.
It didn’t matter when it happened now, because it was true, and judging by the expression on Princess’s face, she knew it too.
The garage suddenly felt too crowded—too full of people watching them like they’d just witnessed something important.
Which they probably had. Princess stared up at him with wide dark eyes, her lips parted slightly like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite get there.
Christ. Butcher wanted to kiss her again.
He wanted to drag her into his arms and reassure himself that she was still there with him—safe.
Instead, he forced himself to step back slightly before he did something reckless in front of half the future club.
Wade ruined the moment anyway. “So,” he drawled loudly, “are we fighting the mob before or after dinner?” Trigger barked out a laugh, and the rest of the guys looked deeply entertained.
Butcher rubbed a hand over his face. “This is why nobody likes you, Wade.”
“That’s fair,” Wade admitted cheerfully. Princess finally laughed softly beside him, though tension still lingered beneath it. Butcher noticed that she was scared, but trying not to show it. That protective instinct inside him sharpened immediately again. He was done letting fear live in her eyes.
“Everybody out,” Butcher muttered.
Wade frowned dramatically. “But I live for drama.”
“Out!” Butcher shouted. The men grumbled, but one by one they started heading toward the front of the garage.
Wade stopped beside Butcher long enough to murmur, “You did good, Prez.”
Butcher exhaled slowly and watched as the garage finally emptied, leaving just him and Princess standing in the silence afterward. She looked at him carefully. “You really told them you’d start a club for me.”
Butcher leaned back against the workbench behind him. “I told you, I can’t fight your father alone. I needed backup.”
“That’s not the whole reason, though, is it?
” she asked. No, it wasn’t. The problem was, he didn’t fully understand the rest of the reason himself yet.
It was like something had started waking back up inside him lately.
He felt like he had a purpose now that he had found brotherhood with his new club.
He felt the need to belong somewhere again.
Princess stepped closer slowly. “You missed it,” she said quietly.
Butcher’s jaw flexed. “The club life?” he asked.
“The family,” she corrected. She was right. Savage Hell hadn’t just been a clubhouse, it had been home—until it wasn’t.
Butcher looked away briefly, staring toward the open garage bay. “I spent ten years pretending I didn’t miss or need a club.”
Princess’s voice softened. “But now?”
Butcher looked back at her slowly. “Now I’m tired of pretending.” Silence stretched between them as Princess moved closer until she stood directly in front of him, her fingers lightly hooking into the belt loop of his jeans. That tiny touch nearly wrecked him.
“You know,” she murmured, “you’re kind of terrifying when you go all biker alpha.” Butcher huffed out a rough laugh.
“Kind of,” he growled.
She held up her fingers, pinching them together as she smiled at him.
“Yeah, just a smidge.” Her lips twitched.
God, he loved it when she smiled. That realization slammed into him unexpectedly hard.
Loved. That was a dangerous damn word. Besides, it was too soon for him to be thinking about love and everything that went along with it.
Butcher’s hand slid around her waist automatically, pulling her flush against him, and Princess melted into him instantly. It was as though she trusted him, and belonged in his arms, and Christ, maybe she did.
“You scared?” he asked quietly.
Her eyes lifted to his immediately. “Of you?” He nodded, and Princess studied him for a long second like she was trying to decide what her answer would be.
She slowly shook her head. “No.” Her voice dropped softer.
“I think that’s the problem.” He understood exactly what she meant.
Fearing him would be easier for her. Fear created distance, but this thing between them didn’t include any fear.
It was pure attachment and trust—the kind of dangerous emotional shit that ruined people when it got ripped away.
Butcher slid his hand into her hair gently, tilting her face up toward his. “You should probably be a little scared of me, Princess.”
She smiled faintly. “Too late.” Fuck. That tiny answer nearly brought him to his knees.
Butcher kissed her hard before he could think better of it.
Princess made a soft sound against his mouth, her arms wrapping around his neck immediately, while weeks of tension and adrenaline and fear burned between them.
He needed this. He needed her. Butcher wanted something good after ten years of empty silence.
He backed her against the workbench slowly, gripping her hips while kissing her deeper. Princess laughed breathlessly against his mouth. “This feels wildly inappropriate to be happening in a garage.”
“You complaining again?” he asked.
“Not currently,” she breathed. His grin flashed briefly before he kissed her again, and for one perfect second, everything felt simple.
His phone rang, and Butcher froze immediately.
Princess blinked up at him, flushed and breathless.
“Whoever is calling you, their timing sucks,” she mumbled.
He was planning on ignoring it until he saw the number.
The area code was from Huntsville, and that caused his mood to shift. Princess seemed to notice too.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Not sure,” he breathed. Butcher answered the phone slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “Yeah?”
Vengeance’s voice came through hard and sharp. “We got a problem.” Every instinct Butcher had snapped to attention.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Romano reached out to us down here in Huntsville.” Vengeance’s voice darkened. “And he’s offering money for your head.” Princess’s gasp filled the room as she covered her mouth with her trembling hands.
“Fuck,” Butcher growled. “What did you tell him?” he asked.
“What the hell do you think that I told him?” Vengeance asked.
“I told him to fuck off.” Yeah, that would be what he’d say, because Butcher would have said the very same thing.
Still, Princess’s father had balls of steel, even calling down to Huntsville to make that offer.
He just wondered how far he’d go to get his daughter back.
Butcher would never let that happen because now, this was personal.
No one put a price on his fucking head and lived.