Chapter 15
PRINCESS
Princess couldn’t breathe. Her father put a hit on Butcher.
The thought slammed into her chest hard enough to hurt.
Vengeance told him that her father put a bounty on his head.
She had heard those kinds of conversations her entire life growing up.
Men sitting around tables deciding who lived and who disappeared.
Numbers attached to human beings like their lives meant nothing more than business transactions.
But this wasn’t some stranger her father wanted gone.
This was Butcher—her Butcher, and suddenly all she could think about was the fact that she brought this to his door. Her stomach twisted violently.
“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.” Princess barely heard the rest of the conversation after that.
The room felt too small and too hot. Panic clawed up her throat hard enough to choke on, because this was exactly what she’d been trying to avoid.
People got hurt around the Romano family—people died, and now Butcher had a target on his back because of her.
“No one puts a price on my fucking head and lives,” Butcher growled. The cold fury in Butcher’s voice should’ve scared her. Instead, it made her want to cry, because he wasn’t afraid—not even a little bit.
Butcher hung up the phone a second later, his jaw tight enough to crack teeth. The second his eyes landed on her, some of the rage faded immediately. “Princess—”
“This is my fault,” she said. The words came out sharper than she intended, and Butcher’s expression hardened instantly.
“No, it’s not your fault,” he insisted.
“Yes,” she snapped, backing away from him. “My father is trying to kill you because of me.”
“I’ve had worse happen to me, honey,” he said.
“That’s not the point,” she spat. Emotion climbed painfully into her throat. God, she hated this. She hated feeling helpless and weak.
“You should’ve stayed out of this,” she whispered roughly. “You should’ve let me leave.” The second the words left her mouth, Butcher went absolutely still, and Princess realized too late what she’d said.
“No,” he said quietly.
She swallowed hard. “Butcher—”
“No.” He stepped toward her slowly, eyes locked on hers. “Don’t do that.”
Her pulse stumbled. “Do what?”
“Don’t push me away because you’re scared,” he said.
Princess laughed bitterly. “Someone just put a bounty on your head, Butcher. Of course I’m scared.”
“You're worried for me, but not yourself,” he said. That shut her up instantly, because damn him, he was right. She wasn’t scared for herself anymore, but she was terrified for him.
Butcher closed the distance between them completely then, one rough hand catching her jaw before she could look away again. “You listen to me real carefully, Princess.” His voice dropped low and rough. “I knew what kind of danger this was the second you told me who your father was.”
Emotion burned behind her eyes immediately. “And you stayed anyway.”
“Yeah, I did,” he said.
“Why?” she breathed, the tears freely falling down her face now. She genuinely didn’t understand it. Men didn’t choose danger willingly—not for her. Never for her.
Butcher stared at her like the answer was obvious. “Because leaving you to deal with this alone was never an option.” That nearly shattered her completely. Princess looked away quickly, blinking hard. She couldn’t fall apart right now. Butcher’s thumb brushed beneath her eye gently.
“Hey,” he breathed. She hated how soft his voice got with her, and hated how easily it slipped beneath her armor.
“I don’t want you hurt,” she whispered.
Something dark flashed across his face. “Too late for that.”
Her eyes snapped back to his immediately. And suddenly she understood that this wasn’t just about protection anymore. This wasn’t just an obligation or responsibility to him. Butcher was emotionally involved now, and that realization hit hard enough to steal her breath.
“You love me,” she whispered before she could stop herself. Butcher stared at her for one long second, and then his hand slid into her hair slowly.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I do.” Princess stopped breathing entirely.
She felt no hesitation or panic. She knew that there would be no way to deny the truth any longer, and somehow, the truth made everything worse because she believed him.
She believed everything that he told her and everything else she saw in his eyes when he looked at her.
Tears burned unexpectedly behind her eyes, and she hated herself a little for it. Butcher noticed immediately. “Don’t cry, baby.” That absolutely did not help.
“You idiot,” she whispered shakily. “You absolute idiot.”
A rough laugh escaped him. “Probably.”
“You barely know me,” she reminded.
“I know enough,” he breathed. Princess shook her head like maybe she could physically dislodge the emotions threatening to crush her chest.
“This is insane,” she whispered.
“Little bit,” he agreed, pulling her against his body.
“My father wants you dead,” she reminded.
Butcher’s expression turned cold again instantly.
“Then he can come try to kill me himself.” God.
There it was again—that terrifying fearlessness.
Princess stared at him helplessly because she finally understood something important.
Butcher wasn’t going to back down. Not from her father, not from the mob, and not even from death itself if it meant protecting her.
That realization changed everything, because suddenly the thought of losing him hurt more than the thought of going back to Chicago ever had.
“So what now?” she whispered against his chest.
“Now, we fight,” he growled.
Princess barely slept that night. Butcher held her against his chest like he thought somebody might steal her if he loosened his grip for even a second, and under any other circumstances, she probably would’ve found it comforting.
Instead, fear sat heavily in her stomach.
It wasn’t fear of her father, or even of the bounty on their heads.
It was the fear of losing Butcher. That realization alone was enough to make her feel sick.
She stared out into the darkness of his bedroom while his heartbeat thudded steadily beneath her ear.
Every once in a while, his hand would drift along her back absently, like even half-asleep, he needed to reassure himself she was still there.
And every single time he did that, it made her chest hurt worse because no one had ever loved her like this before.
It wasn’t possessive like her father’s love, or strategic like the men her family surrounded themselves with.
Butcher loved her like she was something worth protecting—something precious, and that was a dangerous thing to give a woman who’d spent her whole life feeling owned.
Princess carefully slipped out of bed sometime around three in the morning when she realized sleep wasn’t coming. Butcher stirred in the bed, and she hated that she woke him. “You okay?” he asked roughly, voice thick with exhaustion. Even half asleep, he checked on her first.
Princess forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Just getting water.” His eyes stayed on her for a long second, like he knew she was lying. Then slowly, he nodded.
“Holler if you need me,” he rasped. The simple certainty in his voice nearly broke her. Princess escaped into the kitchen before he could see the emotional overload she was experiencing.
The house was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of crickets outside.
It all felt so painfully normal here, and that was the problem.
She wrapped both hands around a glass of water and leaned against the counter, trying to breathe through the pressure crushing her chest. This was exactly why she never stayed anywhere long, and exactly why she never let herself care too deeply, because love made people reckless.
And Butcher was already reckless enough without adding feelings into the mix.
The sound of a motorcycle approaching outside made her freeze instantly.
Her pulse jumped hard in her chest because it was too late for visitors.
Princess set the glass down carefully before moving toward the window.
She relaxed when she saw Wade getting off his bike.
Only Wade would show up in the middle of the night like this.
“Butcher,” Wade shouted from outside while banging on the front door. “Open the damn door.” Princess opened the door before he could wake the entire county. Wade stopped mid-knock when he saw her.
“Well,” he drawled. “You look emotionally devastated.” Princess glared at him tiredly.
“That’s a weird greeting, Wade,” she muttered.
“I’m a weird guy,” he admitted. That was a fair assessment. Wade stepped inside, carrying a paper bag that smelled suspiciously like burgers and bad decisions.
“Why are you here? It’s the middle of the night,” she said.
“Club business.” He paused dramatically. “And because Butcher hung up on me earlier like a little bitch, I thought that I’d come to see him. He can’t hang up on me this way.” That sounded accurate, although she wanted to point out that Butcher could still beat the hell out of him.
Princess closed the door behind him quietly. “He’s asleep.”
Wade snorted. “Bullshit.” Sure enough, heavy footsteps sounded from the hallway a second later. Butcher appeared shirtless and irritated, tattoos stretching across broad shoulders while sleep still lingered in his eyes.
Princess’s entire train of thought derailed immediately, and damn if Wade didn’t seem to notice. “Oh my God,” he muttered. “You two are disgustingly into each other.”
Butcher flipped him off automatically. “What do you want?” he asked.
Wade tossed the paper bag onto the counter. “I brought food. Also, the guys agreed on the club’s name.” That got Butcher’s attention immediately.
“I thought that we already agreed on Savage Bastards,” Butcher reminded.
Princess crossed her arms. “Oh, this should be terrible.”
Wade looked offended. “It’s a badass name, actually. The guys wanted to give you options,” he said to Butcher. “You know, in case you change your mind about Savage Bastards.’
“Doubtful, but I’ll hear it,” Butcher muttered.
Wade grinned slowly. “Royal Bastards, Mississippi.” Silence filled the room. Princess looked toward Butcher automatically and couldn’t stop herself from laughing.
Butcher rubbed a hand over his jaw roughly. “Jesus Christ.”
“That’s a yes,” Wade announced triumphantly.
Princess watched Butcher carefully as he shook his head. “That’s a no,” he growled. “What happened to Savage Bastards?” he asked.
“You don’t like it?” Wade asked.
“No, I don’t like it, and I’m betting that the rest of the guys had nothing to do with wanting to change the name. This sounds like you, Wade,” Butcher said. Butcher looked deeply unimpressed, and Princess smiled faintly despite herself.
“Listen, if you like the name Savage Bastards, then we’ll keep it,” Wade insisted. “I was just brainstorming and thought that maybe we should take a vote or something.”
“You were all for the name Savage Bastards earlier,” Butcher reminded.
“Yeah,” Wade agreed, “I just wanted to feel like I have a say in all this.”
“The club was your fucking idea,” Butcher said.
“You have a big say in everything we do, but we don’t have to change the name for you to have a voice in this.
” And there it was again—that warmth spreading through the room whenever these men talked about the club.
It was something she’d never really understood before—brotherhood and family.
Not a real family anyway. Her father ruled through fear, but this was loyalty. It was a completely different thing.
Wade reached into the bag and tossed Butcher a folded piece of leather. Princess frowned slightly. “What’s that?” she asked.
Butcher caught it automatically before unfolding it slowly, and then went still.
Princess stepped closer instinctively, and her breath caught.
It was a black and gold patch that said, Savage Bastards MC.
The center patch wasn’t finished yet, but the outline of a skull was already stitched into the leather.
Princess looked up at Butcher, and he stared at the patch like it physically hurt him.
“Wade,” he said quietly, “what the fuck.”
Wade shrugged casually, though emotion flickered behind his grin. “Figured a Prez should probably have colors.”
“I thought you came here to get me to change the name of the club, but then you handed me this patch,” Butcher said. “Why?”
Wade shrugged, “I was just trying to give you some shit. But I like the name you came up with, man. As long as I have a say in things, I’m good with whatever,” he said.
The silence that followed felt strangely emotional, and suddenly, Princess understood something important.
This wasn’t just Butcher protecting her anymore.
This club and these men were saving him, too—one patch at a time.