Chapter Forty
Kyllian
None of the brothers moved as the stranger gathered up the broken man and walked out of the clubhouse. Even when we all heard the front door shut, I stayed put, a knot of dread tightening in my gut. My own two feet felt cemented to the floor, a prisoner of my own reckless tongue.
I knew the fucking rules. I was an observer, a shadow in this place, not someone who dared to utter a single syllable out of turn. My blood pulsed in my veins, a frantic drumbeat of self-recrimination.
I should have bitten my tongue, but even I fucking knew that neither man would relent. I was only trying to move this along, whatever the hell it was. A power play? A test to see who had the bigger dick?
I didn’t know, and quite frankly, I didn’t care.
I was so tired of club politics. I’d had a belly full, and I wanted no more of it.
For years I endured the threats, the degradation, the fear of it all just because I was a woman.
A thing men used for their own gratification.
Enough was enough. If Morpheus wanted to pitch a fucking fit, yell and scream at me for speaking out of turn, then he shouldn’t have invited me into his inner sanctum.
“I’m not going to apologize.”
“Never thought you would.”
“Then why is everyone looking at me like I’m about to have my ass handed to me?”
“Kitten, the only one in this club who will hand you your ass is Firestride. I want to know what made you think of Frankie’s Diner?”
I shrugged. “Worked there for all of two seconds. I remembered Frankie telling me his place was neutral territory. That all clubs were welcome.”
“Kitten thinks fast, brother,” Wanderer said, winking at me. “She’s right. Frankie’s will be the perfect place to make the exchange.”
As the tension in the room thickened, I felt everyone’s eyes on me, weighing every word and gesture.
Wanderer’s casual wink did little to ease the anxiety rolling in my chest, but I refused to let it show.
The conversation shifted, but beneath the surface, I could sense the anticipation building—everyone was readying themselves for whatever came next.
“That’s if Montana holds up his end of the bargain,” Cobalt muttered.
“He better,” Morpheus sneered as he looked at Inferno. “Where is the dead bastard?”
“Out with Cerberus and Firestride collecting debts. Should be back later today.”
“No one says a fucking word when he returns. I mean it. I want to confront the bastard myself,” Morpheus ordered, then leaned back in his seat and said, “In the meantime, we have company coming tomorrow. Kitten, I want you to play hostess.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’re the first old lady of this club, and you know the rules.”
“Just because I know them doesn’t mean I play by them.”
“No.” Morpheus chuckled. “You sure as hell don’t, and it’s a good thing the Brotherhood makes its own rules, but I still want you front and center, anyway. Is that going to be a problem?”
“Depends on the brothers.”
“What’s that mean?” Vortex asked.
I shrugged, my gaze flicking from Vortex to Morpheus.
“It means some of you don’t play well with others, much less when the ladies have more bite than bark.
If things get out of hand, don’t expect me to play peacekeeper.
” I crossed my arms, a hint of challenge in my voice.
“I’ll do my best, but you know how quickly things can turn around here.
By company, I’m assuming you mean another club.
I don’t know how the Brotherhood hosted visiting clubs in the past, but the rule of thumb is, the hosting club provides everything from food to entertainment. ”
“That’s easy enough.” Cobalt grinned.
“You need more whores,” I said.
“How many more?” Wanderer asked.
“At least ten more,” I stated, then added, “And more alcohol. With these gatherings, the brothers will go through the alcohol faster than the whores. What club is visiting?”
“Disturbed,” Morpheus clearly stated, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes watching my every move.
I knew he was testing me. To see what I knew.
What I would reveal. I wasn’t stupid. I knew they all knew who I was.
What my background entailed. Though none of them ever brought it up.
Which was disconcerting, but I would not let any of them intimidate me.
If they wanted to know what I knew, then I would tell them.
I sighed, rubbing my temples. “The entire club is composed of former military. Which means they are all deadly in their own right. Definitely more alcohol and food than whores. The president has an old lady, and if the rumors about her are true, stay the fuck away from her. She will gut you before you blink. And watch out for the enforcers, Trash and Agony. Those two are lethal. How many are they bringing?”
“The whole club,” Morpheus informed, grinning from ear to ear.
“The president recently adopted a young boy. So, he is going to need a room away from the gathering. Maybe bring in Helen and Anna Joy. Inferno, you can stash Karter with them. Have a few of the brothers guarding the door because you can be damn sure Luc will have his own men watching his son.”
“What else?” Cobalt asked, jotting down what I was saying.
“Who’s doing the cooking?”
When the brothers all shifted in their seats and stayed silent, I groaned. “Please tell me that someone here knows how to fucking cook?”
“We prefer fucking to cooking, Kitten.” Carver chuckled.
“Yeah, well, fucking won’t fill bellies.”
“Oh, it does, just not in the way you’re thinking.” Heretic laughed, high-fiving Garrote as the rest of the brothers roared with laughter.
Rolling my eyes, I shook my head, refusing to comment on that. “I’ll reach out to Alice and see if she’d like to help out. She’s the only one I know who can cook for a large gathering.”
“Oh, Cerberus is going to love that.” Wanderer roared with laughter.
“Cerberus can keep his dick in his pants. If I ask Alice to help out, I want her treated as an old lady. Hands off. I mean it, or you fuckers can figure this shit out yourselves,” I said firmly, standing my ground.
I didn’t know what the hell was going on between Cerberus and the local diner owner, but I liked Alice, and I refused to let these bastards intimidate her.
My words hung in the air, a challenge thrown into the wolf’s den.
The brothers shifted, their usual boisterous energy momentarily quelled by my unexpected assertiveness.
Morpheus, ever the calculating force, observed me with an unreadable gaze, a hint of something akin to grudging respect flickering in his obsidian eyes.
He knew I was right; the Brotherhood’s hospitality often leaned towards brute force over finesse, and feeding an entire club like Disturbed would require more than just.. . willing hands.
“Alice... she’s a good woman, Morpheus,” I continued, my voice firm, defying the tremble that threatened to betray me.
“She deserves to be treated with respect, not like some... plaything for the club’s drunken appetites.
If she helps, she’s treated as an old lady, and that means hands off. Is that understood?”
I scanned their faces, daring anyone to object.
Vortex, surprisingly, offered a nod, a silent acknowledgment of my point, though Wanderer’s booming laughter signaled a different kind of understanding.
The threat hung in the air, unspoken but potent: I would not tolerate disrespect towards Alice, and if they couldn’t manage it, they could figure out their own damn catering.
“Fine,” Morpheus conceded, a rare note of pragmatism in his gravelly voice.
“Alice gets treated as an old lady. And, Kitten”—he fixed his gaze on me, the predator in him momentarily subdued by a flicker of something else—“you’re on hostess duty.
You make sure our guests are entertained, and you make damn sure they don’t start any shit. You understand?”
The weight of his expectations settled upon me, a heavy cloak I was learning to wear, whether I liked it or not.