Page 25 of Bind Me

With the vision settled and making no sense to me, I push open the door, stepping into the bar. The inside strikes me as though I’ve walked into the belly of an ancient ship.

Wooden beams run overhead, like ribs of a hull, the walls covered in nets and old fishing gear that haven’t seen the sea in decades. Salt, beer, and the musky odor of damp wood linger in the air in a place that only has half a dozen men at tables, drinking.

Navigating deeper into the long bar, I spot Joe at a secluded table in the rear corner. He’s exactly as he’d described himself—wild white hair that fuzzes out around his head like sea foam. He’s built like a bear, which is unusual for a fae, hinting at some mixed heritage.

Joe has two empty glasses on the table, so I make a quick detour to the bar and order two of what’s on tap, the frothy heads spilling slightly as I carry them over to his table.

“You have to be Kaden?” he asks with a crackly voice as I set down the glasses.

“That’s me. Thanks for agreeing to see me,” I answer, sitting in the chair across from him.

He studies me with a sharp gaze, a smirk breaking his stoic expression. “You look similar to your grandpa, son. It’s bringing back memories from so long ago.” His eyes, bright green, seemingly carry the weight of his memories.

Lines etch his face, wrinkles deeply set around his eyes and along his neck. Despite the clear signs of his age, the man is undeniably tough, reminding me of my grandfather. Joe has to be over five thousand years old to have been around before my grandfather got tossed into Tartarus. They truly don’t build them like they used to—just like my grandfather.

“I’ve heard people say that we looked alike.” I take a long drink of my chilled beer, the perspiration running down my fingers from where I’m holding the glass.

“So, tell me, son, what brings you to Bergen? I heard rumors you were in town.”

The bar around us hums with a low buzz of conversations, but I lean forward, lowering my voice. “I’m not going to waste your time, so I’ll be upfront. I’m trying to find out how my grandfather ended up in Tartarus, as I’ve heard it might not have been for reasons everyone thinks. I’m told he was framed.”

Joe sets his glass down. “That’s a heavy piece of history you’re digging into,” he says, his tone darkening.

“Yeah, I know,” I acknowledge. “But it’s something I need to understand.” Not to mention, I spent one thousand goddamn years in that prison for simply being his family line and being born in there, just like my parents had been. They met in prison, married, and had me.

Thing about Tartarus was that once you’re in, you couldn’t leave, and neither could any children you gave birth to in the place.

It’s lineage sentencing, and it’s fucking unfair.

So, someone not only fucked up my grandfather’s life, but mine, too.

I refocus on Joe. His weathered face is marked by the lines that seem to deepen with his frown.

“Look, it’s not a good path you’re thinking of going down,” he utters.

I take a long sip from my glass, the cold beer doing little to ease the tension knotting my muscles. Across from me, Joe studies me carefully. He groans, his mouth twisting in disapproval that I’m not backing down.

“I see the same damn stubborn streak in you as I’d witnessed in your grandfather. And I heard and saw enough about him to stay away from the likes of him.”

“What did you hear?” I ask, curious. Neither my grandfather nor my parents told me the full details of how he ended up in Tartarus, just that he was set up. When I prodded them about who it was, I was told I was too fucking young. Then they damn died on me, and I was left with too many questions and not enough answers.

Joe shifts uncomfortably as I study him carefully, waiting for him to tell me what he knows.

“Your grandfather wasn’t seen by many as a decent man.” His fingers trace the rim of his now-empty glass. “He was involved in all sorts of illegal activities—theft, fighting, hurting anyone who stood in his way, whatever it took. He was as shady as they come, and he was involved with someone just as damn shady.”

“Who?” I ask eagerly, my thoughts flashing back to him sitting at the table with that blonde woman.

Joe shrugs. “I don’t know who. Like I said, I kept my distance. But most knew he ran some kind of racket in town, and every time something terrible happened, he was somehow involved. But it was a long time ago.” He pauses, his gaze meeting mine squarely. “Son, he got tossed into Tartarus… maybe he got what he deserved.”

“A life in hell for him and his family seems like a grave price to pay for stealing or roughing up some people.” From my understanding, he’d been involved in importing illegal materials. Perhaps it was drugs or fuck knows what, but whatever happened, he was betrayed by someone. His partner in the business is my first thought, except I have no fucking clue who it was. He never spoke of a partner.

“Son, it’s better not to dig into some pasts.” Joe chuckles darkly, then groans as he rises to his feet. “You might not like what you find.”

I swallow hard, my jaw clenching.

He steadies himself by leaning a hand on the table, then he walks away and out of the bar. I’m left grappling with the whirlwind of confusion. I sit back, the chair creaking under the shift of my weight, and the room suddenly feels claustrophobic.

I have no doubt there’s more to the story of my grandfather, and I know the answer is within reach. I just have to know where to look.

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