Page 54 of Tormented By Regret

“I knew you were special, Whisper, but this... this is beyond my wildest expectations."

He pulled the fabric away from me, replacing it with a heavy metal object. The raven cawed desperately, fluttering its wings against the confines of the small space.

“A shape-shifting little bird. I’d heard of the strange things that happened within the Royal Bastard, but this is fascinating."

The raven’s eyes met Hargrave's cold, calculating gaze. He stepped closer, a cruel smile twisting his lips. With a swift motion, he secured the makeshift cage, trapping me completely. I cawed desperately, the sound echoing through the still night, but there was no one to hear, no one to help.

The raven flapped her wings in a futile attempt to escape, the cage rattling with each movement. Fear coursed through me, sharper than any pain. Hargrave knelt, bringing his face level with mine, his eyes gleaming with a twisted kind of excitement.

"There's no use struggling, little bird," he taunted, his voice low and menacing. "You're mine now."

The raven cawed in helpless panic, a sound filled with despair and terror. My worst fears had come true. I was captured, trapped in my most vulnerable form, and at the mercy of a man who had no mercy.

SPECTRE

When Jameson called me in, I knew something had gone very wrong. I was never called in and the last I heard was that Powertrain had gotten a visit from his past, which meant his present was now in danger. And from what I heard, as much as I didn’t like it, my daughter seemed to be in his future.

Either way, getting a call from the President of the RBMC to stop what I was working on to show up for Church, didn’t sit well with me. I hadn’t shown my face in Church since Bulldog passed on. It had been over ten years since half these members had seen me last. I got tense looks as I wandered through the foyer and toward the back of the clubhouse where I knew Jameson was waiting on me.

As I walked past one of the rooms a voice stopped me. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Came to visit your family for once, did ya?”

I turned to find Helsing, our Chaplain, standing in the middle of what looked to be the kitchen. He held a coffee mug in one hand and carried a notebook in the other. He was wearing purple clogs, a care bear t-shirt and what looked like swirly poop pajama pants.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, friend. Do you know where your children are?” He clipped, doing a reference to an old ninety’s news commercial.

“You’re not funny.” And it wasn’t amusing, not in the least bit, but Helsing liked to be a smartass.

“You know, I try,” he shrugged, handing me his mug. It had the words, Don’t Talk to Me, written on the side. I narrowed my eyes on him, but he ignored me as he poured another cup of coffee. When he turned to me and I raised a brow, as the new mug read, I Ride so I don’t Choke People.

“Drink up,” he said. “You’re gonna need it.”

I took a sip of the coffee and quickly spit it out. “It’s bitter as fuck!”

“It’s Irish. A little whiskey in your coffee never hurt anyone.”

I set the mug down and sighed. “You don’t change, do you?”

“Never have, never will.” He brushed past me.

I’d known Hellsing for a long time and for what it was worth, you had to respect him. He'd come from the same school as Exorcist, our former Chaplain, and he'd fought some wicked demons in his day. And yet even with all the devils at play, he kept his light heartedness. He found everything amusing and his smartass comments were his defense to pretty much everything. As much as he seemed empathetic and loyal to the RBMC, I wouldn't ever cross him. I heard a Reaper did once, and he paid heavily for that. Because as normal as he wanted us to think of him as, we all knew that Hellsing wasn’t who he made himself out to be. He was still our brother though, and we would still protect him even if it meant protecting him from himself.

I followed him down the hall. “Don’t tell me the Prez call you in as well?”

“He called Church, didn’t he? Do you honestly think I’d look like this if I wasn’t yanked out of my warm bed at the crack of dawn.”

“You know what, I’m not sure anymore.” I shook my head in defeat.

We walked into the Royal Bastards conference room, and I immediately took note of the changes Jameson had made. The room was different, higher end and expensive looking.

At the center of it all stood a new steel conference table, its sleek surface gleaming under the overhead lights. It was a bold departure from the old wooden one his father had bought. But it wasn't just the table that caught my eye. The entire room had been outfitted with high-end tech, from the state-of-the-art projector mounted on the wall to the sleek touchscreen panels embedded in the table itself. It was a far cry from the outdated equipment we had been using before. Old photos of the club hung on either side of the walls, and a sense of nostalgia ran through me as the still black and whites instilled memories of past days.

“Dad?” The word tore me from my memories, and I turned to look at Macabre. My son had gotten older since the last time I saw him.

“Ethan,” I tried to keep my voice from craving but that was near impossible.

He simply stood there, staring at me, and for an instant I didn’t know how to react. It wasn’t until Hellsing gestured at me that I walked up to my son, clamping my hands on his shoulders.

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