Chapter Fourteen
Kyllian
A week.
Seven long, agonizing days since Firestride had stormed out, leaving me locked away like some prized possession in his gilded cage.
Each sunrise had brought forth a fresh wave of despair, each sunset a bitter confirmation of my continued captivity.
My defiance, once a roaring inferno, had dwindled to a fragile ember, threatening to be extinguished by the relentless monotony of my confinement.
The plush furnishings, the scent of sandalwood and mint—it all mocked me, a constant reminder of the freedom I’d lost and the control I’d been stripped of.
The thought of Jessup, of the debt he owed, gnawed at me, a constant undercurrent of dread.
Was Firestride hunting him? Was this entire ordeal merely a means to an end, a brutal negotiation I was caught in the middle of?
Or was I simply a pawn in a much larger, more dangerous game, destined to be played with until I was no longer useful?
The uncertainty was a torment worse than any physical pain, chipping away at my resolve, leaving me hollowed out and weary.
I’d tried to find a way out, searching every nook and cranny of the room for any weakness, any escape route.
But the walls were too thick, the doors too secure, and the knowledge that he, the Devil in leather, held the keys to my freedom was a constant, crushing weight.
A soft knock at the door preceded a click before the door slowly opened, and a young teen with sandy blonde hair stuck her head inside. “You awake?”
“Yes,” I muttered cautiously, wondering what fresh hell was about to befall me.
The young girl, or should I say preteen, pushed open the door and walked in. “Hi. My name is Anna Joy. Morpheus said I should come here and introduce myself. He said I could ask if you wanted to go to lunch with me and Momma.”
Blinking, I looked at the young girl. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“Oh, that lying bastard,” the young girl groaned, rolling her eyes. “He said he’d told you.”
Curious, I sat up. “Who told me what?”
“Morpheus, duh!” The young girl sighed dramatically. “I should have known he didn’t. It doesn’t matter. Anyway, since my brother isn’t back yet, would you like to get out of here and go to lunch?”
“I’m sorry. I’m confused. Who is your brother?”
Groaning, the young girl rolled her eyes in the dramatic fashion of a seasoned teen. “Firestride is my brother. Mom says he’s a pain in the ass, but that’s because... well, you know.”
I smirked. “Yeah. I know.”
“So, what do you say? Wanna get out of here and go to lunch?”
A flicker of surprise, quickly masked by practiced indifference, washed over me.
Firestride. The man who held my life captive, the man whose touch still sent a shiver of fear and something else entirely down my spine, had a sister.
And a mother, apparently.
Lunch? A chance to get out of this opulent prison, even for a few hours. It was a sliver of hope, a crack in the otherwise impenetrable wall of my confinement. But then the other shoe dropped.
Morpheus, the puppet master himself, had sent this girl. What was his game now? Was this some twisted test? A way to further break me, to show me the extent of my powerlessness?
“Morpheus sent you,” I stated, my voice flat, devoid of the hope that had briefly flickered.
My eyes, I knew, betrayed the raw fear that still simmered beneath the surface—a fear I desperately tried to keep hidden.
I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me completely broken.
Not yet. “And Firestride... where is he?”
Anna Joy’s innocent gaze met mine, and for a fleeting moment, I saw not a pawn in their brutal game, but a girl, caught in the same web, albeit on a different thread.
“Out on club business,” she said, her voice softer now, a hint of apprehension creeping in. “Morpheus said to tell you that if you behave, and if you don’t cause trouble, he’ll allow you downstairs so you won’t be cooped up in here all the time.”
Her words were a double-edged sword, a conditional reprieve that offered a sliver of freedom, but at the cost of my own dwindling defiance. The choice, it seemed, was mine to make. And in this gilded cage, every choice felt like a surrender.
Fuck it.
I wanted to get out of this place.
“Fine,” I relented, my voice a rough rasp against the suffocating silence. “I’ll go to lunch.”
It was a surrender, a concession to the inevitable.
The offer of a few hours outside these gilded walls, even under their watchful eyes, was a temptation I couldn’t resist. The thought of seeing the outside world, of breathing air that wasn’t laced with sandalwood and mint, was a lifeline I desperately needed to grasp.
Anna Joy’s innocent eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise in their depths, and I knew, yet again, that I’d just made another choice that would further bind me to this dangerous world.
As we walked out, the hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, each step a testament to my continued captivity.
The common room was a hive of activity. Club brothers—as Firestride so jarringly called them—a motley crew of hardened men—gave me more than a passing glance.
Their leers were palpable, their curiosity a tangible force that pressed in on me, making my skin crawl.
I kept my gaze fixed on Anna Joy, her small hand a surprisingly steady anchor in the storm of my fear.
She was a child, oblivious to the darkness that swirled around her, a stark contrast to the predatory energy that emanated from the men of the Brotherhood.
The thought of her innocence, of her being caught in this web, gnawed at me.
Standing by the door was Morpheus, arms crossed over his massive chest as he glared directly at me, unmoving. “Anna Joy, your mother is waiting in the car. Kyllian will be out in a minute after we have a brief talk.”
The young girl released my hand and quietly left.
“Here are the fucking rules,” Morpheus began as he leered at me.
“You will not upset Helen or Anna Joy. They want to get to know you, and you will answer every fucking question they ask. You will not discuss why you are here or your debt to this club. Two brothers will watch you, with orders to shoot you on sight if you even think about running. For all intents and purposes, this is just a normal lunch date to gossip and gab. Am I understood?”
“Understood,” I managed, the word a dry rasp against my parched throat.
The rules, laid out with such blunt finality, felt less like guidelines and more like the iron bars of my gilded cage being reinforced.
Morpheus’ gaze, hard and unyielding, was a physical weight, pinning me in place.
He saw my fear, my helplessness, and I knew, with a sickening certainty, that he reveled in it.
The thought of Anna Joy and her mother, innocents, only intensified the knot of dread in my stomach.
I was already a pawn, and now, I was expected to play the part of a willing participant in whatever twisted charade this was.
Stepping out into the pale South Dakota sun was a dizzying, disorienting experience.
The air, clean and crisp, felt alien after days confined to the cloying scents of Firestride’s room.
Two hulking men, their faces impassive masks of brute force, flanked me as I walked towards the waiting car.
Their presence was a constant, unnerving reminder of my status—prisoner, collateral, a thing to be guarded.
The thought of Firestride, of his chilling possessiveness and the unspoken threat that hung over me, was an ache that resonated through my very bones.
Yet, a flicker of defiance, stubbornly refusing to be extinguished, sparked within me.
If I was going to endure this, if I was going to survive, I would do it on my own terms, even if those terms were dictated by a stolen lunch.
As Morpheus slammed the car door shut, the sound echoing the finality of my situation, my eyes met those of the two guards.
They were impassive, their gazes fixed straight ahead, like sentinels guarding a treasure they neither understood nor cared about.
And in that moment, a terrifying realization dawned: I was already a part of their world, an unwanted fixture in the Brotherhood of Bastards.
The only question that remained was how long I would survive.
Walking into the small cafe, I followed Helen and Anna Joy as they quickly found a booth. Taking a seat across from them, I sat nervously, watching the two Bastards take a seat at the table next to us.
Neither looked happy to be here.
“Ignore them.” Anna Joy smiled. “They won’t pay any attention to us.”
I wasn’t so sure about that when I saw one of the bastards smirk.
“Good afternoon, Helen and Anna Joy,” a pretty woman greeted as she walked over to our table, placing menus before us, and then her eyes landed on me. “Oh! And who is this?”
“Alice, I’d like you to meet Kyllian Ward, my son’s...”
“Friend,” I quickly offered, smiling up at the woman as Anna Joy coughed into her hand, her mother lightly elbowing her to be quiet. “I’m in town visiting for a few days.”
“Oh, how wonderful,” Alice preened. “Well, welcome to Deadwood. Our little town has a rich history. There is definitely plenty to do here.”
“Deadwood?” I asked, my eyes widening. “Do you know a Karen O’Callaghan?”
Alice smiled. “Sure do. Karen owned the beauty salon in town a few years ago but moved to Rapid City to be closer to her granddaughter. How do you know her?”
When I saw both Bastards watching me, their eyes hard and calculating, I gulped, then lowered my head, silently cursing myself for not watching my words. “She’s nobody. Just a family friend. Thought I’d stop by and say hi while I was in town.”
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I’ve got her new address. I can give it to you if you’d like. I’m sure Karen would love to see you.”
I nodded. “Thank you. I’d like that very much.”
Alice smiled. “Now, what can I get you, ladies? I can’t stand around and gab all day long. Well, I could, but then this place would go belly up.”
A Bastard sitting at the table grunted. “Like he would ever let that happen.”
After placing our order, I quietly studied Helen Michael, Firestride’s mother. She was a stunning woman, and I immediately saw where Anna Joy got her looks from. Anna Joy was the spitting image of her mother. And while Anna Joy was talkative, the young girl had nothing on her mother.
“Oh, I’m so thrilled you agreed to have lunch with us, Kyllian.
When Firestride told me about you, I wanted to meet you right away, but he wouldn’t allow it.
Something about you needing time to acclimate to club life.
I told him that no self-respecting woman would want to live in that pigsty.
But he won’t listen to me. He’s so much like his father in that regard. ”
“Pigsty?” I echoed, a small, involuntary smile touching my lips. It was a ridiculous notion, a club being called a pigsty, especially by a mother. But there was a warmth in Helen’s voice, an unexpected kindness, that cut through the thick layer of dread I’d been carrying.
“But he lives in a clubhouse, doesn’t he?”
Helen waved a dismissive hand, her perfectly manicured nails catching the sunlight.
“Oh, that place is just a den of iniquity. Firestride, bless his heart, needs to learn to separate his work from his personal life. It’s a habit he got from his father.
But he is a good man, Kyllian. He is a strong man, and he will protect you. He knows how to handle women like you.”
Her words, meant as comfort, landed like a blow.
“Handle women like me?” I repeated, my voice laced with a familiar bitterness. “What exactly do you mean by that?”
The casual way she’d spoken of his protectiveness, the underlying assumption of control, sent a fresh wave of unease through me. It was the same narrative I’d heard before, the same condescending tone that implied my own agency was secondary, my own desires irrelevant.
Helen’s gaze softened, a flicker of understanding in her eyes as she reached across the table, her hand covering mine. The warmth of her touch was a stark contrast to the cold reality of my situation, but it did little to soothe the gnawing fear in my gut.
“It means that my son is a man who knows what he wants, Kyllian. And when he wants something, he gets it. He’s been through a lot, and he’s learned to cherish what’s his. And right now, my son believes you belong to him.”
There was that word again... cherish.