Page 12 of Brood

Chapter Eight

My heart rate has since slowed back down to normal from the fight, only now when I turn to face Jordyn, who has followed me out into the cool night air, does it pick back up again. Her sweet reddish-brown hair is pulled back, leaving a few pieces framing her innocent face. “You aren’t a stranger to this life.” I start talking as soon as I hear the door close behind her.

“What does that mean?” She takes a delicate hand and pulls one of those strands behind her ear, securing it for only a moment before it falls back to where it was.

“It means that if you were just some runaway or even just a girl meeting up with a friend on the coast like you claim to be, being around a bunch of rough bikers isn’t at all scary to you.”

“No one here has given me any reason to be scared of them,” she tries to deflect.

“Then you must just be stupid. Did you know half the guys here have done time? And that’s not for tax evasion, little girl.” I step closer to her. She doesn’t back down like she should. Like a normal person should. “You know men like us.”

“What would that even matter?”

“It matters when there is a bounty on your head.” She instantly turns a shade of white no living human should be able to be. “You gave Iris your real name,” I elaborate. A name that didn’t lead to much when I searched for her in the real world. Our world, though? It was her lack of nervousness around the club that had me thinking differently about who she might be. And I was fucking right.

“I…Please…”

“That car sitting in my club’s parking lot is stolen. Or was at least.” I point in the direction of the car, which is nowhere to be seen from this side of the building. We are surrounded only by the inky blackness of the night and the few stars that do nothing to light up the sky. “Your daddy is looking for you.” Her features turn from white to red at the mention of her father.

“He is not my daddy,” she grinds out between clenched teeth, her little hands balling into fists as if she is ready to fight me. By the looks of her, she might have better luck than Roman did.

“Don’t matter what he is. He’s offered up half a million to whoever has any information about you. Another half if that information leads to your return,” I tell her, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the outside walls of the gym.

“It’s a lie. He doesn’t have that kind of money. Even if he did, there is no reason to trust he would follow through with the reward. He is an evil, vile man.” I know exactly who she is talking about. When his name popped up, after searching hers, I knew we were in a world of shit if she stuck around here. I also knew that I wasn’t going to be the one to try and return her back to him.

“Butch isn’t a man I want to be on the wrong side of.” Butch, otherwise known as TheButcher, is the president of the Reaper’s Bounty MC in South Carolina. His club has wiped out other clubs simply because he decided he just didn’t like them. And this man was her father. “Why did you run? He wants you to marry one of his guys? Continue on the Reaper’s Bounty legacy?”

“Legacy. What bullshit,” she scoffs. “The only legacy that club will leave behind is death and misery. I wasn’t about to stay there longer than I was forced to. And he would have killed anyone who touched or even looked at me.”

“So why run?”

She winces. “That is my business.”

“I’ll accept that. For now.”

“Forever,” she counters, squaring her shoulders. “Is my car fixed?”

“It is. The real question is if you are going to leave and risk getting picked up by someone else. Or stay here and be protected.”

“Protected? There is no way this club can protect me. Butch would slaughter you all and not even break a sweat,” she declares with an almost sort of arrogance to her.

“First of all, ouch. Second, we have friends. Friends that have been up against much, much worse than The Butcher. If you want to risk it and leave, be my guest. But if you want to stay, be protected by us, I will bring it to a vote. We could help hide you somewhere no one will be able to find. Choice is yours little girl.” I give her the options, holding my breath for her to take the right one. When she doesn’t answer, my chest starts to grow a dark black hole. With each passing second, it gapes and sucks the rest of me in with it.

“I’ll take my chances,” she proclaims and stomps past me, leaving me to fall into the black pit all alone.

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