Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alex
I was still lying in Nano’s bed when I heard it.
The commotion downstairs was muffled at first, just the rumble of raised voices filtering up through the floorboards. But then one voice cut through the rest, sharp and commanding, and even though I couldn’t make out the words, I could hear the authority in it.
Morpheus.
My entire body went rigid.
Oh God. Oh fuck.
The panic hit me like a freight train, sudden and overwhelming. My heart started hammering against my ribs, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps that didn’t seem to bring enough air. I sat up too fast, the room spinning slightly, and grabbed for the sheet to cover myself.
He knows. He knows about the email. He’s coming to kill me.
The thought was irrational. I’d deleted the email, covered my tracks, but rationality had no place in the terror flooding my system.
All I could think about was Morpheus’ cold eyes, the way he’d pressed that gun to my temple in the basement, the absolute certainty in his voice when he’d told me I had seventy-two hours.
How long has it been? Have I run out of time?
I couldn’t remember. The last three days had blurred together into a haze of sensation and submission, of Nano’s hands and mouth and cock, of orgasms that had torn me apart and put me back together wrong. Time had stopped meaning anything.
But it meant something to Morpheus.
The voices downstairs grew louder. I heard boots on the stairs, heavy and purposeful, and my panic ratcheted up another notch. My hands were shaking as I clutched the sheet tighter, pulling it up to my chin like it could somehow protect me from what was coming.
Run. You need to run.
But there was nowhere to go. The door was the only exit, and whoever was coming up those stairs was between me and freedom. The window? Three stories up, and even if I survived the fall, I was naked and exhausted, and there were brothers everywhere.
I was trapped.
Just like I’d been trapped since the moment Nano dragged me into that van.
The footsteps were in the hallway now. Getting closer. I could hear them clearly. The steady, measured pace of someone who knew exactly where they were going and wasn’t in any hurry to get there.
Please. Please, not like this.
The door opened.
And it wasn’t Morpheus.
It was a woman.
I stared at her, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing.
She was stunning. There was no other word for it.
Blonde hair that fell in soft waves past her shoulders, catching the light from the hallway.
Green eyes that were sharp and intelligent, taking in the room with a single sweeping glance.
She was probably in her late twenties or early thirties, dressed in jeans and a fitted leather jacket that looked expensive.
And she was looking directly at me.
Oh fuck.
The shame hit me like a physical blow.
It was one thing to be naked and marked and thoroughly fucked in front of Nano. He’d done this to me. He’d earned the right to see me like this, broken and submissive and his.
But this woman... this woman was a stranger.
And she saw everything.
The bruises on my thighs. The bite marks on my breasts. The rope burns on my wrists. The way my hair was tangled and wild, the way my lips were swollen, the way I clutched the sheet like it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
She could see it all. Could see exactly what had been done to me. What I’d let be done to me.
What I’d begged for.
“Hi,” she said, and her voice was calm. Matter-of-fact. Like walking into a room and finding a naked, traumatized woman was just another Tuesday. “I’m Kyllian.”
I couldn’t speak. My throat had closed up, my tongue thick and useless in my mouth. All I could do was stare at her, my heart still racing, my hands still shaking.
She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her with a soft click.
No. No, don’t close the door. Don’t trap me in here.
But she wasn’t threatening. Wasn’t advancing on me like the brothers did, all predatory intent and barely restrained violence. She just stood there, her back against the door, her hands in her jacket pockets, watching me with those intelligent green eyes.
“You’re Alex,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
I managed a nod. Barely.
“I’m Firestride’s old lady,” she continued, and something in her tone suggested I should know what that meant. Should understand the significance of it.
I didn’t. Not really. I knew what an old lady was in theory.
The committed partner of a club member, someone who wore their man’s property patch and was supposed to be off-limits to everyone else.
But I didn’t know what it meant here, in the Brotherhood, where the rules seemed to be written in blood and broken just as easily.
“I heard there was a situation,” Kyllian said, her eyes never leaving my face. “Morpheus called me. Said I should come check on you.”
Check on me?
The words didn’t make sense. Why would Morpheus want someone to check on me? Why would he care?
Unless he’s decided I’m more trouble than I’m worth. Unless he’s sent her to evaluate whether I should live or die.
The panic surged again, and I must have made some sound, a whimper, maybe, or a gasp, because Kyllian’s expression softened slightly.
“Hey,” she said, her voice gentler now. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m just here to talk.”
“Talk,” I repeated, and my voice came out hoarse and broken. “About what?”
“About you,” she said simply. “About what’s been happening. About whether you’re okay.”
Am I okay?
The question was so absurd I almost laughed. Almost. But the sound that came out was closer to a sob, and I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep it from turning into something worse.
“I’m fine,” I said, and even I didn’t believe it.
Kyllian raised an eyebrow. “You’re fine,” she repeated, her tone making it clear she thought that was bullshit. “You’re sitting in Nano’s bed, covered in bruises and bite marks, looking like you’re about to have a panic attack, and you’re fine.”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because she was right, and we both knew it.
She moved then, crossing the room with an easy confidence that made me shrink back against the headboard.
But she didn’t come to the bed. Instead, she pulled out Nano’s desk chair and sat down, crossing her legs and leaning back like she had all the time in the world.
“Let me tell you something about the Brotherhood,” she said, her voice still calm but with an edge of steel underneath. “This club doesn’t do old ladies. Not traditionally. The brothers fuck whoever they want, whenever they want, and they don’t commit. They don’t claim. They don’t keep.”
I stared at her, not understanding where she was going with this.
“But Firestride claimed me,” she continued. “Made me his old lady. Put his patch on my back and told every brother in this club that I was off-limits. And you know what? Morpheus respected it. They all did. Because Firestride made it clear that I wasn’t just some club whore. I was his.”
The word hit me like a slap.
His.
Just like I’d told Nano I was his.
“So when Morpheus called me,” Kyllian said, leaning forward slightly, “and told me there was a girl upstairs who might need someone to talk to, I came. Because I know what it’s like to be in this world. To be with these men. And I know how easy it is to lose yourself.”
“I haven’t lost myself,” I denied, but the words sounded hollow even to my own ears.
Kyllian’s eyes narrowed. “Haven’t you?”
The question hung in the air between us, heavy and accusatory. And I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her she was wrong, that I knew exactly who I was and what I was doing.
But I couldn’t.
Because the truth was, I didn’t know anymore.
Three days ago, I’d been Alexandra Jones. Thief. Survivor. Someone who took what she wanted and didn’t apologize for it.
Now I was what? Nano’s? His possession? His toy?
His.
“I see it,” Kyllian said quietly, and there was something almost sad in her voice. “I see it in your eyes. The confusion. The shame. The part of you that’s screaming that this is wrong, that you should fight, that you should run.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight.
“But there’s another part,” she continued, and her gaze was piercing now, seeing straight through me. “The part that doesn’t want to run. The part that wants to stay. That wants him.”
No.
But the denial died before it reached my lips, because she was right. God help me, she was right.
“I’m not judging you,” Kyllian said, and she sounded like she meant it. “I can’t. I chose this life. I chose Firestride, knowing exactly what the Brotherhood was, what he was. And I don’t regret it.”
“Why?” The word came out before I could stop it. “Why would you choose this?”
She smiled, but it was a sad, knowing smile. “Because sometimes the darkness is the only place that feels like home.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, because I understood them. Understood them in a way that made my chest ache and my eyes burn.
“But here’s the thing,” Kyllian said, her voice hardening again. “Choosing this life means understanding what you’re getting into. It means knowing the risks. The violence. The control. The way these men will take everything from you if you let them.”
“I know,” I whispered.
“Do you?” She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, her eyes locked on mine. “Do you know what Nano is? What he’s capable of?”
I thought about the way he’d choked me. The way he’d edged me for hours. The way he’d fucked me until I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but scream his name and beg for more.
“Yes,” I said, and my voice was steadier now. “I know.”
“And you still want to stay?”
The question should have been easy to answer. Should have been a simple no, a desperate plea for help, for escape, for someone to save me from this nightmare.
But it wasn’t.
Because the truth was more complicated than that. More twisted.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, and the honesty of it felt like ripping open a wound. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”
Kyllian studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she stood up, smoothing down her jeans with a casual grace that made me feel even more exposed and vulnerable.
“Okay,” she said simply.
“Okay?” I repeated, confused.
“Okay,” she said again. “You don’t have to know right now. You don’t have to have all the answers. But you do need to understand something.”
She moved closer to the bed, and I tensed, but she didn’t touch me. Just stood there, looking down at me with those sharp green eyes.
“If you stay,” she said, her voice low and serious, “if you choose this, choose him, then you need to own it. You need to stop fighting yourself. Stop hating yourself for wanting what you want. Because that shame you feel? That self-loathing? It will destroy you faster than anything Nano could ever do.”
I stared at her, my mind reeling.
“But if you want out,” she continued, “if you want to leave, to go back to your brother and your club and your old life, then you need to say so. Now. Before this goes any further. Before you’re in so deep you can’t find your way back.”
“And if I say I want out?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. “Will they let me go?”
Kyllian’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “That’s between you and Morpheus. Between you and Nano. But I’ll advocate for you. I’ll tell Morpheus what I saw here, and I’ll tell him what I think.”
“What do you think?” I asked, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.
She tilted her head, considering me. “I think you’re more broken than you realize,” she said finally.
“I think Nano saw that brokenness and decided to make it his. And I think you let him because some part of you wanted to be claimed. Wanted to belong to someone, even if that someone is a sadistic bastard who gets off on your pain.”
The words should have hurt. Should have made me angry.
But they didn’t.
Because they were true.
“I also think,” Kyllian continued, “that you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Strong enough to survive this. Strong enough to make a choice and live with it, whatever that choice is.”
She turned toward the door, and panic flared in my chest.
“Wait,” I said, and she paused, looking back at me. “What happens now?”
“Now?” She smiled, and it was almost kind. “Now you figure out what you want. And then you tell Nano. Tell Morpheus. Tell whoever needs to hear it. But you be honest. With them, and with yourself.”
“And if I don’t know what I want?”
“Then you keep breathing,” she said simply. “You keep surviving. And eventually, you’ll figure it out.”
She opened the door, and I heard the sounds of the clubhouse filtering in. Voices, music, the clinking of bottles. Normal sounds. Sounds that didn’t belong in this room, in this moment, in this twisted reality I had found myself in.
“Kyllian,” I said, and she paused again, her hand on the doorframe.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you,” I said, and I meant it. Even though I didn’t fully understand why she had come, why she talked to me, why she bothered.
She nodded once. “Take care of yourself, Alex. Because no one else is going to do it for you.”
And then she was gone, the door closing behind her with a soft click that felt far too final.
I sat there in the silence, the sheet still clutched to my chest, my mind spinning with everything she’d said.
You need to own it. You need to stop fighting yourself.
Could I do that? Could I accept what I’d become? What I wanted?
I looked down at my body, at the marks Nano had left, the evidence of his claim written across my skin in bruises and bites and rope burns. And I felt something shift inside me. Something that had been fighting and screaming and resisting finally went quiet.
I’m his.
I’d said the words. Screamed them, actually, while he fucked me into oblivion. And I’d meant them.
But did I still mean them now? Now that the haze of sex and submission had cleared? Now that I’d been confronted by a woman who’d made the same choice and somehow survived it?
I didn’t know.
But Kyllian was right about one thing.
I needed to figure it out.
Because whatever happened next, whether Morpheus decided to let me live, whether my brother came looking for me, whether Nano kept me or threw me away, I needed to know what I wanted.
I needed to know who I was.
And right now, lying in this bed, covered in the evidence of my complete surrender, I had no fucking idea.
But I was going to find out.
Even if it killed me.