Chapter Twenty-One
Firestride
“You’ve been holed up in your room for three days now, brother,” Morpheus stated as I sat in his office wondering why he needed to talk to me. “So, how’s the honeymoon going?”
“She knows her place.”
“You better be damn sure because I’m going to test her today.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, Firestride,” Morpheus said, his voice vibrating with an authority I could never challenge.
He leaned back in his chair, a shadow falling across his face, making his eyes seem even darker than usual.
“She’s the collateral. She’s the leverage.
And Jessup needs to know that we’re serious about collecting his debt.
Having her there, seeing what we do to him.
.. it will seal her obedience. It’ll show her who’s in charge. It’ll remind her of her place.”
It was a brutal lesson, but in this world, brutality was often the most effective teacher.
Yet, I felt a knot tighten in my gut.
The idea of Kyllian witnessing what we were about to do to Jessup.
.. it went against everything I was beginning to feel for her, a dangerous tenderness that had no place in the Brotherhood.
But Morpheus’ word was law. “She’s not going to break.
She’s got more fire than any of us,” I countered, the lie slipping easily from my lips.
I’d seen her defiance, her unyielding spirit, and the thought of that spirit being crushed by the sheer horror of it all. .. it sickened me.
Morpheus’ lips curved into a chilling smile, a predatory flash that sent a shiver down my spine.
“That’s good because while the club questions Jessup, she’s going to be there, by your side.
I want him to see her complete obedience and submission.
And if she doesn’t break, then I will allow you to keep her and make her the first old lady in the Brotherhood. ”
The implication was clear.
My control over her, my burgeoning feelings, were irrelevant.
He wouldn’t trust her until she understood the Brotherhood’s unforgiving justice.
“Also, while you’ve been fucking your bitch into submission, that sick motherfucker struck again. This time a woman named Keely Johnson. Some stripper who worked at the Prancing Pussycat.”
I frowned. “Kyllian worked there.”
“A connection?”
Leaning back in the chair, I admitted, “It’s thin for sure, but we can’t ignore it. Want me to look into it?”
“No, I’ve got Nano on it. He’s digging into this Keely’s past. We’ll know soon enough. Also got word that the Death Dogs have settled in Wyoming, near the border of Nebraska.”
I stiffened. “Do you think they suspect anything?”
Getting to his feet, Morpheus stretched to his full height and grinned. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough. Won’t we?”
“I don’t understand. I promised I wouldn’t say anything. Why am I down here?” Kyllian asked as she looked around the basement, turning when the door at the top of the stairs opened and the officers in the brotherhood walked down them. Morpheus led the way.
Seeing Kyllian, he smirked but didn’t acknowledge her as he said, “Grab our guest out of the freezer, Inferno. It’s fun time.”
Facing her, I moved her toward the back wall and ordered, “Stay here. Don’t move. And keep quiet.”
She slowly nodded as Cerberus walked over to stand beside her, smiling. “Good afternoon, Kitten. I’m Cerberus. I will be your tour guide for today’s events. If you have any questions, just ask.”
“What are you talking about?” Kyllian’s voice was a thin thread of panic, her eyes darting between Cerberus and me, like a trapped animal seeking an escape.
The air in the basement hung heavy, thick with the stench of stale beer and something metallic, something that hinted at the brutality to come.
Cerberus, with his unsettlingly calm demeanor, stepped closer, his smile never reaching his eyes. “Just a little lesson, Kitten,” he purred, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. “One I truly hope you pass for your sake.”
My stomach churned.
This wasn’t the plan.
This was a twisted escalation, a deliberate acceleration designed to break her, to shatter the last vestiges of her defiance.
Morpheus’ gaze, sharp and assessing, flickered over Kyllian, a predator weighing its prey.
He saw her fear, her dawning horror, and a cruel satisfaction settled on his face.
“Firestride,” he said, his voice a low rumble that resonated with unspoken authority, “make sure your guest understands the consequences of her entanglement.”
Morpheus’ unspoken threat lingered heavy, oppressive. She was his leverage, his tool, and I was now forced to orchestrate her torment, to become the instrument of her degradation. The thought sickened me, yet the Brotherhood’s code, etched into my very bones, demanded obedience.
Standing before her, I ordered, “Kitten, I need you to listen to me. Do everything I ask. No questions. Just obey.”
The heavy metal door of the freezer creaked open, a blast of arctic air carrying with it the faint, chilling scent of something long dead.
Cerberus chuckled as he leaned against the wall, watching the two of us.
“Kneel,” I ordered.
Her eyes, wide with terror, pleaded with me, a silent scream in their depths as she slowly sank to her knees. I wanted to warn her, but I couldn’t, not without risking Morpheus’ wrath, not without risking everything he’d fought to build.
Inferno emerged from the freezer with Jessup, bound and gagged, his eyes wide with terror, his body wracked with uncontrollable tremors.
Jessup’s eyes bulged, his terrified gaze flitting between me and the hulking figures surrounding him.
Inferno’s grip on him was like iron, his knuckles white.
Kyllian, her face pale and etched with horror, watched from her kneeling position, her eyes wide with a dread I knew all too well.
The cold from the freezer was a palpable presence, seeping into the room, mirroring the icy fear that had gripped her.
Morpheus stepped forward, his presence commanding, his eyes glinting with a cold, detached amusement as he surveyed Jessup.
He pulled a worn, blood-stained ledger from his jacket, flipping through its pages with a theatrical flourish.
“Jessup Winston,” he intoned, his voice echoing in the frigid space, each syllable a hammer blow.
“You owe the Brotherhood of Bastards. And debts, as you well know, are always collected.” He met my gaze, a predatory spark igniting in his obsidian eyes.
“And your payment,” he added, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur, “is due tonight.” A slow, unnerving smile spread across his lips, a stark contrast to the grim set of his jaw.
He wasn’t just here to collect a debt; he wanted to ensure my loyalty, and he was going to use Kyllian to do that.
My stomach twisted, the weight of Morpheus’ command pressing down on me. I was being forced to orchestrate her torment, to become the instrument of her degradation, and the thought made me sick.
But his word was law.
“Unbuckle my belt and take out my cock,” I ordered, my voice a rough growl that scraped against my own conscience.
Kyllian’s eyes met mine, a flicker of terror, of betrayal, of something I couldn’t quite decipher.
She hesitated, her trembling fingers reaching for my belt buckle.
The air crackled with a tension so thick it felt like a physical force, each second stretching into an eternity.
The chill from the freezer seemed to intensify, an arctic breath that promised a pain far worse than any physical one.
She was mine, and I was about to teach her a brutal, unforgiving lesson.
A lesson I knew she would never forgive.
Her fingers, trembling and unsure, fumbled with my buckle.
The sound of it unlatching echoed in the charged silence, a prelude to the violation I was forcing upon her.
When my cock was finally freed, she didn’t flinch.
Her eyes met mine, a silent plea that tore at something within me, something I’d tried to bury for years.
But Morpheus’ gaze was a brand, searing me with his unspoken command.
Her terror was a palpable thing, a scent in the frigid air, and I knew, with a sickening certainty, that I was about to irrevocably break her.
The lesson would be severe, unforgiving, and leave scars that would never truly heal.
Inferno shoved Jessup forward, his bound hands dragging uselessly.
He stumbled, landing on his knees, the cold floor biting through his thin trousers.
His eyes, wide and wild, darted between Morpheus, Cerberus, and me.
He knew this was it. The end of the road.
The Brotherhood didn’t tolerate debtors, especially not ones who crossed them.
Morpheus stepped into Jessup’s line of sight, his face a mask of grim satisfaction. “Jessup Winston,” he announced, his voice a low rumble that promised a swift and brutal reckoning. “You owe me.”
Kyllian, still on her knees, her breath coming in ragged gasps, looked at Jessup, then at me.
The horror in her eyes was a mirror of my own internal torment.
I was the instrument of her pain, the enforcer of a debt that wasn’t hers to pay.
Yet, her trembling lips, the sheer terror etched onto her face, ignited something within me—a primal urge to protect, to shield her from the very darkness I was now a part of.
But Morpheus’ gaze was a brand, pinning me in place, demanding my obedience.
“Do it,” he commanded, his voice devoid of mercy.
I met Kyllian’s terrified gaze, my own eyes a storm of conflicting emotions. I had brought her into this, and now I was being forced to break her. The cost of Jessup’s betrayal was about to be paid, and Kyllian, my defiant kitten, would be the one to bear the brunt of it.
Holding my dick in my hand, I aimed the head at her mouth and simply said, “Suck.”