Part 1Bleeding On Your Blade

My name is Dean.

Down at the harbor, they just call me "The Butcher."

Not because I’m a violent man by nature, but because whether it was the local loan sharks, drunks looking for a fight, or deadbeats trying to skip out on their tabs—every single one of them had met the dull edge of my heavy gutting knife.

I used that blade to carve out a life for my younger brother, Sam. I bought a roof over his head, paid his tuition, and built a safety net so thick he wouldn't have to worry about a thing for the rest of his natural life.

He just got into a good college. I was immensely proud.

I had raised him right. I hadn't let her down.

But right now, he was pacing the living room, threatening to throw it all away to meet some girl he fell in love with on the internet.

My mind immediately flashed to the true-crime podcasts, the catfishing schemes, the kids who vanished into the ether.

Panic spiked hot and fast in my chest. I grabbed my gutting knife from the kitchen counter and slammed it into the cutting board.

"Break it off. Right now. You hear me?"

Sam jumped out of his skin. The phone slipped from his hands, clattering onto the hardwood floor.

I bent down, intending to block and delete the girl myself.

But then the screen lit up.

A notification popped over a lock-screen photo of a woman. She had striking, vibrant features—the kind of devastating beauty you usually only see on movie posters.

It was Audrey Hayes.

The same Audrey Hayes who, ten years ago, told me she couldn't stand the reek of fish guts on my skin anymore, packed her bags, and walked out of my life for good.

I went very still. I ran my thumb over the scarred, wooden handle of my knife, and let out a low, hollow laugh.

"Get your coat," I said. "I'm driving you to meet her."

Sam was huddled in the corner, sniffling, totally missing the shift in the room.

"Okay, okay... I won't talk to her anymore... but Dean, she’s so pretty..."

I yanked the knife from the board and tossed it into the sink with a loud metallic clatter.

He flinched. A little bubble of snot formed at his nose as he stared at me, dumbfounded.

"I said, I'm taking you to meet her."

He scrambled up from the floor, throwing his arms around me like I was his savior.

"Oh my god, Dean, you're the best! I've never felt this way about anyone, I swear. Thank you!"

I rolled my eyes. Yeah, right. There wasn't a pretty girl in this entire coastal town he hadn't claimed to "truly love."

The next day at 4:30 PM, I finished hosing down my stall. I had sold out early.

I climbed into my rusted, paint-peeling Chevy truck, Sam riding shotgun, and we headed toward the upscale café she had picked.

With the windows rolled down, the hot summer wind blew through the cab, carrying the unmistakable, metallic scent of fish scales that clung to my clothes.

Suddenly, I was eighteen again.

Standing in the heavy shade of the oak trees at the edge of the harbor. The afternoon sun was backlighting her, making her look ethereal, like a girl stepping out of a dream.

But the words slipping from her mouth had frozen the blood in my veins.

She was facing her rich new friends, her back to me.

"I can't stomach the smell of fish on him anymore. It's disgusting. But I don't have to pretend anymore. My mother and I are finally moving back to the city for a better life."

The sunlight today felt exactly like it did back then. Harsh and unforgiving.

When we pulled up to the café, I caught my reflection in the tinted glass of the front door. Unruly hair, sun-weathered skin, my mouth set in a grim, rigid line. I looked down at my hands as I pushed the door open. Thick, calloused knuckles. Faded scars crisscrossing my skin.

Exactly what she hated.

I told Sam to wait outside in the truck. I needed to "test her character" first.

The person waiting at the corner booth had arrived early. They were hiding their face behind a massive, obnoxious bouquet of red roses.

I assumed it was Audrey. The thought of this grown woman manipulating my eighteen-year-old brother made my fingers twitch for the knife I’d left in the truck.

I slammed my fist down on the table. The bouquet crushed inward, splitting down the middle.

I finally saw the face behind the flowers.

It was a man. Balding, beady eyes, trembling as he stared up at me.

"W-who are you? What do you want?"

Damn it. Wrong table.

I was just opening my mouth to apologize when someone tapped lightly on my shoulder.

I turned around, and Audrey’s beautiful face was mere inches from mine.