by J Bree
"What are you doing here, kid? Way past your bedtime."
The bartender slides a glass over to me with a tip of his head and I eye him like I'm planning where I'm going to stab him, you know, just for shits and giggles. I might. I hate this fucking place enough to risk never coming here again. If the Viper cared about his bartenders enough to ban me from coming back that is, I truly fucking doubt he gives a shit.
Fucker doesn't care about anything except his fights and his money.
"I'm on a job." She says, her eyes never once leaving the crowd though the corner of her mouth lifts into a half smile, something she gives me like it's a peace offering. Fuck knows why she wants to be my friend but no matter what I say to her she's always so fucking nice to me in return.
The worst type of nice too, the genuine type. Like she actually believes I'm worth the respect she gives me, not just that my reputation demands it.
"Oh yeah? You getting cash for that or still hoarding those diamonds like some rich bitch housewife?" I say, sipping at my own drink.
She shrugs. "I've got my own plans for them. Nothing like a safety net to get you through to retirement."
A snort bursts out of me, she's a funny little fucking thing. "Kid, if you make it to retirement you'll be the first fucking miracle to occur in the Bay. Is our friend here tonight or are you flying solo?"
It's a dumb question, even if D'Ardo isn't here tonight then one of his shitty flunkies will be keeping an eye on her for him.
She shrugs again. "He's doing business with the Viper over in the backrooms. Drugs and new girls for the strip joint, I think. I didn't bother with the details."
Bullshit. I don't think this kid misses a goddamn thing that happens around her. "Well, enjoy your night. Make sure you put money on me, the other guy hasn't got a chance."
That half-smile reappears. "They never fucking do."
I throw my bag down in the corner and unzip it, taping my hands securely. No need in busting them up so bad I can't work, not for a run-of-the-mill sort of fight like tonight. The jeering and shouting around me lets me know what my opponent thinks of this.
"Pussies strap up! Afraid of a little pain, Butcher?" The sarcasm drips from the dickhead's voice and I smirk back.
"No fucking point breaking my hands on your death, I have others to rack up this week." I glance up to take the cocky cunt in, the smirk never falling away from his ugly mug.
He's definitely an ex-con. Perfect, the rough and unrefined brawling on someone who's fought in lockup is exactly what I'm craving. I strip off my shirt and roll my shoulders back, pushing the tension out of my muscles until I'm loose and light on my feet again. It's like my body loses the tether it has on the Earth and I'm made of fucking air, quick and impossible to land a real hit on.
The doors at the end of the room open and D'Ardo steps through, with the Viper and a handful of their men following behind him. I jerk my head at him and he smirks back, stalking up to the little girl of his obsession and joining her for a drink as they get ready to watch me fight.
I stride into the cage like it's my second home, because it fucking is. This is where I grew up, learned how to become the man I am, killed for the first time, and made enough money to eat. This is where Johnny Illium became the Butcher, and there isn't a man in the Bay who could best me here.
Especially not some mouthy fucking dickhead who was definitely someone’s bitch in prison. You can always tell, it's the mouthy ones over fucking compensating. I keep that little fucking smirk on my face as the guy walks in after me, laughing and joking with his little buddies like this is a game.
The referee, someone who's just there to call the fights really, steps onto a small platform and shouts, "Last call for your bets. The Butcher verses Diablo, first blood or knockout."
Not fucking likely.
"I'm going to enjoy making you my bitch, Butcher." the guy calls out, blowing me a kiss and yeah, I fucking called it. Some guy wifed this guy up good.
"You won't be breathing in about three minutes dickhead, mark my words."
The bell rings and he pounces at me, all punches and elbows with zero finesse. He doesn't land a single one, his fists barely graze my biceps as I duck and weave. I just need a little opening, just that moment he's off balance and he's fucking mine. Mine to kill and add to the ever-growing tally of men who met the Butcher and become nothing but a leaking corpse in a back alleyway.
The shouts and jeering of the crowd melts away as I watch him, throwing a few punches of my own that land perfectly, and then finally he stumbles, my ankle hooking his and planting him on his ass.
Gotcha.
I throw my mass at him, straddling him and knocking him senseless with a single hit to the temple. I snap a few of his ribs between my knees as I position myself on him, my thighs stronger than his feeble attempts to dislodge me. I can see the whites of his eyes as his spits out onto the mat, wheezing up at me.
"Blood. Th-that's fucking b-blood!"
I grin down at him, my forearm presses over his windpipe, pressing down slowly until I feel the muscles and cartilage give way under me. "Only pussies tap out. I don't fight for anything less than death. Who's the bitch now, Diablo?"
I push up and stand over him as he gasps out, his arms pinwheeling and his fingers scratching at the mat uselessly. Goodnight, motherfucker, I stomp on his chest, over and over again, until I'm sure every damn one of his ribs have snapped and all his internal organs are skewered with bone shards.
Nothing fucking better than listening to the man wheeze and scream, the gurgling sound of him choking on his own blood is like a balm over my fractured and fucked-up soul. Maybe someday this will feel less fucking soothing but when that day comes I'll have to put a bullet in my brain because there isn't much left living for as it is. I can't fucking lose that too.
I look up to find D'Ardo grinning at me as I step out of the cage, motioning me over to the door to get a little peace from the shouting and betting of the crowd. The noise is fucking hell to my ears, even with the high of the kill still thrumming through my veins and I swoop down to grab my shit, pulling a jacket over my shoulders as I follow D'Ardo out into the warm, summer night.
His flunkies all spread out and keep watch over us as if we're about to be jumped by some street punks and I roll my eyes at them as I grab my cigarettes, lighting up and taking a lungful deep into my chest and holding it there for a second.
I feel fucking empty.
Way too soon after a fight to feel like this, fuck, maybe I am losing my edge. If I'm not the Butcher, riding the highs of the hunt and the cage, then who the fuck am I? D'Ardo watches me, quiet for once in his fucking life until the unease I'm feeling spills out.
"You ever get sick of all of this?" The blood on my hands soaks through the paper of my cigarette and gives off a fucked up smell. Even that doesn't make a difference.
D'Ardo shakes his head. "Nope. My man, you need a side project. Something just for you, something to keep your mind busy when everything else is sending you up the fucking wall."
Side project.
He's talking about the little girl he's stalking, the one still sitting up at that bar as if she's not afraid of what goes down in this place. Something dark settles in my gut about it but I brush it off. Doesn't fucking matter, nothing in this city does.
"And what do you think I should do, eh? Find myself some pussy to keep? What the fuck sort of side project does The Butcher take up, anyway?"
D'Ardo chuckles under his breath and shrugs, taking my cigarette and puffing away at it like he doesn't have his own pack in his back pocket. "Once I own my Starbright, I'll have her chained to my bed. Only place to keep pussy is on a leash."
I blow out a breath. Whatever the fuck his mother did to him, it was bad. I've never seen a woman climb out of his bed with her mind intact. I should care more about this, I should give a fuck about what he's doing, but I just can't find my fucking conscience.
"You'll get bored of her like you get bo
red of all the rest." I steal back the cigarette.
He shakes his head. "Nah, there's something about this one. I'm going to take my time in breaking her open because no one else will ever fucking compare."
I take one last deep inhale and flick the butt into a puddle to join the rest of the trash in the alleyway. "You're a sick man, D'Ardo."
He grins back at me. "So are you, Johnny-boy."
Chapter Three
Odie
The only thing worse than finding out my father is a spineless drug addict who has no sense of honor is being stuck in a private jet with him for thirteen hours.
I lock myself in the small bedroom and refuse to come out for the entire flight. I don't get any sleep, instead I stare up at the ceiling and try to convince myself that everything is going to be okay but my mind just keeps skipping back to my mother.
How could she do this?
My father had always treated me poorly but my mother... I truly thought she loved me. At least enough to keep me safe. How many times had she thrown herself in front of me when my father had beaten me? To take that pain for me, only to stand by when my father and his men had shoved me into the car.
After she started drinking too much, right around the time my father began taking her jewelry to sell to pay for his habit, I was so angry about his abuse that I blamed her for staying with him. For being with him in the first place. She is a beautiful woman, even with the alcohol she's more beautiful than me. She could have had any man in the world and yet she chose him, a criminal who profits on the addictions of others. But my anger was never something I spoke to her about and it has long since burned out. I even felt guilty about how much of the hatred I have for my father had been diverted into being upset with her. But she can't have ever really loved me, not if she's let me go like this, without a single word! The grief climbs up my throat and bursts out as sobs that I can't contain.
It's a terrible feeling.
I have no one, nothing, what even is the point of being here? Why should I even continue breathing when every tether I have to this life has just snapped? If I had a knife I would carve my own heart out, just to stop the pain in my chest at this betrayal. The sobbing gets worse, the tears streaming down my face until I'm a wet mess.
I cannot think about my buyer, this man who will be my husband.
I've only ever slept with Louis, something that had come about from years of friendship. He had done his best to protect me from my father's rage, chaperoning me to the beach whenever there were large parties and gatherings at the cottages my father would hide us in. It was always after one of these that he would become violent, the alcohol and drugs mixing into a cocktail of rage in his blood.
How could I possibly have sex with another man? A stranger who values women as property?
A wail bursts out of me unbidden and I know what will happen before the door slams open, my father's face a mask of fury.
"Odette, you are making a spectacle of yourself! Pull yourself together!"
I can't. I can't stop the tears anymore than I can stop this plane.
He grabs a fistful of my hair and drags me from the bed, throwing me to the ground and backhanding me again. "I do not want to hand over damaged goods to Signor Mecedo but if I have to beat the obedience back into you then I will."
I look up at him through my fingers and but I'm hollow, no fear left in me to have at his words. I even consider fighting back for the first time in my life, the anger at this man, a living thing inside me that has consumed everything else, but the sobbing that just will not stop means I can barely lift my hands away from my face. I'm frozen, stuck in this position and this stupid airplane.
He only hits me twice more, this time with a closed fist and to the side of my head where my hair will cover the damage but my brain feels as though I've just stepped off of a merry-go-round, everything spinning and bright.
"You. Will. Obey."
No. The second he says those words to me I know that I really won't obey him. I'll lose myself in my emotions right now and I will bide my time but I will not go along with all of this plan of his. I will find a way out of this terrible mess he's thrown me into.
I clamp my mouth shut around my sobs, clenching my teeth so hard I think they might break, to stifle the noise enough that he will leave me where I'm curled into a ball on the lush carpet. I listen to the sound of his breath heaving until he finally grunts and walks away, the door snicking shut behind him. He couldn't possibly slam it, not with the pilot and stewardesses on board and listening to our every move.
I wonder what they think of the sounds of him hitting me?
I collapse back onto the bed, my head pounding and the tears still streaming from my eyes. I feel bile creeping up the back of my throat as stars dance in front of my eyes. No, it doesn't matter how low I feel. I'm going to make it through this and then I'm going to fight my way out of it too, I just don't know how yet.
Finally after hours and hours have passed with my stomach rebelling and the white of the ceiling burning holes in my eyes one of the attendants comes in to tell me that the plane is about to start its descent. I freshen up in the small bathroom, running my fingers through my hair and washing my face, thankful I hadn't worn any makeup so there's nothing running down my face. Then, deep breath, I take my seat out in the main cabin next to my father, facing my traitorous boyfriend. God, I guess he's now my ex-boyfriend.
I stare at a point above Louis's shoulder, where the stewardesses are sitting, a placid look firmly fixed on my face. I need to get off of this damned airplane without being beaten again.
Then I can plan how to get the hell out of this situation.
"Are you over your little temper tantrum?" my father murmurs, and I keep my stare on the stewardesses instead of him as I nod. I will choke on any words of platitude I try to give him right now so silence is my greatest asset.
"You must realize it's safer for you to be out of France, Odette. I have far too many enemies back home, America will be a better place for you to be."
America.
He's sold me off to an American drug lord. I will be stranded in an entirely alien country, with a language I barely have a grasp on, married to someone whose method of making money I despise.
My vision blurs again as I blink back more tears. They are as useless to me now as they've ever been.
"You will be a very rich woman, your husband has amassed a great wealth in his business." Louis says, and my father laughs.
"She will never see the money, she will live like a prized treasure in his palace. She will never work or leave the building, her every need will be catered for. Honestly, I've given you a gift many women would kill for and all you can do is cry over it? Pathetic."
Louis pulls out his phone and taps away at it. I've never been allowed a phone of my own, never been allowed friends outside of my father's specially curated inner circle. Again, I desperately wish I could sit here and spill Louis's betrayal to my father. To tell him all about the secret meetings we've had over the last few months, how he taught me to pleasure a man, and all of the dirty things he's done to me, but I'm now certain my father would kill me for it.
Whatever he owes this Signor Mecedo, it's a lot and my virginity will be the only thing to cover the tab.
So I keep my mouth sealed shut as the airplane makes its descent and my fate comes rushing towards me.
My father's palm sweats where he's gripping my arm.
Signor Mecedo is much older than me, his jet black hair slicked back like a cap and a fat cigar dangling from his lips as if we aren't standing on a tarmac in the middle of nowhere, the engine of the private jet still blistering hot at our backs as we stand here it what must be the desert… which desert, I have no idea. There isn't a building or customs for us to pass through, and I have no doubt the flight we've just taken was illegal. I'm tense as I wait for hordes of border control to burst out of the bushes like they do in the movies but there's nothing as far as the eye can see, except t
he large SUV's my new husband and his men arrived in and the airplane itself.
I can't understand the conversation happening in Spanish around me, only that Signor Mecedo doesn't look happy. I suppose I'm not to his liking, most men these days want rail-thin women and I have more curves than your average model. My figure is a perfect hourglass, perfect for a man who wants an ass to grip and breasts to feel heavy in his palms.
My father wrenches me around so I'm standing in front of my new husband, staring up into his black, void-like eyes. I fight to stop my lip curling in disgust. He is easily old enough to be my father, maybe even my father's father, and his eyes stay glued on the soft flesh of my breasts peeking out of my blouse.
“Bastará." he murmurs, and my father's hand drops away from my wrist finally.
God, I hope he speaks some English.
I hear the sounds of gravel crunching under feet behind me and I glance over my shoulder to see my father and Louis both walking away from me, without a single word of goodbye. I have no tears left in me, no emotion left in my hollow shell of a body.
Just pure outrage and fury at them both.
I don't let my gaze falter away from the man who has bought me, the man still standing in front of me eyeing me up like I'm a piece of meat and the men behind him openly leering as well.
The second man grabs me, his hands rough around the tops of my arms as he shoves me into the back of the large SUV. I stumble over my feet and fall onto my back against the hot leather of the seats, baking away in the hot summer sun. I've never felt such searing sunlight before, the heat is nothing like the summer's back in France. I move to sit up and right myself when the car door on the other side opens and hand clamp around my arms again, holding me down. I gasp and try to squirm away but the man who just shoved me into the car grabs my thighs and holds me still.