Chapter 18
BUTCHER
War rooms looked different in biker bars. They were less polished. There was a hell of a lot more whiskey, but the atmosphere felt exactly the same—tense and focused. Violence seemed to be waiting patiently in the corners.
Butcher sat at the head of the table with Princess in his lap while the men around him argued routes, backup plans, and who got first crack at breaking Marco’s jaw if he showed his face in Mississippi again. And honestly, it felt strangely natural, like slipping back into old skin.
Princess leaned lightly against his chest while Wade waved a pool cue around dramatically. “I’m saying if Chicago sends men down here, we should absolutely meet them at the state line with bats.”
Tank nodded, “That would be symbolic.”
Princess blinked at him. “You people are insane.”
“Correct,” Draven answered immediately.
Butcher’s hand slid absently along her hip while he listened to the chaos around the table. This was his club, and that reality hit him hard. It was weird that he was part of a club again. Not a bad weird, not anymore at least. For the first time in ten years, he didn’t feel alone.
The front door of the bar opened suddenly, cutting through the noise, and every biker in the room went still instantly. Eyes shifted toward the entrance automatically, and Butcher relaxed when Vengeance walked in first, with Chloe Savage right behind him.
Princess sat up straighter immediately in Butcher’s lap.
The Huntsville Prez looked exactly like the kind of man people learned not to cross—tall, tattooed, carrying violence in every movement.
But Chloe nearly blew his mind. Savage’s daughter looked so much like her old man that it nearly punched Butcher straight in the chest. She had his same dark eyes, same fearless expression, and the same energy that screamed she’d burn the world down while smiling if somebody threatened her people.
The entire bar went quiet as they approached the table, and Chloe stopped directly in front of Butcher and crossed her arms. “You look old.” Butcher barked out a laugh before he could stop himself.
“There’s the Savage I remember.” Her expression cracked instantly. Emotion flickered there briefly before she shoved at his shoulder.
“You disappeared for ten damn years,” Chloe said.
“Yeah, I did. Sorry about that, kid,” he said.
“You couldn’t call?” she asked. He could have, but there was no way that he was ready to crawl back to Savage and eat crow back then. He was a different man, but now, he’d do just about anything to get another five minutes with his old friend.
“I could have, but wasn’t ready to admit that I was fallible back then,” he said, giving her the honest truth. Chloe rolled her eyes like she wanted to stay mad at him, but couldn’t fully manage it.
Her attention shifted toward Princess, and softened immediately. “Well,” she muttered. “Okay, now I get it.”
Princess blinked, “What do you get?” she asked.
Chloe snorted. “Honey, this man hated everybody when I was growing up.” She pointed at Butcher. “He once threatened to stab a bartender because she played country music too loud.”
“It was bad country music,” Butcher insisted.
“That’s not the point,” Chloe muttered.
Vengeance dropped into a chair nearby, shaking his head slowly.
“You’re definitely Savage’s Enforcer.” The title hit differently coming from another Bastard.
Butcher didn’t feel like a painful jab this time.
In fact, he felt pride at the mention of his old position.
Butcher leaned back slightly, tightening his arm around Princess instinctively.
“So,” Vengeance said calmly, “let’s talk about the Romano problem.”
The room sobered immediately. They were getting right down to business. Princess stiffened slightly against Butcher, and he noticed instantly. His hand squeezed her hip gently. He was silently letting her know that he had her, and she seemed to relax a fraction.
Vengeance spread several papers across the table. “We’ve been digging since the bounty dropped.” His expression darkened. “Romano’s desperate.”
Chloe nodded, “The marriage alliance fell apart after Princess ran.”
Princess went still in Butcher’s lap. “You okay?” he murmured quietly. She nodded, but tension rolled through her anyway.
Vengeance continued. “The family Princess was supposed to marry into pulled support after she disappeared. Romano’s losing power in Chicago because it made him look weak.”
“Couldn’t happen to a nicer bastard,” Wade grumbled.
“He’s escalating because he needs control back,” Chloe added. “And right now, Princess is the symbol of him losing it. He wants her back so that he can make an example out of her.” Butcher’s jaw tightened immediately. Nobody was turning her into a damn example.
“She’s not going back,” he said flatly.
“Wasn’t suggesting she should,” Vengeance replied calmly. “But we got two choices here.”
The room quieted. “Either we wait for Romano to keep coming—” A dangerous smile spread slowly across Vengeance’s face.
“or we end this now.” Princess’s breathing caught softly against Butcher’s chest, and he looked down at her immediately.
Fear flickered in her eyes. He was sure that it wasn’t for herself, but for him.
Christ. This woman was going to be the end of him.
“You’re talking about starting a war,” she whispered.
Chloe looked her dead in the eye. “No, honey.” Her expression turned cold. “We’re talking about sending a message. We’re going to finish a war that your father started when he promised you to another man as a business deal.”
The room went silent, and Butcher understood immediately.
Savage used to say the same thing before retaliation runs.
He said that they were sending messages to clubs that didn’t want to play nicely.
That’s what clubs like the Royal Bastards specialized in.
The terrifying part in all of this was that the old instincts came rushing back so naturally that it almost scared him.
All of it was settling comfortably into place again, for exactly who he was.
Princess looked up at him slowly. “You already know what you’re going to do, don’t you?” she asked. She saw him too clearly now.
Butcher brushed his thumb lightly across her hip. “Yeah.”
Emotion flashed across her face instantly. “Someone could die.”
Butcher held her gaze steadily. “Baby, somebody already declared war against you, so that means they declared war against us.”
Princess surprised everyone as she slowly stood up from his lap and looked around the table at every biker there. “If you do this—” Her voice shook slightly before steadying again. “You’re all risking yourselves because of me.”
Trigger snorted. “Yeah, that’s kinda how clubs work.”
Lynch nodded his agreement. “You’re family now.”
Princess looked completely blindsided by that word—family.
Butcher stood slowly beside her before she could get overwhelmed by the emotion building in the room, and he did something he hadn’t done in over a decade.
He reached for the cut lying across the back of his chair, with the new, partially finished Savage Bastards patch on it.
The unfinished patch felt heavy in his hands.
The room went silent as he slid it onto his shoulders.
Princess stared at him like she had stopped breathing entirely.
And honestly, he understood why. Because the second the leather settled against his back, he stopped feeling like a man running from his past. He felt like a Prez.
Chloe smiled at him. “There he is.” Butcher looked around the room slowly at his brothers, at the woman he loved, and the family he somehow found again when he thought that part of his life was dead forever.
Then his eyes hardened. “Romano wants a war?” A dangerous grin spread across his face slowly. “Let’s show him what happens when somebody threatens the Royal Bastards.”
Mississippi storms hit hard. The sky cracked open just after midnight, thunder rattling the walls of Wade’s bar while rain hammered against the roof hard enough to drown out half the noise inside. It was the perfect weather for violence.
Butcher stood near the front window wearing his cut while lightning flashed across the parking lot outside.
The leather settled more heavily on his shoulders tonight, making everything feel real now.
Behind him, his brothers moved through the bar with controlled purpose—checking weapons and getting everything ready to go to war with Princess’s father.
There was no fear anywhere in the room, which was exactly how it should be.
Princess sat at the end of the bar, wrapped in one of his hoodies, while Chloe stayed beside her, talking quietly.
Every few seconds, Princess’s eyes drifted back toward him automatically.
She was checking on him, and that thought hit him right in the damn chest, because somebody loved him enough to be afraid for him. That was new.
An engine roared outside through the storm, then another, and another. Butcher checked the parking lot to find three black SUVs parked out front of the bar. Wade grinned slowly from beside the jukebox. “Showtime.”
The front doors opened hard enough to slam against the walls, and Marco stepped inside first with six men behind him—all armed.
Her father was sparing no expense when it came to arming his men.
They were all wearing expensive suits that had been ruined by rainwater, and right behind them, Vittorio Romano himself walked into the bar like he owned the world.
He wasn’t taking any chances with Princess.
By showing up himself, he’d guarantee that he’d get the job done.
The problem with his logic was that Butcher had no intention of letting her go—ever.