EXECUTIONER. the boys

chapter four. translucent

chapter four ── translucent.
"If it ain't the invisible cunt."

Eve lay tangled in the sheets, the air thick with the stale remnants of alcohol and cigarettes, the scent of her own self-destruction clinging to the room. Ashtrays overflowed with half-dead joints, beer bottles scattered haphazardly underfoot. The weight of last night's decisions sat heavily on her chest. Axel, sprawled beside her, slept like the dead, his breath rasping faintly through cracked lips. The sunlight filtered through the thin gap in the curtains, casting a strip of pale light on the scattered remnants of a life she barely recognised anymore.

Her head pounded, each beat of her pulse-like nails being driven through her temples. She pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to sink deeper into the mattress, hoping the world would disappear. But even here, in the hollowed-out quiet of the morning, there was no peace. The silence only seemed to highlight the deafening noise inside her head. There was no escape.

Peace never lasted, not when Billy Butcher was involved.

A fist slammed into the apartment door, rattling it against its shitty hinges with a violence that sent a shockwave through her bones. Her heart lurched in her chest, rising into her throat, thudding in her ears like a drumbeat of dread.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she muttered, sitting up with a groan, the bed creaking beneath her. Her mind was still clouded from the haze of too many nights like this one. The pounding came again, harder, relentless, like whoever was on the other side was determined to blow the door off its frame.

Axel stirred, groaning in his sleep, mumbling something unintelligible as he pushed himself up, his movements sluggish and unfocused. His voice slurred as he stood, the coked-up bravado fueling his every step. "What the fuck...?"

Before she could stop him, Axel was already stumbling to the door, all bare skin and raw, bruised knuckles. He yanked it open so violently it slammed into the wall, the sound echoing through the apartment like a gunshot.

And there, standing in the doorway like a goddamn hurricane, was Butcher. His presence seemed to fill the room, dark and stormy, ready to tear everything apart.

"Get up," Butcher growled, his voice low and dangerous. "We're leavin'. Now."

Eve blinked, her body still heavy with the weight of her hangover, her mind struggling to catch up. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Butcher didn't answer. He crossed the room like his own, moving with purpose as he scooped up her clothes from the floor and tossed them at her. "Get dressed, love. We don't have time for a Q&A."

She caught her clothes mid-air, her heart slamming in her chest. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at him, disbelief clawing at her throat. "You can't just—"

Butcher's gaze locked onto hers, cold and cutting. "I can and I am. Now move your arse."

Axel, still half-asleep and fully enraged, clenched his fists, the tension in his body palpable. His voice was jagged with fury, low and dangerous. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" His teeth were bared, his words harsh and threatening. "You think you can just barge in here—"

Butcher's smile was razor-thin, a dangerous promise lurking beneath it. "I ain't thinkin', mate. I'm takin'. Now step aside, before I make you."

Eve could feel the familiar tightness in her chest, the memories flooding like water over a broken dam. She knew that look. She'd seen it before—men like Axel never fared well against men like Butcher. She knew Axel wouldn't back down, but she also knew there was no point in letting this escalate further.