Page 10 of True Bastard
“Something like that. Only she isn’t our typical collateral.”
“She’s a fucking bitch with a cunt. She’s collateral.”
“He raped her, Morpheus. I saw the bruises.”
Morpheus’ smile faded fast as my words sunk in. He knew Jessup’s reputation, the kind of slime that clung to him like a second skin. “Everyone has their vices, brother. You know that. Doesn’t make him a saint. Just another fucked-up asshole like the rest of us. So, what? You wanna play protector now?”
“She’s collateral, Morpheus,” I repeated, my voice hardening. “Jessup owes us, and she’s the only thing he’s left behind that’s worth anything. But she’s not just some piece of ass to be passed around. She’s got a fire in her, a defiance that reminds me of you. She’s not going to break easily. She’s going to fight back. And that could prove useful.” I took another swig of whiskey, the burn a familiar comfort. “I want her. Not to break her, but to make Jessup break. She’s the key to unlocking his weakness, and I want to use her.”
Morpheus stared at me for a long moment, his eyes assessing, calculating. He’d always been the brains behind the brawn of the Brotherhood. He saw the angles, the opportunities, the ways to leverage even the most desperate situations. His slow smile returned, wider this time. “Alright, go get the bitch. But tread carefully. If this kitten bites too hard, don’t come crying to me.”
Chapter Six
Kyllian
“I appreciate this so much, Keely,” I said as she stepped back and yawned, exhaustion clinging to her like a shroud. “No problem. Sleep’s overrated anyway.”
Shutting the door, she trudged past me, and I followed, a knot of unease tightening in my gut. The second the biker left, I ran upstairs, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs. I packed a small bag, my hands shaking as I shoved clothes in, the unspoken threat of his presence a tangible weight.Run, girl. Run.The thought screamed in my head, an overwhelming urge to escape. I had no fucking clue what Jessup was mixed up in, but the thought of being anyone’s collateral, of being used, of having my life dictated by some stranger’s dangerous dealings, didn’t sit well with me. It went against everything I believed—the independence I’d fought so hard to carve out for myself. But even as I fled, a colder, more insidious fear gnawed at me: what if I was already too involved? What if the biker’s attention, now fixed on me, couldn’t be so easily shrugged off?
“Power out again?” Keely asked, her voice thick with sleep as she flipped the lights on in her small kitchen. A weak yellow glow sputtered to life, doing little to dispel the gloom. I groaned internally and nodded. The mundane reality of my power being out felt like a cruel joke, an afterthought, considering the night’s events.
“I only need to stay the night,” I rasped, my throat dry. “I’m leaving on the first bus out of here.” My words felt like a betrayal, a white flag of surrender to the very life I’d tried to outrun.
Pulling out a chair, Keely sat, her expression etched with concern. “And go where?”
“Home.”
“Back to Alabama?” Keely’s eyes widened in shock, her disbelief evident. “We promised we would never go back there.”
Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken history. It was the thing we had in common... Alabama.
The word itself tasted like retreat. It represented everything I’d fled—a suffocating small town, a family that had fractured and broken, a past I’d desperately tried to bury. Going back felt like a concession, an acceptance of failure. But as the reality of my situation slammed into me, the desperate need for sanctuary, for a place where I wasn’t constantly looking over my shoulder, began to override my fierce independence.
Could I really afford to hold on to my pride when my safety was at stake? Was it stronger to face the ghosts of my past than to remain a target in this present danger?
My choice felt impossible, a cruel bind where neither option offered solace. Going back home meant confronting the pain I’d escaped, the people who had hurt me. Staying here, however, meant potentially drawing Jessup deeper into my life, and the very thought of that made my stomach churn with the terrifying realization that I was already making a bad choice, no matter what I did.
“I don’t have a choice, Keely. After what happened with Jessup, and then that biker showing up... this place isn’t safe anymore. I need to get away from all of it.” My voice cracked on the last word, exhaustion and fear finally catching up to me.
Alabama, the place I’d spent years trying to escape, suddenly felt like the only sanctuary left. It was a bitter pill to swallow,admitting defeat and returning to a life I’d fought so hard to leave behind, but the threat of being used as collateral by a man like the biker, a man who exuded danger like a second skin, was far too real.
Keely’s expression softened, the usual playful sarcasm replaced by a genuine concern. “Kyllian, you don’t have to do that. We’ll figure something out. You can stay here for as long as you need. And I’m sure I can find you a job somewhere that doesn’t involve kitten ears and lecherous old men.” She reached across the table, her hand covering mine. That small gesture of solidarity meant more than words could say.
“I don’t want to be a burden, Keely,” I whispered, my eyes stinging. “Besides, what if that biker comes back? What if he thinks I’m still there? I can’t risk you getting caught up in my mess.”
The image of his hard, unreadable face, his predatory smile, flashed in my mind. He was a wolf in leather, and I was a lamb who had somehow wandered into his den. And now, he’d declared me his collateral. The thought was terrifying, but also... strangely compelling.
Getting up from the table, Keely yawned. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed. It’s too damn early to decide anything.”
I nodded, too numb to argue, and followed Keely to her guest room. It was small and sparsely furnished, but clean and quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos that had become my life. As I lay down on the narrow bed, the unfamiliar softness of the mattress a luxury I hadn’t experienced in what felt like a lifetime, my mind raced. The biker’s words echoed in my head.“You owe me, Kitten. And right now, you’re all I’ve got.”
Collateral.
I knew what the word meant.
It meant I wasn’t free.
It meant I was property, a bargaining chip in some dangerous game I didn’t understand. I was well-versed in the knowledge of what property meant. My whole life I’d heard that word.Property. Like my mother and sister, we were never given a chance to be our own. Born into a world where hard, cruel men ruled, I learned quickly that just because I was the daughter of someone important, didn’t mean I was safe.
