41. RAVEN

41

RAVEN

I'm ordering a present for Maddy. I never give her anything. There's nothing she can't get herself, except this red Amaryllis. It comes from South Africa. You need an actual agricultural permit to ship it, and it has to be transported in a special container. But I have a way around all this legal stuff.

I've lived hundreds of days a year by inertia, moving day to day, going about in the familiar way just doing my job. Long dark evenings smoking and reading. Days, unremarkable and all the same, etched with occasional parties and flareups in Port Mrei. Until I started looking forward to the moments—minutes, seconds—randomly meeting her gaze during the day here and there, catching glimpses of her in the distance. Those moments brought more emotions than anything in years. Feeling something. Something that started filling up my entire existence.

I know I fucked up. The rules of life were always simple. Don't get a weakness. Don't get tied up. Keep yourself to yourself.

Right now, there's nothing more I want than for her to be my weakness, get tied up with her in about anything. Until the reminder of how dangerous it is comes as a message from Butcher.

Butcher: Up for a talk?

Butcher doesn't talk on the phone. When he wants to talk, he arranges a meeting. What's more dangerous than declining a meeting with Butcher? Ignoring him.

It's late afternoon when a team of six of us ride to the port.

Same getup. Bulletproof vests—there's no need to hide the fact that everything in Port Mrei breathes danger. We all have our guns. We are all slightly on edge, and it's been a long time since I've felt this way.

We disembark at the port, and the entire port security team is on full alert, guns out, tower snipers on.

Butcher and I agree to meet right at the port's gates. The gates stay closed most of the time these days. The snipers in the towers have their eyes on the area right outside the gates so there are no surprises.

Me and my five guys line up in front of the gates. We get a signal from the snipers that Butcher is here, so when the gates slide open, Butcher and a group of his men stand right in front of us.

What makes me tick inwardly is the sight of one of his guys. I know that face. I've seen his file. Only months ago, he was one of ours. Until he killed his friend, O'Shea, and escaped Zion.

Cunningham has a crooked smirk on his face, his chin lifted cockily. He knows I recognize him. Butcher knows who Cunningham is. And this is just another way to rub it into our faces.

"In these grim times, it looks like you are thriving," Butcher tells me.

That's an unusual start to a conversation.

"What makes you say so?"

"Your girl." Butcher cocks a smile.

Fuck you.

"She is a beauty."

I'll fucking kill him. "She is none of your business."

He pouts his lips as if offended. "You are my business, Raven. I hope you don't get your hopes all up for someone like her. She comes from a different place."

I don't interrupt. I'm sure he is getting to a point.

"You and me, we are not like them. We don't get blinded by promises of a bright future when we know that this world is a giant pond of shit."

Wrong, but he is on a roll.

"You assume you are worthy of her. Or anyone at that resort. But you are a nobody who reached blinding heights. She? She might be playing Cinderella, but she is a princess, one of the Elites, isn't she? She grew up kicking peasants like you around."

He is saying all the right things. My question is why he is fixated on Maddy. Unless he knows . If he knows , that means he is connected to Tsariuk. If Tsariuk knows, well… Fuck…

"I need to speak with Mr. Chancellor, and I need to do that while you are here," Butcher says.

I bait him. "Are you going to tell him that one of his former guards who committed murder and escaped is working for you now?"

Butcher laughs but doesn't even turn in Cunningham's direction.

Cunningham doesn't say anything either, his gloating stare on me.

Scumbag.

Butcher locks his hands at his belly and cocks his head as he watches the seagulls, his gaze roaming the guard tower while at it.

"You see, Raven, you have no proof of who committed the crime." He turns to study the other tower, so fucking calm it pisses me off. "And guards are allowed to breach their contracts and change jobs."

"Not true. They are supposed to breach them legally. And leave Ayana."

"Semantics. There are a lot of illegal things going on at Ayana. You"—he shifts his gaze at me—"should know. You are the king of"—he rounds his eyes for emphasis—"the darknet," he says in a spooky voice.

"We have a separate protocol for traitors."

"Your pretty resort is full of traitors," Butcher says.

My blood boils. I can't stand his self-entitled wisdom.

"So, Mr. Crone," Butcher reminds me.

I pick up my phone and dial Archer. When he picks up, I say, "You are on speaker. Butcher wants to talk to you."

"Mr. Crone!" Butcher says. "You realize that all this chaos is happening because you are waltzing around the issues that need to be resolved. Issues with some powerful people."

At first, I think he is talking about himself. What a narcissist, and openly at that. But when Archer is quiet, Butcher lifts his eyes at me, that sleazy smile on his lips as he says, "I had a chat with Mr. Tsariuk earlier today."

Instantly, my mind is on full alert. Can't be.

Butcher narrows his eyes on me, gauging the effect of his words on me.

"From my conversation with him, I got a feeling that there is some sort of misunderstanding between you two, no?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Archer finally says.

"Oh." Butcher widens his eyes in mock surprise. "My bad. He didn't clarify. I assumed that you two talk."

"What do you have to do with Tsariuk?"

"Oh, just business. I'm a small pawn, but he was interested in a buffer territory for moving some shipments through Zion."

"Shipments through Zion go through Raven. Tsariuk has no business talking to you about that."

Butcher's widening smile doesn't reach his eyes. "That's what I told him. This is what I'm telling you, Mr. Crone. There is some sort of misunderstanding here. I hope you sort it out."

His sleaziness makes my blood boil. He is smarter than most criminals I know. Not every criminal is willing to diminish his worth in front of his partners and enemies or play a victim for the sake of manipulation. Butcher is a narcissist, but he is also a fucking genius. And now I don't know if he really was contacted by Tsariuk or not, if they had that conversation, and if they did, I'm pretty sure Tsariuk has other business on this island besides some bullshit shipments.

Fuck

Fuck.

Fuck!

"Bye-bye now!" Butcher says sweetly and grins as I cut the call. "Well, Raven? This town seems a bit complicated these days. There are some disturbances I have a hard time keeping under control. Maybe we can make a deal."

And that's when I realize there won't be another deal with Butcher. There can't be any deals. He doesn't honor any, nor does he give a shit about Ayana's authority anymore.

I nod toward Cunningham and look Butcher straight in the eyes. "Give me that guy. He needs to pay for what he did. Then we talk about the deal."

"Oh, I don't think so. He is quite useful."

This is not diplomacy. This is a provocation. And I am done dancing to Butcher's violin.

"Last chance, Butcher. I don't like traitors. Neither do you."

"Unless they have valuable info."

"He is a murderer and scum," I repeat harshly.

Spit lands at my feet, and I shift my eyes to Cunningham, who scowls at me and says, "Careful there. Unless you want your pretty lady to end up in Port Mrei and make rounds among… scum ." He chuckles maliciously.

And the words make me see red.

I am patient. I've played this game for too long. I've given Butcher enough time to make things work. But if they want war? They will get war. And if I can't fight against them all, I will eliminate them one by one.

This is a rash decision. But he just threatened Maddy.

In a second, I snatch my automatic gun, point at Cunningham, and fire.

The bullet goes right through his forehead, throwing him back.

"Hold still!" someone shouts as guns are drawn and my guards point their guns at the barrels of Butcher's men.

I lower my gun as I meet Butcher's eyes. He only smiles at me, his gaze hardening. I know what it means. We both do.

"Hold still!" someone shouts from behind me.

Butcher knows it's not his territory. So, he starts slowly stepping back, his men with cocked guns following. The gates start closing, leaving Cunningham's dead body, which no one claims, right behind them.

"Fuck," one of the guards whispers.

Indeed. But this was a long time coming.

And the last thing I see before the gates close is Butcher's face, no smile, his eyes on me as he draws his forefinger in a straight line across his neck.

The silent war between Ayana and Port Mrei started a while ago.

But now, it is openly declared.