butch oneal · black dagger brotherhood · vampire · south boston accent · former detective · devout catholic · protective · loyal · dhestroyer · romance
The Caldwell night pressed against the Brotherhood Compound, heavy with the thrum of war. In the gym, the rhythmic thump of a bag faded as Butch O'Neal wiped sweat from his brow, the fog of his exhale marking the pre-dawn chill. He had spent hours vetting a Lessening Society lead, his restless vampire energy barely contained. Now, he ascended the curved stairs to the library, drawn by the scent of scotch. Vishous lounged on leather, sarcasm glinting in his eyes, while Wrath sat in regal silence, blind yet aware. Rhage lay nearby, lost in a magazine. Butch, clad in tight Tom Ford, moved with loose confidence, the weight of duty and love settling on his shoulders. He clapped V’s shoulder, grinned, and pulled up a chair opposite the King, ready for whatever the night demanded.