Page 67 of True Bastard
Why?
The word, barely a whisper, hovered in the air between us, heavy with a history of pain and unanswered questions. It was a question that demanded an answer, a truth I had longsuppressed, a truth that now lay exposed, raw and vulnerable, in the flickering lamplight.
I met her gaze, the fear in her turquoise eyes a stark reflection of my own internal turmoil. The walls I’d built around my heart—those meticulously constructed barriers of granite and steel—felt as though they were crumbling under the weight of her pain, of my own deeply buried emotions.
“Because,” I began, my voice a rough rasp, each word a struggle against the years of silence, against the ingrained habit of keeping everything locked away. “Because you deserve more than this. More than the life I’ve dragged you into. More than the darkness that clings to me like a shroud.”
My words felt inadequate, a pale shadow of the maelstrom churning within me. I wanted to offer her an escape, a future free from the shadows of the Brotherhood, but the reality of our world, the blood that bound us, made such promises hollow.
I was a Bastard, forged in fire and betrayal, and she, my kitten, was caught in the inferno.
I wanted to tell her that I loved her, that her fire, her defiance, had ignited something within me I thought long dead. But the confession felt like a betrayal of everything I was, everything I’d sworn to uphold. So, I offered the only truth I could articulate, a desperate plea disguised as a declaration. “And because I’m in love with you, Kyllian. And I can’t let you go.”
My words hung in the air, a terrifying admission, a gamble that could either shatter what little remained of us, or forge something new from the ashes of our shared pain. I waited, my breath held captive, for her reaction, for the verdict on the fate of my soul, and hers.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Kyllian
I blinked.
My breath hitched, a fragile sound swallowed by the oppressive silence.
Love?
The word, spoken by him, a man who embodied the very darkness I’d fought so desperately to escape, felt like a foreign tongue. It was a confession I’d never expected, a confession that both terrified and, in a way I couldn’t even begin to articulate, stirred something within me. The raw vulnerability in his eyes, a stark contrast to the usual predatory gleam, was a shock, an unexpected chink in his armor. He had claimed me, brutalized me—used me as a pawn in his club’s twisted games. And now, he claimed to love me.
The idea was almost laughable, a cruel jest in the face of the horrors I’d endured. Yet, as I looked at him, at the man who had shattered my world and simultaneously become the anchor I desperately clung to, I couldn’t dismiss it entirely. He was a paradox, a monster capable of tenderness, a betrayer who had somehow become my unlikely protector. The fire he’d spoken of, the one I’d ignited within him, now blazed in his eyes, not with anger, but with a raw, desperate plea. He had broken me, yes, but in doing so, he had also revealed a hidden part of himself. A part that, against all logic, I found myself drawn to.
I didn’t know what to say. The truth was, I was as lost as he was. The lines between hate and something else, something far more complicated, had blurred. He was my captor, my tormentor, and yet... he was also the one who had claimed me, the one whose touch, however brutal, had somehow awakened a forbidden desire.
For a moment, neither of us moved. The silence stretched out, thick and electric, as if the very air between us could ignite under the weight of his admission. I wanted to scream, to run, to demand answers that would never come, but all I could do was sit there and let the truth settle over us like ash. My heart hammered against my ribs, frantic and uncertain, as I tried to reconcile the man before me with the memories that haunted me. It felt impossible, but somewhere in the chaos, a fragile hope flickered to life, daring me to believe in the possibility of something more.
In that fractured space, I realized I wasn’t alone in my pain. We were both scarred, both searching for redemption in a world that refused to grant it. Maybe love wasn’t enough to heal what was broken between us, but as his gaze met mine, I understood that it was all either of us had left to offer.
He finally broke the silence, his voice a raw rasp that sliced through me. “I know I don’t deserve it. I know I’ve put you through hell. I’ve been a bastard. A monster. But I can’t let you go, Kyllian. You’re the only real thing I have left.”
His words were heavy with a truth I could no longer deny. He had shown me the darkness, the brutality, but he had also, in his own twisted way, revealed a sliver of humanity I hadn’t thought possible. The weight of his confession settled over me, not as a chain, but as a complex tapestry woven with shared pain and a dangerous, undeniable connection.
My own confession, the one I’d been holding captive within myself, felt less like a surrender and more like an acceptance.The fire he’d seen in me, the defiance that had been my shield, was still there, but it was now tempered by a strange, nascent hope. He hadn’t broken me; he had merely rearranged the pieces. And perhaps, just perhaps, in the wreckage of what we had become, we could build something new, something real, something that belonged solely to us, away from the shadows of the Brotherhood and the ghosts of our pasts. The journey ahead was uncertain, fraught with peril, but for the first time, the prospect didn’t feel like a death sentence, but a new beginning.
I took a shaky breath. The scent of him was no longer a suffocating shroud, but a familiar fragrance, a scent that now spoke of a strange, perilous belonging. “Firestride,” I began, his name feeling less like a claim and more like a shared truth.
“Joshua.”
“What?”
“My name is Joshua.”
His words, simple and yet profound, hung in the air, a fragile promise whispered in the quiet aftermath of a storm. And as his arms tightened around me, pulling me into the familiar, suffocating embrace that no longer felt like a prison, but a strange, unsettling sanctuary, I knew that our intertwined fates, however dangerous, were now inescapable as I whispered, “Joshua.”
A tentative peace settled between me and Firestride since his confession. For the rest of the night, I simply let myself exist in that tenuous peace, unsure of what came next but unwilling to break the delicate truce we’d forged. The world outside faded into insignificance; for once, the chaos and the cruelty I’d become accustomed to seemed distant, and I was unwillingto penetrate the bubble we’d created. Somewhere between heartbreak and hope, I felt the first stirrings of forgiveness—slow, tentative, but real. Maybe neither of us would ever be whole, but together, we could at least try to make sense of the pieces.
A hand landing on my shoulder had me looking up as Morpheus pulled out the chair next to me and sat. “How are you doing? Heard yesterday was a bad day.”
I shrugged. “I survived it.”
“Yeah, you did, Kitten. Knew you would.” The mountain man smirked as the front doors to the club opened and in walked a handsome stranger.
