Chapter Thirty-Four
Firestride
Stepping over the dead body, as two club brothers rushed over to clean up the mess, I walked right over to Morpheus, dropping a bag at his feet while my eyes never strayed from Kyllian’s.
“Henderson paid his debt in full, then took out another loan. Twenty grand this time. Gave him the loan at seventy percent.”
Morpheus sighed. “Fucker can’t repay that, and he knows it. How much time did you give him?”
“One month.”
Sighing, Morpheus bent over, picked up the bag, and threw it at Cobalt. “Henderson’s debt.”
The club’s treasurer nodded, disappearing with the bag.
“Got company coming next week. Gonna need you to get your old lady to play hostess.”
“I’m not his anything,” Kyllian snapped from behind Morpheus, her words a desperate attempt to reclaim control, even as I watched a tremor run through her. She turned and walked away, her shoulders stiff, back ramrod straight, still stubborn and defiant as ever.
Groaning, Morpheus shook his head, his familiar frustration curdling into something deeper, more dangerous. “If you two don’t get your shit together soon, I’m going to lose my fucking temper,” he demanded as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I can handle her,” I said, my voice tight, a stark contrast to the raw defiance Kyllian had just displayed. But Morpheus heard the lie beneath my bravado. He saw the way my gaze flickered away, the subtle clenching of my jaw.
“Really?” Morpheus mocked, the sound harsh in the tense silence.
He stepped closer, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“Because it looks as if she’s got you by the balls, brother.
Bitch can’t even look at you without snarling.
Is this what you call control? Or are you just another pussy-whipped fool blinded by. .. whatever this is?”
I bristled at Morpheus’ words, anger flickering hot beneath my skin.
Yet, beneath the bravado, a thread of doubt wound tighter, threatening to unravel the resolve I barely held together.
I wanted to protest, to tell Morpheus he was wrong, but the truth lodged stubbornly in my throat, choking any retort.
The tension between us hung heavy, charged with things unsaid and the weight of everything that was at stake.
“Just fucking get the bitch on board and fast.” With that, Morpheus stormed off toward his office, slamming the door closed behind him.
Striding over to the bar, Xzibit slid me a beer, saying nothing as Cerberus took a seat next to me.
“He’s right, you know,” Cerberus said, his voice a low growl that rumbled beside me. He took a long swig of his own beer, his eyes fixed on the bottle in his hands. “She’s got you by the balls, Firestride. And you know it.”
I slammed my hand on the bar, the rough wood groaning under the impact.
“Shut the fuck up, Cerberus. She’s just a hole I want to fuck.
When I’m done with her, I’ll cut her loose.
” But my words felt hollow even to my own ears.
The fire that had once burned so brightly within me had been reduced to a smoldering ember, and Kyllian was the match that had somehow ignited it again.
I’d been so focused on breaking her, on asserting my dominance, that I hadn’t seen the cracks forming in my own armor.
She was a complication I could no longer afford, an instability that threatened to unravel everything I wanted to keep hidden.
“You fucking love her,” Cerberus gasped, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.
“Holy fuck. You went and fell in love with the bitch. That’s what the problem is.
It’s not that you can’t control her; it’s that you don’t want to control her.
You love the bitch just the way she is!” Roaring with laughter, Cerberus got up and slapped me hard on my back. “Fuck me, the bitch neutered you!”
“You have lost your fucking mind, Cerberus,” I snarled, my words ripped from my throat, raw and ragged. My fist slammed down on the bar again, harder this time, the wood groaning in protest.
Love? The word was a foreign concept, a weakness I’d long since purged from my system.
Kyllian was a complication, a dangerous distraction, a fire I’d tried to extinguish but had only managed to fuel.
She was the crack in my armor, the instability that threatened to bring down the entire edifice of my existence.
Cerberus’s laughter, harsh and unyielding, echoed my own self-recrimination.
He saw it too—the war raging within me, the battle between the hardened bastard they knew and the man she was uncovering.
And he wasn’t wrong. She had neutered me, stripped me bare, and in doing so, had claimed a piece of my soul I never knew existed.
“She’s got you twisted, brother,” Cerberus said, his smirk widening. He clapped me on the back, the force of the blow jarring but strangely grounding. “Face it, Firestride. You’re in love. And there’s no coming back from that.”
His words, blunt and brutal, landed like a physical blow.
Love? The idea was absurd, dangerous, a betrayal of everything I stood for.
But as I met his knowing gaze, a chilling truth settled in my gut.
He was right. I was in love with the bitch, with her fire, her defiance, her utter refusal to be broken.
And that made me a liability, a weakness the Brotherhood couldn’t afford.
Morpheus would see it, and he would exploit it.
“I don’t love her,” I refuted, the lie unconvincing, even to my own ears.
My words felt like a betrayal of the feelings I’d tried so desperately to deny, a desperate attempt to cling to the man I was supposed to be.
Cerberus just chuckled, a low, knowing sound that confirmed my deepest fear.
He knew I was lying, and he knew I knew it.
Suddenly, the bar seemed colder, the shadows deeper, as if the world was closing in around me.
The weight of Cerberus’s words pressed against my chest, making it harder to breathe.
I stared into my beer, searching for some kind of answer, but all I saw was my own reflection—haunted, conflicted, and desperately trying to hold on to the remnants of a life that was slipping through my fingers.
Getting up from the bar, I stormed out of the clubhouse.
Fuck this shit.
I wasn’t in love with Kyllian Ward.
I didn’t know how long I rode for, but when I pulled up into my mother’s driveway, I wasn’t surprised to find her sitting on the porch steps waiting for me. Somehow, she always knew when I needed her. And fuck me, did I need someone to make sense of what the hell was going on with me.
Cutting my engine, I got off my bike and walked over to her.
“Cerberus called me. He had a feeling you might be stopping by.”
“Fucker’s got a big mouth.”
My mom smirked. “Yes, he does, but he means well.”
Scooting over, she patted the concrete step. “Sit down and tell me what’s going on?”
“Where’s Anna Joy?”
“At her karate lesson with Scythe. So we are alone.”
I dropped down beside her, the cool concrete pressing against the back of my legs.
For a few moments, I just breathed, letting the quiet settle in while my mind raced.
My mom waited patiently, her hands folded in her lap, eyes gentle but sharp in the porch light.
Finally, I said, “Everything feels messed up. I keep telling myself I don’t care, but I can’t shake this heaviness. ”
She reached over, squeezing my hand, and for a second, I let myself lean into her comfort. “Maybe that’s the point,” she murmured. “Maybe caring is what makes you stronger, not weaker.”
“I’m too much like him, Mom. I don’t know how to be anything else.”
Releasing my hand, she looked off into the distance and sighed. “You are nothing like him, Joshua. You never have been. I raised you. You are my son. He was the weak one.”
I looked down at my hands, wishing there was an easy way to believe her. “It’s hard, Mom. Every time I see his shadow, I feel it in me. Like I’m fighting something that’s already part of who I am.”
She brushed a stray lock of hair off my forehead, her touch gentle and grounding. “You get to choose what you carry, Josh. The past isn’t a chain—it’s a lesson. You’re stronger than you think, and you’re not alone in this.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come.
The porch light cast long shadows, making the yard look almost unfamiliar—the world felt smaller, tighter somehow.
My mom’s voice, steady and unwavering, cut through the doubt.
“You have your own heart, Joshua. I’ve seen the way you fight for those you love, even when it’s hard. That’s strength.”
“I claimed her in front of my brothers today. I didn’t mean to. The words just stumbled out.”
“The man I know does nothing he doesn’t mean to. How did Kyllian react?”
I smirked. “She basically told me to go fuck myself. Said she wasn’t anyone’s before she stormed off, pissed again.”
My mom’s lips curled into a wry smile. “My guess is Kyllian doesn’t enjoy being told what to do or who she belongs to.
She’s got a fire in her, just like you.” She nudged me playfully, her tone softening.
“You two clash because you care—don’t let a few harsh words fool you. Sometimes, honesty comes out messy.”
I shrugged, feeling the weight of her words settle somewhere deep. “Maybe. I just... I wish things didn’t have to be so complicated.”
She squeezed my shoulder, anchoring me in the moment. “Complicated means you’re living, Josh. It means it matters.”
I leaned forward and hung my head. “God, Mom. I keep messing everything up with her. Every time I think I have a handle on her, she changes the script, and I have to start all over again. Why can’t she just do what she’s told?”
My mother laughed. “Because she’s a woman, Son. Kyllian has a mind of her own. She’s not a club whore who will bend and do anything asked of her. Kyllian is strong, independent, and knows what she wants. And if I’m right, Kyllian’s past won’t allow her to cede control to anyone. Not even you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I saw pain in her eyes, Son. I saw the bruises marring her face that day when I invited her to lunch. I’m betting Kyllian hasn’t had a good life.
The girl is scared, Joshua. Her family is dying all around her.
She’s in a ruthless clubhouse with men who don’t really give a damn about anything, and then there is you.
Instead of talking to her, you tried to break her even more.
And before you say anything, your brothers are worse gossips than women.
I know what’s been going on at the clubhouse. ”
“That’s because she’s a survivor, Mom,” I said, the words heavy with a truth I could no longer deny. “And I’m the last thing she needs. She needs to get out of this life. Out of this town. Out from under my shadow.”
My mother looked at me, her eyes filled with a wisdom that transcended her years.
“And you believe that?” she asked softly.
“You believe that running from what you are, from who you are, will make either of you stronger?” She squeezed my hand, her touch a familiar comfort.
“Joshua, you can’t outrun your past. But you can choose what you build from it.
And from what I’ve seen, Kyllian has a strength that mirrors your own.
You clash because you’re both fighters. You both understand what it means to be forged in fire. ”
I leaned my head against her shoulder, the weight of the world pressing down. “But, Mom, she hates me.”
She chuckled, a warm, melodious sound that filled the quiet evening.
“She hates what you represent, Joshua. She hates the pain you’ve inflicted.
But I saw something else in her eyes, too.
Something deeper. A flicker of curiosity.
A recognition, perhaps. She sees the man you are fighting to be, not just the Bastard you’ve been forced to become.
” She paused, her voice taking on a more serious tone.
“You’ve made mistakes, Son. We all have.
But you haven’t let them define you. And neither will she if you give her the chance. ”
The idea of her, of Kyllian, had become a constant ache, a dangerous distraction from the hardened reality of my existence.
The Brotherhood was my family, my life, my everything.
Yet, she had cracked my granite exterior and exposed a raw, untamed landscape beneath.
Now, I was standing on the precipice of a choice that felt like a gamble with my very soul.
I knew I couldn’t let her go. Not yet. Not until I understood the fire she’d ignited within me, a fire that threatened to consume me entirely, or forge me into something stronger than I’d ever imagined.
“She’s mine, Mom,” I finally admitted, the words a raw confession torn from the depths of my being. “And I’m not letting her go. Not ever.”
The truth, spoken aloud, settled not with relief, but with staggering certainty.
I was no longer just Firestride, the Sergeant at Arms of the Brotherhood of Bastards.
I was Joshua Michael, a man caught between two worlds, and Kyllian, my defiant kitten, was the one thing that made me feel truly alive, truly human, even in the heart of the darkness.