Page 74 of Massacre
I glanced at Massacre, hoping for answers, but he just sat there with machines hooked up to him, his jaw clenched tight as he gripped the phone close to his ear. The silence prickled, heavy and tense. I needed him to elaborate. To say something more. Anything to explain what he meant.
My hands trembled as he pressed the phone closer, desperate for reassurance. “Massacre,” I whispered, my voice barely above the hush. His eyes flicked up, haunted and furious, as he reached out for me. I didn’t think as I rushed over to him, sitting beside him on the bed as he spoke into the phone.
“It doesn’t matter how, Torment. What matters is that Morpheus never lets an old score go unpaid. If he’s calling in a ‘life for a life,’ Bane’s as good as dead unless you do something now. Trust me. I know Morpheus. Just be careful. Yeah. Keep me posted. Not like I can go anywhere,” he groaned, ending the call and throwing the cordless phone on the bed before he looked at me.
“Baby, I’m so sorry for how I spoke to you.”
Shaking my head, I said, “I’ll yell at you later about that. Right now, I need you to explain that phone call because I’m freaking out, Massacre.”
“I’m not sure what I should tell you.”
I narrowed my eyes and glared. “Don’t do that, Massacre. Don’t treat me like some fragile woman who can’t handle shit. For years everyone has lied to me, kept me hidden in the dark like I was some dirty little secret, and I’m tired of it. If it involves me, I have the right to know.”
Massacre sighed. His eyes flicked to the machines hooked up to him, as if seeking an escape from this conversation. “It’s complicated, baby. This‘life for a life’business is Morpheus’ way of settling scores. The Brotherhood never forgets a debt, and they never show mercy.”
I bit my lip, my heart still pounding. “So, what do they want with my dad? Am I in danger?”
Massacre’s gaze softened as he took my hand. “No, baby, you’re safe. This has nothing to do with you. It’s an old grudge between Bane and Morpheus, something Bane’s dad did a long time ago. I should’ve known better. Morpheus never forgets.”
“Gonna need more than that, Massacre, and this time, make sense.”
“There is a reason clubs stay the hell away from the Brotherhood of Bastards. They aren’t like other clubs, baby. They are ruthless, violent, and deadly. They don’t give a fuck about rules, and they sure as hell don’t respect anyone. They live their lives as they want and kill anyone who tries to stop them. They are outlaws, plain and simple.”
Massacre’s words sent a chill down my spine. I knew from my short time with the Brotherhood of Bastards that they were a force to be reckoned with, and the fact that my father was entangled in their web of vengeance had me on edge. I knew Massacre was right; Morpheus was not one to let bygonesbe bygones. A debt was a debt, and it seemed my father had incurred a deadly one. “What did my father do to incur Morpheus’ wrath?” I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the turmoil within me.
Massacre hesitated, his gaze flicking to the machines as if they held the answers he sought. “It’s not your father’s debt. Not directly, anyway. It’s about his old man, your grandfather. He crossed Morpheus years ago, and now the debt has come due.”
I felt a surge of anger mixed with fear. “My grandfather? Is he even alive?”
“I don’t know, baby.” Massacre’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with a pained memory. “Either way, it doesn’t matter because Morpheus doesn’t differentiate between the living and the dead when it comes to vengeance. If he can’t get to your grandfather, he’ll go after the next best thing—your father.”
The truth twisted bitterly inside me, thickening the air between us. I squeezed Massacre’s hand, trying to ground myself, but my mind churned with questions.
“Is that why you got hurt?” My voice trembled, just a fraction, but I hated it. “Did the Brotherhood do this to you because of me? Because of my family?”
He shook his head, a faint, strained smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “No, baby. What happened to me had nothing to do with the Brotherhood. My time in the Bratva caught up with me. Had I known shit would turn out like this, I would have never sent you to the Brotherhood. My patch was meant to protect you. Not to cause more trouble. I am really sorry about that.”
“Hold up. What do you mean, protect me?” I asked, remembering the way Morpheus and Val reacted when they saw the patch. “Because when I showed Morpheus your patch, he wasn’t very happy to see it. In fact, he was pissed.”
Massacre smirked. “Yeah, I figured he might be, but I knew he would protect you.”
“And yet, you sent me there anyway. Why?”
“I don’t wanna say,” he whispered, looking away from me as my mind swirled with everything I knew about the Bratva, which wasn’t much, but I could imagine. Then there was the way everyone reacted when they learned this Russian guy was after him, and then King and Reaper threw him back in the cell to stop him from confronting the guy. Slowly getting up from the bed, Massacre grumbled as he leaned back against the pillows. His eyes never met mine as goosebumps rose over my flesh.
“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”
He flinched.
“You lied to me! You knew you weren’t coming back. You confronted that Russian knowing he was going to kill you!”
Still, he stayed quiet.
“You sent me to the Brotherhood because you fucking knew no one would challenge them. Your patch was my way in. You knew Morpheus would honor the code. Everyone told me, even King, that your patch meant more than protection. It does, doesn’t it?”
Massacre nodded.
A heavy silence stretched between us, thick with everything unspoken. My breath caught as the gravity of it all settled in, colder than the bite of winter air.
