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“Yeah, I did,” he said.

“Why?” she breathed, the tears freely falling down her face now. She genuinely didn’t understand it. Men didn’t choose danger willingly—not for her. Never for her.

Butcher stared at her like the answer was obvious. “Because leaving you to deal with this alone was never an option.” That nearly shattered her completely. Princess looked away quickly, blinking hard. She couldn’t fall apart right now. Butcher’s thumb brushed beneath her eye gently.

“Hey,” he breathed. She hated how soft his voice got with her, and hated how easily it slipped beneath her armor.

“I don’t want you hurt,” she whispered.

Something dark flashed across his face. “Too late for that.”

Her eyes snapped back to his immediately. And suddenly she understood that this wasn’t just about protection anymore. This wasn’t just an obligation or responsibility to him. Butcher was emotionally involved now, and that realization hit hard enough to steal her breath.

“You love me,” she whispered before she could stop herself. Butcher stared at her for one long second, and then his hand slid into her hair slowly.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I do.” Princess stopped breathing entirely. She felt no hesitation or panic. She knew that there would be no way to deny the truth any longer, and somehow, the truth made everything worse because she believed him. She believed everything that he told her and everything else she saw in his eyes when he looked at her.

Tears burned unexpectedly behind her eyes, and she hated herself a little for it. Butcher noticed immediately. “Don’t cry, baby.” That absolutely did not help.

“You idiot,” she whispered shakily. “You absolute idiot.”

A rough laugh escaped him. “Probably.”

“You barely know me,” she reminded.

“I know enough,” he breathed. Princess shook her head like maybe she could physically dislodge the emotions threatening to crush her chest.

“This is insane,” she whispered.

“Little bit,” he agreed, pulling her against his body.

“My father wants you dead,” she reminded.

Butcher’s expression turned cold again instantly. “Then he can come try to kill me himself.” God. There it was again—that terrifying fearlessness. Princess stared at him helplessly because she finally understood something important. Butcher wasn’t going to back down. Not from her father, not from the mob, and not even from death itself if it meant protecting her. That realization changed everything, because suddenly the thought of losing him hurt more than the thought of going back to Chicago ever had.

“So what now?” she whispered against his chest.

“Now, we fight,” he growled.

Princess barely slept that night. Butcher held her against his chest like he thought somebody might steal her if he loosened his grip for even a second, and under any other circumstances, she probably would’ve found it comforting. Instead, fear sat heavily in her stomach. It wasn’t fear of her father, or even ofthe bounty on their heads. It was the fear of losing Butcher. That realization alone was enough to make her feel sick.

She stared out into the darkness of his bedroom while his heartbeat thudded steadily beneath her ear. Every once in a while, his hand would drift along her back absently, like even half-asleep, he needed to reassure himself she was still there. And every single time he did that, it made her chest hurt worse because no one had ever loved her like this before. It wasn’t possessive like her father’s love, or strategic like the men her family surrounded themselves with. Butcher loved her like she was something worth protecting—something precious, and that was a dangerous thing to give a woman who’d spent her whole life feeling owned.

Princess carefully slipped out of bed sometime around three in the morning when she realized sleep wasn’t coming. Butcher stirred in the bed, and she hated that she woke him. “You okay?” he asked roughly, voice thick with exhaustion. Even half asleep, he checked on her first.

Princess forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Just getting water.” His eyes stayed on her for a long second, like he knew she was lying. Then slowly, he nodded.

“Holler if you need me,” he rasped. The simple certainty in his voice nearly broke her. Princess escaped into the kitchen before he could see the emotional overload she was experiencing.

The house was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of crickets outside. It all felt so painfully normal here, and that was the problem. She wrapped both hands around a glass of water and leaned against the counter, trying to breathe through the pressure crushing her chest. This was exactly why she never stayed anywhere long, and exactly why she never let herself care too deeply, because lovemade people reckless. And Butcher was already reckless enough without adding feelings into the mix.

The sound of a motorcycle approaching outside made her freeze instantly. Her pulse jumped hard in her chest because it was too late for visitors. Princess set the glass down carefully before moving toward the window. She relaxed when she saw Wade getting off his bike. Only Wade would show up in the middle of the night like this.

“Butcher,” Wade shouted from outside while banging on the front door. “Open the damn door.” Princess opened the door before he could wake the entire county. Wade stopped mid-knock when he saw her.

“Well,” he drawled. “You look emotionally devastated.” Princess glared at him tiredly.

“That’s a weird greeting, Wade,” she muttered.