Chapter Thirty-Seven
Kyllian
“Hey, boys!” Alice, the owner of the Deadwood Café, happily greeted us as we all walked in.
If I thought it was just going to be me and Firestride today, I was sorely mistaken because the second I entered the main gathering room of the clubhouse, most of the Brotherhood stood waiting, their eyes on me.
“Find a seat and I will be right with you. It’s good to see you again, Kyllian. ”
“You too, Alice,” I barely got out before Firestride pulled me toward a booth. I tried to yank my hand away as I glared up at the man. “What the hell is your problem? I was just saying hi.”
“I’m hungry.”
“Then go sit your ass down. Alice said she would be right over.”
“Sit,” he firmly ordered as his brothers chuckled, finding their own seats, watching intently as I refused to back down.
Standing my ground, I looked up at the large fucker and said, “If I am going to be your old lady, there are going to be rules. Rule number one: I’m allowed to talk to whomever I want.”
Firestride growled, then leaned close, our noses damn near touching. “You are my old lady, Kitten. No ifs about it. Now sit down.”
Firestride’s grip on my arm tightened just a little, but I met his gaze without flinching.
The air between us buzzed with a tension that only the Brotherhood seemed to find amusing, judging by their low laughter from across the room.
Alice returned with a pot of coffee and set it down, giving me a reassuring wink.
I poured myself a cup, careful not to spill any as Firestride watched my every move, both protective and possessive in equal measure.
The booth felt too small for everything unspoken, but I refused to let him see me falter.
Eventually, the room settled into a low hum of conversation and clinking mugs.
I glanced around, catching snippets of talk—plans for the visiting guests, rumors about a new recruit, and the ever-present undercurrent of club business.
It struck me how quickly this ragtag group had become my circle, my chaos, my home, even if the rules kept shifting beneath my feet.
“Scooch over,” Alice said, sliding into the booth next to me, unperturbed by Firestride’s glare. “God, my feet are killing me.”
“That’s because you need a better waitress,” I said, glaring at the bitch shoving her tits in Carver’s face.
Alice rubbed her temples, exhaustion written all over her face. “If you are offering, then you’re hired. This place runs on sheer stubbornness and caffeine. I can’t keep good help,” she muttered, pouring herself a cup and offering a crooked grin. “But hey, at least the coffee’s strong.”
I smiled, feeling the warmth of camaraderie settle around us, even if Firestride kept a wary eye on the woman.
“If you’re serious, I would like to take you up on that offer.”
Firestride growled.
“Seriously?” Alice beamed. “You mean it? You’re staying in Deadwood?”
Pointing at the growling fucker across from me, I smiled. “He seems to think so. Besides, I can’t stay cooped up in the clubhouse every day. I’ll go insane. So, if you want me, I’m yours.”
“Mine,” Firestride growled.
Giving the snarly fuck my full attention, I said, “Rule number two: I’m allowed to have a job. Now shut up and eat your damn food before it gets cold.”
Alice snorted, taking a long sip from her mug. “You’re a piece of work, Firestride. But if Kyllian’s willing to help out, you could at least try not to scare off my last shot at decent help.”
Firestride just grunted, but I could see the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. Alice and I exchanged a look—one of those silent agreements forged over shared exhaustion and gallons of coffee—as another brother walked into the café.
Smiling from ear to ear, Cerberus walked over and slid into the booth next to Firestride, who grunted and grumbled even more. “How’s my two favorite women in the world this morning?”
“Busy,” Alice snapped quickly, leaving the booth.
Looking at Cerberus, I asked, “What the hell was that?”
Cerberus shrugged, eyes dancing with amusement, refusing to answer my question as he grabbed a fork, stealing a bite from Firestride’s plate, earning himself a low snarl. “So, what’s everyone doing today?”
The ride from Deadwood into Rapid City took less than forty minutes, and before I could even ask what we were doing in the city, Firestride pulled into my driveway, while his brothers all pulled in around him, some even parking on my lawn.
I cringed because I knew before they cut their engines that all hell was about to break loose, and it did.
“Kyllian Ward!” The high-pitched shrill of my neighbor, Mrs. Butler, overshadowed the roar of the bikes as the woman marched right over to me.
“What in God’s name do you think you are doing, young lady?
Where is my car you stole? I knew you were trouble when I first met you.
I’ve called the police. They are on the way to arrest you.
I hope you know how much trouble you are in, young lady! ”
Mrs. Butler’s accusations drew the attention of half the block, faces peering out from behind curtains and screen doors as I glared at the bitter, uptight woman.
After months of dealing with her hostility, verbal abuse, and judgment, I refused to take it anymore, and my anger bubbled deep inside me, ready to spill over.
Stepping off Firestride’s bike, I walked right over to her and got in the bitch’s face. “I came to you for help, and you were going to turn me in. I heard you on the phone. You told someone I was here. That I had Karter. Who the hell did you call?”
“That’s my business!”
“Wrong,” I growled, stepping closer to the woman. “You were going to hand me and a little girl over to some stranger, even after I begged you for help. You could have turned me away. Instead, you let me inside your home.”
“I did not!” Mrs. Butler snapped. “You barged in. I couldn’t get you to leave, and then you stole my car! I hope when that man finds you, he teaches you a right good lesson. I told you the life you lead would come to no good.”
I gasped at Mrs. Butler smug smile as she clutched Mr. Kibbles. The brothers gathered closer, and the crowd quieted as the tension between us hung heavy in the air. The sound of distant sirens echoed down the street, growing louder with each passing second.
“You fucking bitch!” I roared, lunging for the woman as Firestride quickly grabbed me.
Kicking and screaming, I clawed at him, desperately trying to get to the vile woman.
“You fucking cunt! You called the man who killed my family the night I showed up on your doorstep. Is that who you’re fucking talking about? ”
The police cars screeched to a halt, their flashing lights and sirens drowning out the vitriol the cunt spewed.
Faces, a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, peered from behind drawn curtains as Firestride’s grip around me tightened, a silent warning, a reminder of his presence, his power, and the invisible chains that now bound me to him.
My gaze flickered to the approaching officers, their faces grim, their hands hovering near their holsters.
They were here for me, no doubt. Mrs. Butler’s accusations, amplified by the flashing lights and the hushed whispers of the neighbors, had painted a target on my back. “You saw her! She tried to attack me!”
But as I met Firestride’s obsidian eyes, a strange calm settled over me. He saw the storm brewing within me, the righteous fury that had finally erupted, and for the first time, his gaze held not just possession, but a flicker of grudging respect.
“Arrest her!” Mrs. Butler demanded as the two detectives I met shortly after Keely was killed walked over. “That’s her right there. She stole my car!”
Detective Powell glanced over at me and smirked. “We meet again, Miss. Ward.”
Firestride growled.
Mrs. Butler huffed. “I should have known you’d be acquainted with the law, Kyllian Ward.”
Detective Powell’s smirk faded as he turned serious, looking from Mrs. Butler to the other officers. “Let’s keep this civil, shall we? We’ll need statements from everyone here.”
“Ma’am, why don’t you and I walk over to your house so I can get your statement?” Detective Ibanez offered kindly as the crowd murmured, shifting uneasily when the detective led her away.
I felt Firestride’s hand move to the small of my back—a subtle gesture of support or restraint, I couldn’t tell. My heart hammered, caught between the urge to strangle the woman and the hope that maybe someone, anyone, would finally listen to my side of the story.
Looking around at the brothers surrounding me, Detective Powell muttered, “Maybe we should take this inside.”
“Good idea.” Wanderer stepped forward, and I gasped.
“Oh my God! You’re...”
Before I could finish what I was about to say, a hand clamped over my mouth, silencing me.
“Inside. Now!” Firestride ordered.
Inside my house, Detective Powell didn’t waste any time. “The entire RCPD has been looking for you, Miss. Ward. Where is the child?”
My breath caught in my throat, my living room suddenly feeling smaller with the weight of Detective Powell’s question.
I glanced at Firestride for reassurance, then squared my shoulders, trying to keep my voice steady.
“The child is safe,” I said, choosing my words with care.
“But I need you to understand why I did what I did. This whole situation is more complicated than you think.”
Detective Powell’s eyes narrowed, clearly expecting more, but I stayed silent, determined not to reveal everything just yet.
“This is a clusterfuck,” Detective Powell rumbled as he paced the small room before rounding on Wanderer. “Please tell me your club has nothing to do with these murders?”
Wanderer shrugged. “Wasn’t us.”
Pointing a finger in his face, Detective Powell sneered, “Keep it that way.”
Wanderer didn’t blink and tried to bite the finger as Detective Powell shoved him away. “Fucking pain in my ass. Keep it up, Tyrone, and I will call Mom.”
Wanderer stiffened.
“Yeah.” Detective Powell smirked. “That’s what I thought.
” Turning back toward me, he sighed. “I’ve got a problem, Miss.
Ward. The RCPD has a missing person BOLO on you.
I need to bring you in for your own safety, but from the way that large fucker behind you is glaring at me, I don’t think he will allow that. ”
“I didn’t kill them, Detective,” I whispered.
Detective Powell sighed. “Stop with the detective shit. My name is Tyrese, and I know you didn’t kill anyone. But someone did and until we catch the killer, you are still in danger.” Looking at Firestride, he asked, “She yours?”
Firestride nodded.
“Good. Then keep her hidden. I don’t want to know why all of you are in the city, but until the RCPD can catch this killer, she needs to be kept safe. Karter too.”
“Go grab what you can carry, Kitten. We are leaving in five minutes.”
“I need more time to pack.”
“Go. Now,” he stated with a firm slap to my ass.
Heading upstairs, I quickly packed what I could throw into my old school backpack.
It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.
Heading back downstairs, I heard Detective Powell say, “The murders are club related. Something to do with the Satan’s Angels out of Birmingham.
Everyone dead has a connection to that club. ”
“Yeah, Nano said as much,” Carver admitted. “Any DNA evidence yet?”
“No, and you should know he’s escalating.” The detective groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.
“What do you mean?” Scythe asked.
“He just shoots the men, but the woman. It’s sickening to even think about. Kyllian was lucky. With the others, he just defiled their corpses, but Karen… What that son of a bitch did to Karen was horrendous. He mutilated her. Cut her into pieces. He made an example out of her.”
I gasped, and everyone turned toward me.
Firestride moved fast, blocking me from their view as I clung to his cut, my head buried against his chest, tears streaming down my face.
“Get her the fuck out of this city,” Detective Powell ordered as I heard the front door open. “I will call if I learn anything new and, Tyrone, call Mom before she shows up on your doorstep.”
I flinched when the door slammed shut.