Chapter Seventeen
Firestride
The clubhouse was a thunderous inferno of sound as Cerberus and I dragged Jessup into the Brotherhood of Bastards.
The moment the heavy steel door slammed shut behind us, Cerberus whistled, a piercing shriek that cut through the cacophony, silencing the raucous revelry.
Every head snapped toward us, a sea of expectant, hardened faces.
With a raised hand, and a triumphant grin splitting his face, he bellowed, “BASTARDS BY BLOOD!”
“brOTHERS BY CHOICE!” the room roared back, a visceral wave of loyalty that vibrated through the very floorboards.
Morpheus, perched on a raised platform, his eyes like chips of obsidian, narrowed his gaze.
A satisfied gleam sparked within them as he surveyed the scene, a subtle tightening around his mouth.
He clearly approved.
“Good work, brothers,” Morpheus’ voice, a gravelly rumble, boomed across the stunned silence.
“You know the drill. Get him downstairs. I have several questions for this motherfucker.” He then turned his piercing gaze to me, and my gut twisted.
His gaze lingered, heavy and possessive, a familiar, unwelcome weight.
“The debt is still outstanding. Until we collect, she’s still collateral. ”
His words landed like a physical blow. A knot of dread tightened in my chest, a cold counterpoint to the boisterous energy of the Brotherhood, but I nodded and said nothing as a few brothers walked over and dragged Jessup away, his muffled curses echoing behind him.
As I watched them go, the familiar rhythm of the clubhouse once again filled the air.
But tonight, something felt different. The usual camaraderie, the riotous energy of the Brotherhood, had shifted in some way.
The booze, fights, girls, fucking—none of it called to me.
A mere week ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice before joining in with my brothers to celebrate a victory, yet all I wanted was to head upstairs to see Kyllian.
Just thinking about her in my bed got my dick painfully hard.
This was the life I’d signed up for, fought for, the one I’d bled for, the only thing I’d ever known.
Yet, here I was, a traitor to my own ingrained instincts, a deserter of the very celebration that had always defined me.
My brothers’ laughter, raucous and unthinking, grated on me.
They expected me to be there, to be one of them, to drown out this growing disquiet with the familiar beckoning of oblivion.
But my body, my blood, screamed for a different kind of oblivion.
Kyllian.
Her name was a whisper against the roaring of my mind, a forbidden balm to a wound I didn’t know I had.
This desire was a weakness, a betrayal of the hard-won strength that had carved out my place in this world.
To turn away from my brothers, from this ingrained loyalty, felt like a self-inflicted wound, a deliberate act of sabotage.
Yet, the thought of her, the imagined warmth of her skin, the surrender in her eyes, was a siren song I couldn’t resist.
I was torn between the man I was supposed to be and the man I was becoming, and the choice felt like a gamble with my very soul.
If I went to her, would I ever truly be one of them again?
Could I live with the knowledge that I’d abandoned my brothers, even just for a night, for a whim?
The shame of it burned, but the pull of Kyllian was a fire I was already walking into, a choice I was already regretting before I’d even made it.
Walking over to the bar, Xzibit slid a cold beer toward me. “Congrats, brother. You found the fucker.”
I took a large gulp from the bottle and looked around the room, sighing.
“Why the long face? You collected the debt, you have a smoking hot bitch upstairs, and Morpheus is happy. What’s the problem?”
“Everything,” I muttered, taking another pull of my beer as Morpheus slid onto the stool next to me while Xzibit vanished.
“Change your mind already?” Morpheus chuckled.
“Maybe,” I groaned. “I don’t know.”
“You know she won’t stay, brother. Save yourself the pain. Go fuck the bitch. Get her out of your system and then walk away. It’s the Bastard way.”
“What if I want more?”
“If you wanted more, you’d already be balls deep in her snatch.
Instead, you are sitting here sulking like a little bitch.
” Morpheus sighed, reaching across the bar for a bottle of whiskey.
Removing the cap, he chugged a large swallow before slamming the bottle down onto the bar and growling, “It’s always the golden pussy. ”
“Excuse me?”
Shaking his head, Morpheus turned in his seat and waved his arm toward the brothers.
“Look at them, Firestride. Our brothers are happy tonight. They have everything they want. Every brother here has pussy at their disposal. They can fuck any cunt until their dick falls off, but throw in a golden pussy and, well, it’s game over.
I’ve seen it happen. Time and time again.
A brother who has everything will turn his back on his family for a chance to sink his dick into that golden pussy. ”
I smirked. “And you know this experience, how?”
“I had a golden pussy once.” Morpheus sighed. “I walked—no, I ran away from everything for her, and for a short few months, I was happy. Truly happy. But it didn’t last. Nothing good ever lasts in this life, brother. Remember that.”
“What was her name?”
“It doesn’t matter. She’s dead now,” Morpheus whispered, then added, “What I’m trying to say is, it doesn’t matter what you want, or what you think you can have. In the end, you will be right back here with us. A Bastard to the core, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”
He grabbed his whiskey bottle and stood, the amber liquid a swirling, mocking invitation.
“Just remember,” he continued, his voice dropping to a low, almost conspiratorial murmur.
“The Brotherhood is your family. The only family that will ever matter. Don’t trade that for a fleeting moment of happiness, Firestride.
I’ve seen it happen. It always ends in disaster. ”
I met his gaze as a familiar weariness settled over me.
He was right, of course.
This was the life I’d chosen, the path I walked.
Kyllian was a complication, a dangerous detour, a flame that threatened to consume the carefully constructed walls around my heart.
But as I stared at my half-empty bottle, at the reflection of my own grim determination in the polished wood of the bar, a cold, hard truth settled in.
.. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be saved from the fire anymore.
“I need to see for myself, Morpheus,” I said, my words coming out rougher than I intended. “I need to know for sure.”
My admission was a confession, a surrender to the inevitable.
Morpheus studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before finally nodding. “Go ahead then. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Once you’ve stepped over that line, there’s no coming back.”
I stood, feeling the weight of Morpheus’ words settle like iron around my ribcage.
The bar felt colder now, the laughter in the dim corners distant and hollow.
Fear flickered in my chest, but beneath it pulsed a reckless anticipation—a longing to touch the danger, to see if the fire could forge me into something stronger or burn me to ash entirely.
With each step toward my door, I left behind certainty and the Brotherhood for the promise of something wild, something that might not be worth the cost. My hand hesitated on the handle.
A thousand warnings echoed in my mind, but still, I pushed forward, chasing the truth, even if it meant setting my entire world ablaze.
“You lying bastard!” Kyllian shouted as she hurled a book at my head. “You are a sleazy, vile, rotten lying son of a bitch! You were never going to let me go, were you?”
Ducking fast, I slammed my door shut. Leaning against it, I felt the door tremble as another book hit it while she continued to spew her vitriol loudly. Laughter to my left had me slowly turning my head to see Morpheus, Cerberus, and most of the club’s officers either grinning or laughing outright.
Fucking bastards.
She continued to rage, a torrent of curses and accusations that battered against the thick oak door.
Each thud of a book, each guttural shriek, was a testament to her unbroken spirit—a fire that, despite Morpheus’ warnings, I found myself increasingly drawn to.
Around me, the laughter of my brothers was a brutal counterpoint, a soundtrack to their amusement at my predicament.
They saw it as a game, a conquest, a temporary diversion.
But I knew, without a shadow of doubt, that Kyllian was more than just a prize.
She was a force.
I pushed off the door, a grim smile twisting my lips.
Morpheus’ words, “The Brotherhood’s never had an old lady,” echoed in my mind, a stark reminder of the shift she represented.
This wasn’t just about Jessup anymore, or about collecting a debt.
It was about something far more complicated, something that threatened to unravel the very fabric of my life.
I was caught between the unbreakable code of the Brotherhood and the undeniable pull of the woman who held my attention, my focus, my very damn soul.
And the path ahead was as uncertain and dangerous as the storm brewing within me.
Narrowing my eyes, I flipped my brothers the one-finger bird and entered into the fray... and prayed that God would have mercy on my soul because tonight, I was playing for Kyllian. And I would not lose.
The second I stepped back into the room, all hell broke loose.
“You think I’m going to stay here, letting you play your sick twisted games with me?
” Kyllian’s voice, though trembling, was laced with a fury that belied her frail appearance.
She held a heavy tome, its spine cracked and worn, as a makeshift weapon to use against me.
“You lied to me. You promised me... I can’t remember what it was, but it was something.
And all I got was this gilded cage and your pathetic brothers leering at me like I’m some kind of fucking prize. ”
Her accusation hung in the air, a challenge that I absorbed with grim satisfaction. I had pushed her, pushed her harder than anyone, and now she was fighting back with the only weapons she had left: her words, her defiance, and her unyielding spirit.
“And you think after acting like this, I will let you out of here anytime soon?” My voice was a low growl, laced with dangerous amusement.
I took a step closer, my predatory gaze sweeping over her, lingering on the fading bruised skin that was a testament to Jessup’s brutality.
“You’re mine, Kitten. My collateral. Until Jessup pays his debt, you’re not going anywhere. And after that... well, we’ll see.”
I reached out, my large hand hovering near her face, not to strike, but to trace the faint bruise fading on her cheekbone.
My touch, a stark contradiction to my words, sent a tremor through her, a chilling mix of fear and something that felt terrifyingly like attraction.
It was a calculated move, I knew, meant to disarm, to lull her into a false sense of security.
But Kyllian’s instincts, honed by years of survival, screamed danger.
“Mine?” Kyllian scoffed, her voice laced with a bitter sarcasm as she swatted my hand away, her eyes blazing with a defiant fire.
“You think you own me? You think because you kidnapped me, because you’ve locked me away, that I’m yours to play with?
” She stood taller, her trembling form radiating a fierce, desperate courage.
“You’re wrong. I’m not your collateral. I’m not your plaything. And I will never be yours.”
Her words, though a whisper against the storm of her power, were a declaration of war, a promise that even in her gilded cage, her spirit would not be easily broken.
The laughter that erupted from me wasn’t one of amusement, but a harsh, guttural sound that reverberated through the room.
I stepped closer, my massive frame eclipsing the dim light—a dark, formidable force.
“You’ve got fire, Kitten,” I rumbled, my voice a dangerous purr as I recalled the words I said to her the night we met.
“I like that. But fire without a place to burn is just wasted energy. And you, my little defiant kitten, are a whole lot of wasted energy right now. You’ll learn to earn your keep.
You’ll learn your place. Or you’ll wish for death.
” I reached out again, my hand closing around her neck, my grip like iron.
“And if you think you can escape me, or if you think I’ll let you go without looking for you, you’re more foolish than you look. ”