Page 59 of Massacre
“Your real fucking name.”
I frowned, then gave him my birth name. “Bethany.”
He growled and took a menacing step forward, forcing me back against the wall.
“Don’t fucking lie to me again.” The mountain man’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, I thought he might strike me. I stood my ground, refusing to cower, though every instinct screamed at me to run. The air crackled with tension, and the crowd seemed to hold their breath as they all waited for my answer.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Amber
I didn’t know what he wanted me to say. I told him the truth. Harold called me Bethany. It was on my birth certificate. The only other name I had was Amber, given to me by Sypher after he and Val gave me a new identity.
Maybe that was what he wanted to know?
The name Val gave me when I was born. But she wouldn’t have named me. Would she? I was taken shortly after my birth. According to Kytten, she never even got to hold me.
Gulping, I muttered, “I was adopted. The only name I know is the one my adoptive parents gave me—Bethany. My birth parents never got the chance to name me.”
“Yes I did,” her firm voice said from behind the large man. “Why don’t you fucking ask me and leave my daughter alone, Morpheus?”
A feral grin split his grizzled face as he slowly, deliberately turned toward my mother. Each vertebra seemed to click into place as he straightened, his shoulders broadening, a coiled spring of raw, untamed power. The air itself crackled with a sudden, chilling tension, the silence heavy with the unspoken threat hanging between them; a silent promise of violence whispered in the wind. His eyes, chips of flint, glinted and burned dark, sending a shiver of icy dread down my spine.
“Well, if it isn’t the fucking bitch herself,” he growled as he closed in on her, his voice a low rumble like thunder in the distance. His steps were heavy, echoing off the walls as he approached. When he reached her, his hand snaked out,gripping her neck with a vise-like grip, his anger evident in the way his fingers dug into her skin as he boiled with rage. “Give me one fucking reason not to snap your fucking neck, cunt.”
My mother stood there, glaring at the large man, fury emanating from every pore as she seethed, “Go ahead, you son of a bitch. And I will take you straight to hell with me.”
And that’s when I heard the click of a gun.
The clubhouse erupted with the sound of weapons being drawn. The click of guns being cocked filled the air as every brother aimed at Val. Despite the danger, she remained unfazed. With her words, she had already made her mark. Morpheus’ anger was palpable as he tightened his grip around her neck. The tension was tangible, and the sound of veins pulsating was almost deafening. His knuckles turned white with rage as he applied more pressure.
For a moment, no one breathed.
The silence was deafening, a static charge thrumming through the room as if the air itself was about to split open. For a heartbeat, the world felt suspended—no sound but the creak of leather and the ragged breaths of men poised on the edge of violence. Morpheus’ eyes, wild and rimmed with red, flashed between Val and the assembled threats, calculation flickering in their depths.
“What the fuck is she doing here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Meredith.”
At that, I spoke up. “She’s telling the truth. She doesn’t know. I didn’t tell anyone. I just left.”
Refusing to move, the large man asked, his eyes never leaving my mother’s. “Why?”
Walking over to him, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the patch Massacre gave me and handed it to him. The second he saw what I had in my hand, he closed his eyes and let out adeep breath as his hand fell away from my mother’s neck. When he opened his eyes again, he reached for Massacre’s patch and asked, “Where did you get this patch?”
“It was given to me.”
“By whom?”
“Massacre.”
“GOD DAMN IT!” the man roared as he stormed out of the room.
Val grabbed my arm and glared. “He said he gave you his patch.”
“He did. That one.”
