He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Levi, you already went off-book once for her. You stripped his patch without a vote, and the brothers accepted it because you're the Prez and you gave them a damn good reason. But this?—"
"He beat her, Zenon." The words come out harder than I intended. "He beat her so badly she could barely walk. She showed up at my door covered in blood, shaking like a leaf, because she had nowhere else to go. And you want me to sit back and let someone else handle it?"
"I want you to think about what you're doing." His voice is calm, but there's an edge to it. "You're the President. You're supposed to be above this. Supposed to keep your head while everyone else loses theirs. But this woman—" He shakes his head. "She's got you twisted up, brother. I've never seen you like this."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're about to go murder a man for a woman you barely know. That's not fine. That's—" He stops, searching for the word. "That's personal."
Personal.
He's right. It is personal.
I don't know why, can't explain the rage that burns in my chest every time I think about Cain's hands on her, but it's personal.
She's personal.
"I'm going to kill him," I say quietly. "Tonight. I'm going to find him, and I'm going to put him down like the animal he is. And when it's done, I'm going to come back here and make sure she knows she never has to be afraid again."
Zenon stares at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nods. "You want backup?"
"No. This is mine."
"And if it goes sideways? If he's got friends, or weapons, or?—"
"Then it goes sideways." I meet his eyes. "But it won't. You know me, Zenon. You know what I'm capable of."
He does know. He's seen me work. Seen the things I did overseas, the things I've done for this club.
He knows that when I set my mind to something, I don't stop until it's finished.
"His father's a cop," Zenon says quietly. "Chief of Police. You kill Cain, you're making an enemy of the entire Pittsburgh PD."
"Let them come." My voice is cold. Final. "I'll handle it."
Zenon holds my gaze for another beat. Then he steps aside. "Be careful, brother. This one feels different."
He's right about that too.
It is different. She's different, and I don't know what that means yet, but I know one thing for certain.
Cain Varro is going to die tonight.
And I'm going to be the one holding the knife.
I find him at a bar on the south side.
Shitty little dive, the kind of place where nobody asks questions and everybody minds their own business.
He's alone at the bar, nursing a whiskey, muttering to himself.
Probably telling the bartender all about how he got screwed over.
How unfair it all is. How none of it was his fault.
I slip in through the back door.
Nobody sees me.
