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I don't know how she does that. My mum kept everything bubbling shallow—anger, delirium, despair. I experienced them all.
Carter trains his gaze to me, and where I usually experience the shift of the patronising stare from men like him, he’s different with me. He considers me as though I'm somehow taller than his seven-foot goon self.
"This is on me," he offers. "I should have known. I've watched over that boy for his entire life. This is exactly like him. I should have—"
"No." Craning my neck to see him better, I realise on a closer look that he isn't as monstrous as I first thought. The skin on his face is smooth like melted wax, glistening and silvery like the moon. He is quite beautiful, really, in a tragic way. "It's not your fault," I confirm. "Has Clay been contacted?"
He shakes his chin stiffly. "We only just realised he wasn't in his suite seconds ago. I don’t know how long for. We had men outside the entire time."
I nod. "Call Clay immediately."
"Yes, Miss Harlow."
Their queen.
CHAPTERTWENTY
clay
It's no morethan two hours into our flight when my phone rings, luring me from my state of restless sleep. From the nightmarish reverie of Bronson tied to that damn chair, of Max demanding theCosa Nostragive him Dustin's head, of my little deer screaming for me to punish her.
Protect her.
Stay with her.
When I'm beside her, below thatdamndreamcatcher, my vicious memories seem to pardon me. Her ideals are a ridiculous comfort, and her soft body settles my pulsing heart.
Blanking my mind.
Sleep a quiet state.
Without her, I'm pulled from this half-dream condition and sit up. Retrieving my phone, I frown at a notification in my inbox from an unknown number. The beginning of said message visible: I have the little—
Ignoring the ring, the incoming call from Carter, as it beckons me to answer it, glued to the message—
Immediately stilled. Ice slides through me. My world blurs around the edges when I open it.
It reads: I have the little Butcher.
All I can hear is my heart between my ears, not the humming of the plane or the engine. Only a deep, thundering drum of hatred in my mind. Carter continues to call, but I decline, and instead dial the unknown number.
"Clay Butcher," Dustin's deep voice rumbles through the phone, his delight hitting my ears like a blade, cutting through ice. "It's been many years."
"Talk." I lock my teeth around the word, staring dead ahead, unable to form further conversation while also appearing in a state of calm. Indifferent. Impartial. That's the power stance, and I'm balancing on the cusp of my control.
Don't feel.
I hiss the rage through my teeth, and Bronson and Max both become alert to my change in demeanour. They watch me closely, and I stare ahead with rage a red blanket over my focus.
He goes on, "The security you have in Dubai is impeccable. I applaud you. I'm, of course, disappointed you didn't seek a safehouse in Indonesia. I would have been happy to see you there. But you knew better. Vinny gave that away. That was a pity. I was fond of him."
"Talk."
"You see, I picked your little brother up trying to get back to the District on a commercial flight. He's slippery, isn’t he? A little too clever. Even for you. Even for Malik." He laughs loudly. "Even for dozens of your soldiers.” His chortles continue, stoking the fire inside me. "The only waywecaught on to him was because we saw a young man wearing Malik's hotel staff uniform, with the remains of a boxing match across hisface.Swollen eye. Split lip. On closer inspection… blueButchereyes. It was the little legend, for sure." He pauses on another condescending huff of amusement, and my knuckles run cold, losing blood, as I fist the phone. "He always was the invisible Butcher, wasn't he? The forgettable one."
I bite back words, using my silence to speak volumes as nothing productive can come from the turmoil heating my Butcher head to an inferno.
"Okay then, Clay. Let me make this clear. It's a simple one. Bring me my daughter, and I'll trade you your little brother. Seventy-two hours. That'll give you time. Meet me out past the docks. There is an old campground. The fire circles it but for one entrance in and… one out. Be there. Come alone but with your brothers and bring my daughter with my unborn grandson. In return, I'll give you an unharmed little Butcher. But if you don't, if you play me—"
