BOUND BY HATRED | TOM KAULITZ

CHAPTER NINETEEN | TYRA KÄUTNER |

•TYRA KÄUTNER•

I have to leave early the next morning, because I've got a literature class I don't want to miss. I've been buckling down this semester, actually passing my classes. I think it's time to quit fucking around and finish my degree.

Tom doesn't want me going anywhere until this thing with Zajac has come to a head, but he finally relents under the condition that Nessa and I have one of his men drive us to school.

Unfortunately, the only person available is Bill.

Under orders from Tom, he opens the car door for me with forced politeness, but waves of loathing are rolling off him and me. The tension in the car is so thick that poor Nessa is wide eyed and confused, too uncomfortable to engage in her usual stream of cheerful conversation.

"So, uh, did you guys see there's supposed to be some kind of meteor shower tonight?" she asks us.

Bill grunts from the driver's seat.

I'm looking at the back of his head, wondering if it would be worth another fight with Tom to just pop Bill once in the ear when we pull up to campus.

"What?" I say to Nessa.

"I said — oh, never mind."

Bill drops us off in front of the library, his eyes fixed rigidly ahead as he waits for us to get out of the car.

"Thank you, Bill," Ness says politely as she climbs out.

"Yeah, thanks Billy Boy," I mutter to him on my way out the door.

I can see his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel and practically hear his molars grinding together.

I slam the door behind me just to annoy him all the more, and then I head off to class, hoping Bill will be too irritated to pick me up again afterward.

I keep sneaking my phone out during class, to see if my brothers have texted me. Or Tommy. I know they're hunting down the Butcher.

I hope they're all together, whatever they're doing. Zajac scares me. I know where he came from. There's a difference between growing up in a criminal family and fighting your way up in the criminal world. The Butcher is playing this game to win or to die. There's no middle ground for him.

So I'm glad my brothers aren't alone in this.

But I'm annoyed that, yet again, I'm being left out of the action. This morning, I demanded Tom to take me with him, but he refused before the words were even out of my mouth.

"No, Tyra. We have no idea where the Butcher is or how far he plans to take this. We could be walking into an ambush everywhere we go."

"Then why are you going? Send someone else. Like Bill," I said hopefully.

"This isn't a younger twin brother kind of job. Zajac is not fucking around. He didn't just shoot at us last night, he hit two cops. We have no idea how far he plans to take this."

"I know people that know his people. I can help," I insisted.

Tom seized me by the arm, hard enough to hurt.