Page 46 of True Bastard
“That’s the Gods of Mayhem, Morpheus.” Cerberus stiffened. “We have nothing to do with them. The treaty your uncle Kalden and Kronos signed is still in effect. We go anywhere near Texas, it’s war.”
The treaty was ancient history, a relic of a time when alliances were forged in blood and shattered by betrayal. ButTexas... that was a whole other world, a dangerous territory where the Brotherhood of Bastards had no business venturing. Cerberus’ stiffening was a testament to the gravity of the situation. Kronos, the former president of the Gods of Mayhem, had been Kalden’s fiercest rival, their animosity a legend whispered in hushed tones.
Any transgression against that treaty was a declaration of war.
Sinclair, that cunning wildcard, operated beyond the lines, outside any trusted affiliation. If he was involved in hiding the daughter of the Gods of Mayhem, then he was playing a game far more dangerous than I had ever imagined.
?This wasn’t about club turf anymore; this was about power, about alliances that could rewrite the entire Biker Federation, and if my sister was somehow entangled in this... then this had just become a war I couldn’t afford to lose.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kyllian
Days blended into another and by the fourth day, I couldn’t stand being cooped up any longer. The search for the intruder, the man the RCPD believed was the killer they were looking for, had come to a dead end. Whoever killed Kaycee, her husband Jake, and Keely was long gone, and yet, the RCPD still insisted that a squad car watch vigil over the farmhouse. Aunt Karen and her husband, Robert O’Callaghan, took everything in stride, although they were deeply mourning the loss of their daughter, son-in-law, and niece. Because of the media attention, they decided to forgo a funeral and have their bodies cremated and planned for a ‘Day in the Life’ ceremony once it was safe.
We found solace in routine, though every shadow seemed to hold a threat and every ring of the phone set nerves on edge. The air inside the farmhouse grew heavier with each passing hour, the silence punctuated only by Karen’s quiet weeping and Robert’s attempts to maintain a façade of strength. Even the fields outside felt different, as if the land itself mourned the tragedy that had unfolded. Despite the constant presence of law enforcement, a sense of vulnerability lingered, reminding us that safety was a fragile illusion.
Still, through all the tears, worries, and silence, I couldn’t get him out of my head. When I closed my eyes at night, he wasthere, in my dreams, whispering to me, touching me, consuming me.
Firestride.
His name echoed in my heart with every pulse, a phantom sensation that lingered long after sleep had fled. Each morning, I awoke tangled in sheets, haunted by the memory of his touch and the intensity of the connection we shared, even if only in dreams. I couldn’t tell if it was longing or dread that kept me tethered to his memory, but I knew that nothing would ever be the same now that I’d let him in, even if only in the shadows of my mind.
The farmhouse, once a sanctuary, had become a prison of a different kind. The police presence was constant, a stark reminder of the violence that had shattered our lives, yet they offered little true protection. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of wind outside, sent a fresh wave of panic through me.
Firestride’s name was now a constant whisper in my mind, a dangerous mirage that haunted my waking hours and infiltrated my dreams. The memory of his touch, the possessive glint in his eyes, was a torment I couldn’t escape, a brutal reminder of the power he held over me. I longed for freedom, for a life untouched by the darkness that clung to me, but the shadows of the Brotherhood of Bastards, and Firestride’s claims, stretched long and menacingly, threatening to consume me entirely.
I paced the rooms of the farmhouse, a caged animal desperate for an escape. Aunt Karen’s gentle attempts to comfort me were met with a hollow gaze, her words of solace a balm that couldn’t penetrate the thick armor of my fear and a burgeoning, dangerous curiosity. The biker who had spoken to me at Frankie’s Diner, the one with the kind eyes, had offered a sliver of hope, a promise of a safe haven. But even that felt precarious, a fragile barrier against the storm that was gatheringon the horizon. The Death Dogs were on the move, and word of Jessup’s demise had surely spread.
I was a loose end, a liability, and in this world, loose ends were tied up, permanently. The scent of him, once a symbol of Firestride’s dominance, now felt like a whisper of his presence, a constant reminder that I was never truly alone, never truly free.
A muffled thud from outside the farmhouse sent a jolt of adrenaline through me. The RCPD officers stationed outside were always vigilant, their presence a constant, albeit ineffective, deterrent.
But this sound was different.
It was furtive, deliberate, a sound that spoke of intrusion, not of official duty.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of dread.
Was it him? Had Firestride found me? Or was it something else, something far more sinister, lurking in the shadows?
I crept to the window, peering out into the dim twilight, the silhouette of the farmhouse standing stark against the darkening sky. On the lawn lay one of the officers, not moving. My breath hitched, a cold dread blooming in my chest, as Aunt Karen rushed into the room with little Karter in her arms, her face a mask of pure terror.
Thrusting the whimpering child at me, Aunt Karen’s voice cracked, a frantic plea. “Take Karter and run.”
“What?” I gasped, fumbling to cradle the little girl who burrowed into my chest, her soft cries bringing forth a fresh stab of guilt. She only wanted her grandmother, the woman I was now being forced to abandon.
“He’s...” Aunt Karen choked back a sob.
“Who is here?” My voice was a raw whisper, fear clawing at my throat.
“The killer. He’s already killed the officers and is looking for a way in. Robert has locked down the house, but I need you to take Karter to her father. Take her to the Brotherhood. Ask for Inferno. He will protect you both.”
Shaking my head, my eyes wide with a desperate refusal, I felt a wave of nausea.
Go back there?
To the Brotherhood? To the place that had broken me, that held the ghosts of every mistake I’d ever made? The place I’d sworn I’d never set foot in again, where my shame still lingered? Not after everything that happened. I wouldn’t. My entire being screamed against it. It felt like a betrayal of the self I’d fought so hard to rebuild, a surrender to the darkness I’d escaped.
