Page 19 of True Bastard
And that in itself was a threat.
“Maybe,” Cerberus conceded, his gaze following mine. “Or maybe she’s exactly what she seems—a woman trying to survive in a fucked-up world. And Jessup just happened to be the one who dragged her down with him. Either way, she’s your collateral, Firestride. And collateral can be... unpredictable.” He finished his drink, setting the glass down with a thud. “You play with fire; you’re bound to get burned. Just make sure you don’t let her burn you too.” He stood, clapping me on the shoulder. “I’m heading out. Got business to take care of.”
As he left, his words echoed in my mind, a grim warning I couldn’t afford to ignore.
I continued to watch Kyllian, her movements fluid despite the humiliation of her costume. She was a paradox, a fragile porcelain doll shattered by a brutal fist, yet still possessing a core of defiance that burned hotter than any wildfire. She was trouble, alright. But she was also the key. The key to Jessup. The key to a debt long overdue. And right now, she was all I had. The thought sent a familiar jolt of something akin to... concern through me. It was a dangerous feeling; one I’d long since buried. But as I watched her navigate the rough waters of the clubhouse, her spirit unbroken, I couldn’t help but wonderif the fire in her was exactly what we needed to bring down the bastards who had wronged us.
My gaze remained fixed on Kyllian, the raw fury radiating from her a stark contrast to the calculated composure she tried to maintain. The spit that had flown from her lips, the defiant glint in her eyes—it was all fuel to the fire she’d ignited within me. She was a force of nature, a wild thing tethered by circumstance, and the sight of her battling the primal urges of the club, the predatory stares of my brothers, was both unnerving and exhilarating. Cerberus’ words about playing with fire echoed in my mind, a chilling reminder of the tightrope I was walking.
Then it happened. A sickening crack, followed by Kyllian’s ragged cry, ripped through the raucous din of the common room. My head snapped up, my eyes locking onto the unfolding scene near the bar. Harem, one of my brothers, had his arm around her, his grin predatory as she fought him. And then, the sickening thud as she smashed a bottle over his head. A beat of stunned silence, and then Harem retaliated, a brutal backhand that split her lip open.
Instantly, I was on my feet, the cold steel of my pistol pressed against Harem’s forehead before my mind could even process the sequence of events.
“Apologize to her. Now,” I snarled, the words ripped from my gut, laced with a fury I rarely unleashed.
“What the fuck, brother?!”
Harem’s defiant glare met mine, his challenge clear, but Morpheus’ booming voice cut through the tension, his authority undeniable.
“Since when do you give a fuck about some club bitch?”
Ignoring Morpheus, I cocked my gun and pressed it harder against Harem’s forehead. “Not asking again.”
“ENOUGH!” Morpheus’ roared command echoed in the silence as I refused to back down. “Harem, apologize now!”
Harem growled but ceded. “Sorry.” His grudged apology, clipped and seething, was a small victory, but the sight of Kyllian, battered and defiant, ignited a fire in me that Cerberus had warned about.
My attention, my focus—it was all on her now.
“Cage your pussy,” Morpheus demanded, his gaze sweeping over me, “then meet me in my office.”
Twenty minutes later, I walked into Morpheus’ office to find him standing in front of the window, staring into the Black Hills that surrounded our clubhouse.
“Close the door, Firestride.”
Doing so, I waited for him to continue. I didn’t have to wait long.
“What is this club’s motto?”
“Bastards by blood, brothers by choice.”
“Remember that because if you ever choose a bitch over a brother again, I will kill you myself. I warned you, brother. I told you not to play with fire, because that bitch just cost you.”
Morpheus’ voice, a low rumble that vibrated with authority, was like the lash of a whip against my already frayed nerves. His words, “That bitch just cost you,” hung in the air, heavy with accusation and the grim certainty of consequence.
I met his gaze, my own a mirror of his staunch resolve, the image of Kyllian’s defiance, her bleeding lip, her undaunted spirit, a burning brand in my mind. Cerberus’ warning echoed in my ears.“Play with fire, you’re bound to get burned.”I hadn’t just played with fire; I’d become the inferno, and now, the embers of my recklessness were threatening to consume me.
“She didn’t cost me, Morpheus,” I growled defiantly. “She’s nothing more than a loose end. And loose ends get tied up, one way or another.” My gaze shifted to the window, to the stark,unforgiving beauty of the Black Hills stretching out beyond—a landscape as brutal and untamed as the life we led. Kyllian Ward was a fucking problem, a volatile variable in a dangerous equation.
One I hadn’t counted on.
Morpheus turned from the window, his eyes, hard and unyielding, locked onto mine. “You want to tie her up, Firestride; you do it discreetly. No more public displays, no more drawing attention to yourself. You’ve painted a target on her back, and now the brothers know she means something to you. Remember the motto. Bastards by blood, brothers by choice, because right now, she’s just a bitch caught in your orbit, and when she leaves, and she will... you won’t be able to protect her.”
His words hung in the air, a stark pronouncement of my compromised position. Morpheus’ decree was absolute, a death knell to any lingering illusions of control. He saw my concern for Kyllian as a weakness, a liability that jeopardized the Brotherhood’s reputation.
And in this world, reputation was everything.
To my brothers, I was a fool, a man who had allowed a woman, a captive, to infiltrate the walls of my carefully guarded heart. The fact that she was collateral, a means to an end, was a truth I couldn’t afford to forget, and one Morpheus ensured I wouldn’t.
