Page 105 of Cold Bastard
Garrote twisted my arm behind my back, the angle just shy of dislocation, and I felt my knees buckle from the pain. Scythe grabbed my other arm, mirroring the hold, and together they hauled me toward the church doors. “You’re making a mistake!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “She’ll shut down. She’ll fight you. She won’t give youshitif you do this!”
“Then she’ll watch you die,” Morpheus said, still not looking at me. “And then we’ll see how long her defiance lasts after that.”
The doors slammed open as they dragged me into the hallway. My boots scraped against the floor as I tried to dig in, tried to find purchase, but Garrote and Scythe were relentless. They moved like a machine, coordinated and efficient, hauling me toward the stairs that led down to the basement.
“No!” I twisted violently, managing to wrench one arm partially free, but Wanderer appeared from nowhere and slammed his fist into my kidney. Pain exploded through my side, stealing my breath, and I sagged between them.
“Stop fighting,” Garrote growled in my ear. “You’re only making this worse.”
“Fuck you,” I spat, but the words came out weak. Breathless as they dragged me down the stairs, my boots hitting each step with a dull thud that echoed through the narrow stairwell. The basement air hit me like a wall. Cold, damp, smelling of concrete and old blood. The single bare bulb overhead cast harsh shadowsacross the gray walls, and I saw the metal chairs waiting in the center of the room.
Two of them.
Oh fuck.
“Sit,” Scythe ordered, shoving me toward the nearest chair.
I fought. God, I fought. I twisted and kicked and threw my weight backward, but there were too many of them. Garrote, Scythe, Wanderer, Cobalt, they swarmed me, forcing me down into the chair with brutal efficiency. My wrists were yanked behind the backrest, and I felt the bite of rope as they began to tie me.
“You chose a thieving cunt over the Brotherhood,” Scythe hissed in my ear, and then I felt the cold press of a knife blade against my throat.
I went still. Not because of the knife. Not because of the threat.
But because he wasright.
The realization hit me like a freight train, stealing whatever fight I had left.
I chose Alex over my family. I chose her over the club. Over my brothers. Over everything I had sworn to protect when I patched in. I got attached. I fell in love with a woman who soothed the monster inside me, and I convinced myself that was enough. That if I could just control her, if I could just make her submit, I could have both. My club and the girl. The Brotherhood and the connection. But I had lost sight of the bigger picture. Without trust, I was no better than the men who had abused my mother. The men who had used her desperation against her. The men who had taken her need for connection and twisted it into something ugly and exploitative.
I had become the very monster I had been trying to fight all these years.
And now everyone was going to pay for it.
The ropes tightened around my wrists, cutting into my skin. My ankles were bound to the chair legs. And then Scythe shoved a gag into my mouth, tying it tight enough that I tasted blood.
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t warn her. Couldn’t do a goddamn thing except sit here and watch Morpheus destroy everything I cared about.
This is your fault,the voice in my head whispered.You did this. You chose her, and now she’s going to suffer for it.
The basement door opened again, and I heard shouting. Struggling. The sound of boots on the stairs. “Get your fucking hands off me!” The voice was unfamiliar but filled with rage. “I’m a Gods of Mayhem brother. You touch me and Zeus will declare war on your entire club!”
Poseidon.
They dragged him into view, Wanderer and Cobalt on either side, Vortex bringing up the rear. Poseidon was bigger than I had expected, built like a linebacker, with the same dark hair and sharp features as Alex. His cut bore the Gods of Mayhem patch, and his eyes blazed with fury as they forced him toward the second chair.
“You have no idea what you’re doing,” Poseidon snarled, fighting every step. “Zeus will burn this clubhouse to the ground when he finds out you kidnapped one of his brothers!”
Laughter erupted from the brothers surrounding us.
Harsh, mocking laughter that echoed off the concrete walls.
“Zeus?” Garrote repeated, grinning. “You think we’re scared of Zeus?”
“The Gods of Mayhem are nothing,” Scythe added, his knife still visible in his hand. “A second-tier club playing at being relevant.”
“Fuck you!” Poseidon spat, but they were already forcing him into the chair beside mine. He fought. God, he fought hard, butthere were too many of them. Within minutes, he was bound just as tightly as I was, ropes cutting into his wrists and ankles.
But they didn’t gag him.
