Page 33 of True Bastard
I watched as Kyllian slowly stood, her voice a mere whisper as she asked, “Who was your father, Firestride?”
“My father was Kalden Baudelaire. President of the Brotherhood.”
She slowly shook her head as my confession hung in the air, a confession that felt like a physical weight, a relic of a life I’d fought so hard to outrun. My gaze flickered to her face, searching for any reaction, any sign that she understood the gravity of what I was trying to say. Her eyes, wide and fixed on mine, held a mixture of shock and something else, something that I couldn’t quite decipher.
It wasn’t disgust, nor outright fear, but a dawning comprehension, a recognition of the abyss I’d just laid bare. I watched her as the tension in the room grew thick enough to choke on, waiting for her to speak, to react, to say anything. The name Joshua felt foreign to my tongue, a ghost from a life I never got to live. It was a name tied to a past filled with pain, with violence, with a legacy I had no desire to resurrect, yet was undeniably bound to. She’d stumbled upon a truth I’d guarded with my life, a secret that was as dangerous as any blade wielded in this brutal world. And now my secret was out, exposed for her to see, and potentially to exploit.
“I was never meant to stay. I wanted nothing to do with the Brotherhood. I hated everything they stood for, so Morpheus gave me an out, and I took it. But then something happened. Something neither of us imagined. Something my mother refused to turn her back on. That’s when I realized I would never be free of the Brotherhood.”
“Anna Joy,” she gasped, and I slowly nodded.
“To protect my mother and sister, I became the very thing I despised. Morpheus vowed to ensure their safety as long as I kept my mouth closed about who I was. My father groomed him to take over the Brotherhood from the time he was ten years old. The Brotherhood belonged to him. Not me. All I cared about was protecting my family, and Morpheus gave me a way to do that. I’m not proud of what I’ve done for the club, not proud of what I’ve become, but I would do it all again to ensure my mother and sister live free of fear. I’ve carved out a place for myself in a world that doesn’t believe in mercy. Every scar you see—and the ones you don’t—are victories against those who dared threaten my mother or who betrayed the Brotherhood.” My hands trembled, betraying the calm I tried so hard to project. “When I joined the club, it was never about joining a brotherhood. It was about protecting my mother and sister, about making sure that no one could ever hurt her, or the people I cared about, ever again.”
“Who is your mother, Firestride?”
“My mother is the bastard daughter of Cordell James, the former president of the Satan’s Angels, and the daughter of Constance Michael, the mother of Skinner, the president of the Death Dogs.”
Kyllian gasped.
Chapter Twenty
Kyllian
This couldn’t be happening.
Not after everything I’d been through.
Everything I’d survived.
Dear God, please tell me I didn’t walk back into the very hell I’ve been running from.
I stared at Firestride, my mind reeling with his revelation. The tangled bloodlines—Satan’s Angels, Death Dogs—were more than old club stories; they were nightmares, pulsing in the person before me. All the years I’d spent running from my past now seemed to close in, bringing old ghosts to life that I thought were dead and buried. Was this fate, or just a cruel twist of coincidence, that our paths had converged here, both of us with secrets that could burn the world down?
“Just to be clear, your mother Helen is Skinner’s sister?”
“Yes.”
“And Skinner is your uncle?” I stated, my words tasting like bile in my mouth. The weight of his confession, the sheer enormity of his lineage, pressed down on me, suffocating me with the ghosts of my own past. My own father, a man who had inflicted so much pain, was a monster, and now, I found myself entangled with a man whose family tree was a twisted tapestry of violence and club affiliations.
It was a nightmarish echo, a dark reflection of my own fractured history.
He nodded, his gaze unwavering, a silent confirmation of the abyss I had just stumbled into. “He’s my uncle,” he confirmed, his voice a low rumble that vibrated with an unreadable emotion. “My mother always said that men like him, men like my father, were the Devil incarnate. They were born to destroy, not to love. She was right, of course. But she could never bring herself to abandon her own flesh and blood.”
The sheer weight of his words settled over me, a suffocating shroud.
I was trapped, not just by his brothers and their unwavering loyalty, but by the history that now bound us together. The secrets he carried, the pain he’d endured, were now intertwined with my own, a toxic cocktail that promised a future far more dangerous than I could have ever imagined. The gilded cage, once a symbol of my captivity, now felt like a fragile sanctuary, the walls of which were rapidly being breached by the ghosts of our shared past.
Shaking my head, I muttered, “I need to leave. I can’t stay here, and don’t you dare mention Jessup, debts, or collateral. I had nothing to do with Jessup or his affiliation with the Death Dogs. As soon as I learned he was a brother, I distanced myself from him. If I had had the money, I would have divorced him right then and there. That son of a bitch has been a thorn in my ass from the moment I met him. I want nothing to do with this shit. I’m done.”
“You think you can just walk away?” His voice was a low growl, laced with a dangerous amusement that sent a shiver down my spine. He stepped closer, his imposing frame filling the room, a dark shadow against the dim light. “After everything that’s happened? After all the secrets you’ve just uncovered?” His eyes, dark and intense, bored into mine, searching for any flicker of doubt, any sign of weakness. “You’re entangled now, Kyllian. Whether you like it or not.”
“I’m not entangled with anyone,” I spat back, my voice trembling despite my efforts to keep it steady. “Jessup is your problem, not mine. I want nothing to do with the Death Dogs, or the Satan’s Angels, or whatever twisted mess your family tree represents. I just want to be free.” I hugged myself, the phantom ache in my ribs a dull throb, a constant reminder of the violence that had brought me here. I met his gaze, a flicker of defiance hardening my own. “You came looking for Jessup. Then go find him and forget you ever saw me.”
He laughed, a harsh, guttural sound that reverberated through the room.
“Forget you? You think I can just forget the woman who knows my real name? The woman who’s now tied to a legacy that could burn this whole damn club down?” He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming, the faint scent of leather and something more primal clinging to him. “You’re not collateral anymore, Kyllian. You’re mine, and I don’t let anything that belongs to me walk away.”
“I don’t belong to anyone. Not you. Not Jessup. No one.”
