Page 107 of Prince Charming

Sofia being afucking copput invisible shackles on him.

Yeah, she hadn’t been his cleverest decision, that was for damn sure.

TWENTY-SEVEN

“Oh, I do enjoy stirring the pot. Call it a hobby of mine.” – Jay Benz

The air was always wired before a match.

The blood lust and violence.

The adrenaline.

And savageness.

“You feel good?” Asked the Butcher for the tenth time. Tag smirked and flexed the tape around his fingers.

“Yes, dad. I’m good. You’ll make sure you and Roux look after Marianna, yeah?”

“Don’t worry, brother, Roux is with her now.”

“If shit goes wrong…” he started, and Butcher nodded. “No need to worry, we got her.”

Rolling his neck, a throat clearing behind them made him switch his gaze.

Arson was in the doorway. “Okay to come in, Champ?” He asked.

“Where the fuck have you been, asshole?” Tag replied, rising to his feet to stand as Arson approached with a slower stride, hands deep in his jean pockets. He looked sober for once.

Butcher chuckled and clapped Arson on the shoulder, “good to see you, brother. I’ll let you kids kiss and make up, gotta see what trouble my woman is getting into. She brought Chains with her, so anything is possible.”

“Three fucking weeks, you took off, no one knew where you were.”

“I told Prez I was taking some time off.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Taking time off. I thought you were dead.”

Arson winced and rubbed at the unshaven facial hair on his jaw. “I had to get away for a bit. Still got stuff to sort through. I’ve been a shit friend, Tag.”

Tag interrupted him. “I don’t give a fuck about being best friends forever, Jase, I give a fuck about knowing you’re okay. Are you? Okay?”

Arson’s wide shoulders rolled up under hisSoulsleather jacket, half-smiling. “Today I am. Right this second I’m okay.”

“Where did you go?”

“I ended up in Vegas.”

Tag frowned, confused. “What was going on in Vegas?”

“No fucking clue, bro. Woke up in a hotel, smelling of perfume, the room wrecked. So you, know, the usual.” His smile was sad, embarrassed.

Tag got the impression his friend hated himself, or at least his actions.

Laying his taped hand on Arson’s shoulder, he gripped him by the side of the neck. “You okay? Don’t fucking bullshit me.”

Arson nodded, if only to give Tag reassurance. Tag was grateful for it, and relief flooded through him. “Did you know Danny’s Mrs makes good fucking toast?”

Frowning, he stepped back and plonked his ass down. “Danny Murphy? You’re seeing the holy man?”

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