Page 74 of True Bastard
“It was a long fucking ride, brother.”
“Luc, meet Kyllian Ward. Firestride’s woman and the first old lady of the Brotherhood,” Morpheus introduced, and the Disturbed president smiled warmly at me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the young man standing behind him. Seeing my attention was elsewhere, Luc turned around as Morpheus growled, and Firestride moved to step in front of me.
“KROD!” Luc roared. “Stop gawking and go gather the goddamn bags. Trash, make sure the pleb does what he’s told.” Turning back around, Luc groaned. “Fucking newbies. They see a pretty face and their brains drop to their dicks. He’s harmless, ma’am, but if it makes you feel better, I will make sure he steers clear of you during our stay.”
“No,” I muttered, focusing on the president of Disturbed. “It’s fine,” I lied, not wanting to cause any more trouble. “It was my mistake. Déjà vu and all that crap.”
Luc chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through the air. “Déjà vu, huh? Well, some people aren’t worth remembering.” He glanced at the young man, KROD, who was still watching me with an unsettling intensity, before turning back to me. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just a pleb still learning the ropes. Trash will keep him in line.” He then turned to Morpheus. “I hope you got food, man. I’m fucking starving.”
Morpheus merely grunted, his gaze still fixed on me, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken threat hanging in the air. Firestride, sensing the shift in atmosphere, moved closer, his arm casually draping around my waist, a possessive gesturethat spoke volumes. I felt his gaze on me, a silent question, but I slowly shook my head. Disturbed was an ally club, and I would not be responsible for severing that tie. Smiling warmly, I simply said, “Food will be ready in an hour. The bar is stocked and the entertainment will arrive shortly. That should give you gentlemen enough time to get business out of the way.”
“Good enough for me,” Morpheus grunted, heading into the clubhouse with Luc next to him. As the rest of Disturbed followed, only myself, Firestride, and Wanderer remained.
“What is it, Kitten?” Wanderer asked.
Shaking my head, I muttered, “It’s nothing. I thought he reminded me of someone I once knew, but that’s impossible. Disturbed is composed entirely of former military personnel. There’s no way.”
“No way for what, baby?”
Placing my hand on Firestride’s chest, I smiled up at him. “It’s nothing. I promise. I must be more nervous than I thought.” He seemed to sense my unease, hear the tremor in my voice, the fear etched onto my face. But I couldn’t explain. How could I tell him that the man named KROD reminded me of a life I’d tried so hard to forget? It was impossible, a cruel twist of fate, but the resemblance was uncanny, a phantom from my past resurrected in this present. “I need to get back inside. Alice is probably ready to commit murder. Say what you want about your brother, but Cerberus is taking his own life into his hands if he doesn’t stop leering at my friend.”
Wanderer chuckled. “Old fucker knows what he wants.”
“Yeah, well, he needs to look elsewhere. You bastards promised, and I aim to hold you to that promise.”
“Fine,” Wanderer groaned as he headed inside the club. “I’ll go corral the fucking horny bastard.”
Cupping my face, Firestride tilted my head until my eyes locked on his. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“I’m sure.”
Alice Munro was a godsend. Not only could the woman cook, but she had no problem standing up to any of the brothers, including Morpheus, who earned himself a snap of a hand towel to his ass when he tried to sneak a potato chip. Though I think it was more shock than anything else, because no one else had the balls to challenge him. As for Cerberus, Wanderer kept his word and babysat the large fucker everywhere he went. When Wanderer tried to follow the grumpy bastard into the bathroom, well, Wanderer found himself with a bloodied nose, and Cerberus ended up locked in the bathroom until Alice shouted, “Food’s done!” then the fucker literally broke down the door. Apparently, Cerberus knew how good Alice’s cooking was and refused to be denied. Through all the shoving, pushing, threats and shenanigans, both clubs were finally sitting and eating their weight in food as if it were their last meal.
The noise, the sheer unruliness of it all, was a familiar symphony of chaos, one I’d grown up with, lived with. And yet, tonight, it felt different. I’d always prided myself on my ability to distance myself from the fray, to be the calm eye in the storm. But looking at Morpheus, a glint of something almost like amusement in his eyes as he watched Cerberus demolish a plate of ribs, a wave of belonging washed over me. Was I truly one of them, or were they just better at pretending than I was? The thought was a bitter pill. But seeing them so utterly consumed by simple pleasure, by Alice’s phenomenal cooking, made me question the very foundation of the Brotherhood of Bastards. Were they really the hardened biker club the world thought them to be, or were they just misunderstood?
“Girl, I don’t know how you handle them, but I’m tearing off the largest willow switch I can find and gifting it to you. Honey, you’re gonna need it,” the woman huffed as she plopped her ass down next to me.
I threw my head back and roared with laughter. “I’d need the whole damn tree to corral these bastards.”
Alice rolled her eyes. “Oh please. I grew up on a cattle ranch with four older brothers. This is nothing. I’d give anything to see just one of these men wrangle a steer or ride a horse from sunup to sundown. They’d all be crying for their mommas within an hour.”
“Just say the word, Sugartits, and you can ride my horse anytime.” Cerberus winked suggestively as he grabbed his crotch and wiggled his eyebrows, only for Wanderer to slap him upside the head before Cerberus tackled him to the ground.
Watching as the two grown-ass men rolled around in the grass, Alice chuckled when Wanderer’s knee got a smidge too close to Cerberus’ dick and caused the big lug to grunt and cup his junk.
“They’re children. Over-grown, feral children.”
I simply nodded in agreement, my gaze remaining fixed on the swirling mass of bodies. I knew all about clubs and how these gatherings went. I’d seen enough of them to last me a lifetime, and while it seemed the Brotherhood had some vague moral compass they adhered to, I realized they were better than the Satan’s Angels or the Death Dogs, who didn’t give a fuck about anything or anyone. That was a truth I clung to, a tiny shard of justification for staying, for not running.
As a few of the brothers from Disturbed jumped into the fray to help Wanderer, Morpheus shoved his way through the crowd, balancing a precarious tray of cornbread like it was a trophy. “Don’t let Cerberus near this, or he’ll inhale the whole thing!” he barked, earning a chorus of groans and teasing threats, rightbefore he turned and slammed his fist into Cerberus’ face. It was brutal, unnecessary, and a part of me recoiled. I’d seen too much violence, too much senseless aggression. But the sight of Morpheus, his usual gruff demeanor softened by the effort of protecting his precious cargo, and the quick, almost playful retort from Cerberus, the sting of the blow clearly not as deep as the camaraderie it ignited, made my stomach take flight.
The sense of camaraderie, wild energy, and sheer chaos that filled the club was oddly comforting, a reminder that even in the midst of madness, this strange family could always count on each other. Alice gave me a conspiratorial grin, clearly in her element amid the disorder, and for a moment, I felt as if I belonged exactly where I was meant to be. It was a dangerous illusion, a seductive lie. Because belonging here meant accepting the Brotherhood completely, blood, guts, warts and all. It meant silencing the part of me that remembered a different life, a cleaner path. It meant turning my back on everything I had fought to protect myself from. And in that flicker of imagined belonging, I knew I had already made a choice.
“Kitten.”
Looking up as Heretic walked over with a young girl, a knot of apprehension tightened in my gut. Confused, I stood and plastered a smile on my face. “And who is this?” I asked, my question sounding far too casual, too welcoming for the wariness within me. The young woman next to Heretic fidgeted with her fingers, her cautious gaze darting around at the boisterous men. She was undeniably a stunningly beautiful mixed-race woman, her captivating green eyes holding a depth I couldn’t quite decipher. Like Heretic, she possessed silky, jet-black hair that framed her delicate face.
But it was the look in her eyes, that flicker of fear beneath the surface, that snagged at my conscience. It mirrored something I fought to keep buried deep, a ghost of my own past vulnerability.As my eyes trailed back to Heretic, who had brought her here, to this den of wolves, an anger akin to wildfire spread through me.
