Chapter Thirty-Seven
Alex
The wall was white.
Not clean white. Not fresh white. The kind of white that had yellowed at the edges where the paint met the ceiling.
There was a crack running from the corner down toward the window, thin, barely visible, but I’d traced it with my eyes so many times in the last two days that I could draw it from memory.
The light came through the window in a slant.
Afternoon, probably. Maybe morning. I didn’t know anymore.
Time had stopped meaning anything. The sheets were black.
Soft. Egyptian cotton, maybe. I didn’t care.
They smelled like him, like leather and smoke and something darker I couldn’t name.
I lay on top of them, not under them, wearing one of his T-shirts and nothing else.
I hadn’t moved in hours. Maybe longer. I breathed. In. Out. In. Out. That was all. No thoughts. No feelings. Just the mechanical function of lungs expanding and contracting, keeping a body alive that didn’t particularly want to be.
The door opened.
I heard it. The soft click of the latch, the creak of hinges that needed oil. Footsteps crossed the room. Lighter than Nano’s, softer than any of the brothers’. I didn’t turn my head. Didn’t blink. I just kept staring at that crack in the wall, tracing its path with eyes that felt dry and gritty.
“Jesus,” a woman’s voice hissed.
Not shocked. Not horrified. Just... resigned. Like she expected exactly this.
The bed dipped as she sat on the edge, and I felt the mattress shift beneath me. Something was placed on the nightstand, glass against wood, with a soft clink.
“Alex.”
Kyllian Ward.
I knew her voice. The first old lady of the Brotherhood. Firestride’s woman. The one Morpheus respected.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My throat felt like it had been filled with concrete.
“I brought you water,” she said. “And some crackers. I know you probably don’t want them, but they’re here if you change your mind.”
Silence.
She didn’t seem bothered by it.
“Morpheus asked me to check on you,” she continued, her tone conversational. Like we were having coffee instead of sitting in the wreckage of my life. “He’s worried. Not that he would ever admit it, but I could tell.”
I blinked. Once. Slowly.
The crack in the wall blurred, then sharpened again.
“Nano’s worried too,” Kyllian said. “Though I’m guessing you don’t want to hear that right now.”
She was right.
I didn’t.
“I’m not here to tell you everything’s going to be okay,” she said after a moment. “Because that would be bullshit, and you’re too smart to believe it anyway.”
Her hand rested on the bed beside me. Not touching, just there. Present.
“I’m here because I’ve been where you are,” she said quietly. “Not exactly, but close enough. And I know what it feels like to think you’ve been broken so completely that there’s nothing left to put back together.”
I closed my eyes. Go away.
“When I chose Firestride,” Kyllian continued, “I knew what I was choosing. I knew what the Brotherhood was. What these men are. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. That it would demand everything from me. My independence, my safety, my sense of control.”
Her voice was steady. Calm. Like she was telling me a story she’d told a hundred times before.
“And I chose it anyway,” she said. “Because the alternative, a life without him, felt worse than anything the Brotherhood could throw at me.”
I opened my eyes again, staring at that crack.
“But here’s the thing, Alex,” Kyllian said, and her tone shifted. Harder now. More direct. “Choosing this life doesn’t mean you stop being yourself. It doesn’t mean you become some hollow shell that just exists to serve a man.”
I felt something flicker in my chest. Small. Barely there.
“You’re broken right now,” Kyllian said bluntly. “I’m not going to lie to you about that. Morpheus told me what happened in that basement, what Nano did, and what Morpheus orchestrated. It broke you. Completely.”
The flicker died.
“But broken doesn’t mean destroyed,” she continued. “It means you’re in pieces. And pieces can be put back together. Not the same way. Never the same way. But that doesn’t mean they can’t be whole again.”
I swallowed. My throat ached.
“I’m not whole,” I whispered.
The first words I’d spoken in two days.
They came out hoarse. Cracked. Like my voice had forgotten how to work.
“No,” Kyllian agreed. “You’re not. Not right now. But you will be.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re still breathing,” she said simply. “Because you’re still here. Because even though you feel like there’s nothing left inside you, you haven’t given up yet.”
I turned my head slightly, just enough to see her out of the corner of my eye.
She was beautiful. Blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, green eyes sharp and assessing. She wore jeans and a leather jacket, and there was a confidence in the way she sat. Like she belonged here, like she had earned her place.
“I don’t know how to survive this,” I said quietly.
“Yes, you do,” Kyllian said. “You just don’t want to admit it yet.”
I looked back at the wall.
“Surviving this life isn’t about fighting back,” she continued.
“It’s not about defiance or rebellion or proving you’re strong enough to take whatever they throw at you.
It’s about surviving the aftermath. It’s about waking up the next day and the day after that and choosing to keep going even when every part of you wants to quit. ”
“Why?” The word came out flat. Empty.
“Because the reward is worth it,” Kyllian said. “Because loving a man like Nano, loving a Bastard, is brutal and terrifying and it will break you over and over again. But it’s also the most real thing you’ll ever experience. It’s raw and honest, and it doesn’t lie to you about what it is.”
She paused, and I heard her shift on the bed.
“These men,” she said quietly, “they’re not good men.
They’re not heroes. They’re violent and possessive, and they’ll hurt you in ways you didn’t know were possible.
But they’re also loyal. Fiercely, brutally loyal.
And when they love you. When they truly love you, they’ll burn the world down to keep you safe. ”
“Nano doesn’t love me,” I said.
“Bullshit.”
The word was sharp. Cutting.
I blinked.
“Nano is suffering just as much as you are right now,” Kyllian said. “Maybe more. Because he knows what he did to you. He knows he broke you. And he’s terrified that he’s lost you forever.”
“Good.” The word came out before I could stop it. Bitter. Angry.
Kyllian didn’t flinch.
“You have every right to be angry,” she said. “What he did was brutal. What Morpheus orchestrated was cruel. And you didn’t deserve it.”
I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes.
“But here’s the thing, Alex,” Kyllian continued. “You can be angry. You can hate him. You can hate all of them. But you still have to choose whether you’re going to survive this or let it destroy you.”
“I don’t know how to choose that,” I whispered.
“Yes, you do,” Kyllian said again. “You’ve been choosing it every day since you walked into this clubhouse.
You chose it when you stole that money. You chose it when you came back to Athens.
You chose it when you sent that email to your brother.
You chose it when you kneeled in that basement and told Morpheus everything. ”
“I didn’t choose to be broken.”
“No,” Kyllian agreed. “You didn’t. But you can choose what happens next.”
I closed my eyes again, feeling the tears slip down my cheeks and soak into the pillow.
“I don’t know what happens next,” I said.
“Neither did I,” Kyllian said quietly. “When I chose Firestride, I had no idea what I was getting into. I didn’t know about the violence, or the danger, or the nights I would spend wondering if he was going to come home alive.
I didn’t know about the fear or the jealousy or the moments when I’d hate him so much I couldn’t breathe. ”
She paused.
“But I also didn’t know about the moments when he’d hold me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered,” she continued.
“I didn’t know about the way he’d look at me like I was his entire reason for existing.
I didn’t know about the safety I’d feel when he wrapped his arms around me and told me nothing would ever hurt me again. ”
Her voice softened.
“Loving a Bastard is the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” she admitted. “But it’s also the best thing. Because it’s real. It’s honest. And it doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what it is.”
I opened my eyes, staring at that crack again.
“What if I can’t do it?” I whispered.
“Then you leave,” Kyllian said simply. “You walk out that door and you don’t look back. And no one will stop you.”
I turned my head to look at her fully now.
She met my gaze, her green eyes steady.
“But if you stay,” she said quietly, “you have to own it. You have to stop fighting yourself. You have to accept that this is what you chose. Not because you’re weak, not because you’re broken, but because this is where you belong.”
“I don’t know if I belong here,” I murmured.
“Then figure it out,” Kyllian said. “But don’t do it for Nano. Don’t do it for the Brotherhood. Do it for yourself. Because you deserve to know who you are and what you want.”
She stood, smoothing her hands over her jeans.
“The water’s on the nightstand,” she said. “So are the crackers. Eat something. Drink something. Take a shower. And then decide what you’re going to do next.”
She walked toward the door, her footsteps soft against the floor.
“Kyllian.”
She stopped, turning back to look at me.
“How did you know?” I asked quietly. “How did you know Firestride was worth it?”
She smiled. A small, sad, but genuine.
“Because even on the worst days,” she said, “I’d rather be broken with him than whole without him.” And then she was gone. The door clicked shut behind her, and I was alone again.
I stared at the ceiling now, instead of the wall. The light had shifted. The slant was different. Time was still moving, even if I wasn’t.
Even on the worst days, I’d rather be broken with him than whole without him.
I didn’t know if I believed that. Didn’t know if I could. But for the first time in two days, I felt something other than emptiness.