Page 85 of True Bastard
Pulling into the compound, I cut my engine as Kyllian jumped off my bike. Morpheus stopped beside me, already dismounting as he reached for his machete. The silence told us what we already knew. They had already been here and were gone, taking what they wanted.
The clubhouse doors lay wide open, a deathly welcome, inviting us in to see the carnage those sick fucks left behind.
We entered the clubhouse cautiously; bodies littered the floor. Broken glass glinted in the moonlight that spilled through the shattered windows, and overturned chairs bore silent witness to the chaos left in their wake. Lying across the bar in his own blood was Jester, with a bullet to his head.
Xzibit sat on the floor, holding a club whore in his arms, her eyes vacant, her life already drained. In the corner, Lollie rocked herself as silent tears streamed down her face, her body covered in blood, naked as she held a knife in her hand, her eyes on the dead Death Dog beside her.
The backdoor opened, and heavy footsteps thundered toward us.
“Dagger’s gone,” Wanderer stated as he and Carver entered the main room to survey the damage.
“Where is Cerberus?” Morpheus asked, looking around the clubhouse. When no one spoke up, Morpheus roared, “CERBERUS!”
The stench of gunpowder and spilled whiskey hung thick in the air, mingling with the sorrow that gripped every survivor in the room. I scanned the carnage, my fists clenched, rage and helplessness warring inside me. Somehow, in all theviolence, our creed felt both hollow and sacred—vengeance was inevitable, but the cost was more than any of us could have imagined. Kyllian moved to comfort Lollie, her touch gentle, but her eyes burning with the same resolve I felt.
Morpheus cleared a path through the chaos, every movement deliberate as he searched for his best friend.
We were battered but not broken. Tonight, the Brotherhood would remember, and we would make sure the rest of the world did, too.
Garrote stumbled into the room, holding his stomach, trying to stem the flow of blood as he fell to his knees. “They took Zephyr.”
Rushing to him, Wanderer and I helped him to a chair.
“How many, brother?”
“Too many.” Garrote grimaced as Carver moved his hand to check the damage.
“Inferno and Karter are gone,” Morpheus seethed as he stormed back into the room. Grabbing Garrote, he hauled him to his feet and snarled. “Where the fuck is Cerberus?”
Garrote sputtered, “He wasn’t here. He took Alice home.”
The roar of Morpheus’ fury was a chilling sound that echoed the emptiness where Cerberus should have been.
Inferno and Karter were gone.
Those words were a brutal hammer blow, shattering the fragile peace I’d clung to. I watched Morpheus, a titan brought low, his usual iron grip faltering as he reeled from Cerberus’ failure. He was a Bastard, a monster, but he was also family. And now, our family was being ripped apart. My pain, the deep-seated ache of betrayal and violation, paled in comparison to the raw agony that contorted Morpheus’ face. I knew with a certainty that settled like a shroud that Skinner would pay. This war, ignited by his greed and cruelty, was far from over, and with Zephyr taken, and Inferno and Karter gone, the Brotherhoodfelt hollowed out, a shell of its former self. The laughter and camaraderie of the night before felt like a distant memory, replaced by a grim, suffocating reality.
I looked at my woman, her face etched with a grief that mirrored my own. She had seen the worst of us, had been caught in the crossfire of our war, and yet, she remained resolute as tears streamed down her beautiful face.
The silence hung heavy, broken only by Garrote’s ragged breathing and the distant wail of sirens outside. Nobody spoke, each of us haunted by our own losses and the question of what came next. I looked around at the faces that remained—faces marked by blood, fear, and the stubborn refusal to yield.
As the first light of dawn began to seep through shattered windows, it cast long shadows over the battered room. Every member of the Brotherhood understood: this night had changed everything.
There would be no forgiveness, no mercy.
The Brotherhood would teach the Biker Federation the true meaning of a life for a life, and it would be a lesson they would never forget.
Epilogue
Kyllian
In the days that followed, a dark cloud fell over the Brotherhood. Morpheus retreated into his office, drinking himself into oblivion, refusing to see anyone. Not even Lollie could coax him out of his misery. When Cerberus finally returned to the clubhouse, it took all the brothers to stop Morpheus from killing his best friend. Even then, the second Cerberus heard that Inferno and his daughter Karter were gone, Cerberus flew into a rage and took off, no doubt blaming himself for not being here. As for Firestride, myself, and the rest of the brothers, it was up to us to pick up the pieces and move on.
In the end, seventeen Death Dogs and three Bastards lost their lives, including one club whore. The sheriff of Deadwood wasn’t fucking happy, but thanks to Nano’s quick thinking and a hefty donation to the Sheriff’s Widow Fund, the sheriff agreed to turn the other cheek.
“How are you holding up, honey?” Alice asked as we sat in the main room of the clubhouse while brothers milled around, saying little.
“About as well as to be expected. The funerals were held yesterday. It was hard. I can’t believe Inferno and Karter are gone. She should have been safe here. My aunt Karen said so.”
