Chapter 1

Kracken

Memories assault me of the day we found Belle and Moira in that battered and derelict structure. I called Jingles and when he asked me if everything was okay, I said, "No, it's not, need you to haul ass down to the infirmary, while I call Brick. I found one of the girls."

While I waited, I scoured the room for something, anything, to help the broken woman I found lying limp and lifeless on the threadbare bed.

Moira.

Belle's best friend.

"Please be okay," my mind whispered.

"What did you find, Brother?" Jingles asked as he walked toward where I was crouched next to a hospital-style bed.

I know my face has a horrified look on it, but I can't help it as I clutch her still, chilled hand. "Moira. I found Moira."

I wake up with a heaving gasp, sweat covering my body as I run my hands across my face. That day plays on repeat in my head; finding her lying non-responsive on a hospital style bed which was more like a ratty cot. The wounds, the stench of infection, the absolute blankness of her even though I know she had to feel what I was doing to try and clean her up while we waited on Angel. She was in such bad shape, I honestly thought she was dead when I first located her. Despite Angel healing her physically, she was still lost to all of us, even Belle. It was as if she had mentally locked herself away, and I worried that she might never find her way back.

Standing, I strip the bed since the sheets are soaked through with perspiration and roll them into a ball, throwing them into the corner by the door so I can wash them later. Or, more accurately, get one of the club girls to take care of it and the rest of my laundry. Glancing at my alarm clock, I groan when I see it's barely four in the morning. Fuck, it's gonna be a long-ass day. Might as well get it started. Trudging to my bathroom, I give thanks in my head at least that Brick made sure all the rooms had their own bathrooms attached, since I'd piss off my brothers hauling my ass through the clubhouse to grab a shower this early of an hour. We do have some communal bathrooms with shower stalls, but those are typically used by the prospects.

I turn the water on and while I wait for it to heat, I brush my teeth, my mind wandering to the petite brunette who has consumed every thought since we found her. After I rinse out my mouth, I step into my shower and almost groan in relief as the warm water sluices down my shoulders. I prefer hotter water, but ever since we began to search for the girls, my eczema has been in a flare, something that I know will likely continue until we find the fundamentalist fuckers and end them. Or, when Moira comes back to the land of the living. I've continued most of the things the doctor told me to do, like using a gentle soap, and making sure I keep my skin moisturized, but with this exacerbation, I know I'll have to pull out the prescription shit. A-fuckin-gain.

Memories assault me of elementary school.

"I wish you guys weren't home sick," I whispered to my reflection in the mirror in the boys' bathroom.

Because we were ‘club kids', we stuck together through thick and thin, but I liked to think it would've happened anyhow, since we liked the same stuff. They didn't care that I sometimes got scaly, patchy skin that was itchy as all get out. They'd just pull out a bottle of lotion and hand it to me to use, or if it was on my back, one of them would apply it on me. That's just what brothers did, blood related or not, it's what we saw modeled by our fathers every single day. It wasn't a big deal, at least not to them.

But in school? The older kids made my life a living hell whenever my friends weren't around and today was unlikely to be an exception. I heard the door slam open, then saw Arthur, Ben, Asher, and Tommy walk in, only to stop when they saw me. Tommy blocked the door as the other three stalked closer, towering over me, seeing as I was only five and still short, while they were in the fourth grade and already showing signs of being taller than me.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't one of the biker trash kids," Arthur sneered, moving closer and shoving me in the shoulder, causing me to hit the tiled wall.

I barely held in my wince, knowing if I showed any sign of weakness, it would make it worse for me. "What do you want?" I asked, trying to use my toughest, deepest voice.

I was surrounded by some of the best men I knew; RiffRaff, Ace, my dad, and they all talked tough. They were used to being ignored and browbeaten by most of society who didn't understand the biker lifestyle. If not for the fact that the only women around, outside of Lorelai, Ban's mother, were club whores, they probably would've homeschooled us, but since Brick's grandparents were elderly and they were the only ‘normal' influences we had, we went to public school and kept to ourselves.

"Oh, look! The dragon-boy speaks," Ben retorted. "Can you breathe fire, dragon-boy?"

I hated all the spiteful names they used against me, they were demeaning and downright hurtful. Still, I chose to remain silent against their taunting and bullying.

"He doesn't have a tail, don't dragons have tails?" Asher asked.

"Well, he's definitely not normal with that scaly skin," Tommy pointed out from his position at the door.

"Hmm, Loch Ness Monster?" Arthur mused.

"No, I think they're smooth, they don't have scales," Ben stated.

"What's the name of that monster that comes out of the ocean we learned about in Greek mythology Mrs. Jaminez forced down our throats in history class?" Tommy questioned. With a gleeful look on his face, he snaps his fingers and shoots me a venomous sneer. "I know, a kraken, right?"

"Yeah, that's what we're calling you from now on. Kracken," Arthur decreed.

I remained silent, knowing that if I uttered a word, I'd only invite more abuse from them. I still wasn't out of the woods, but if I could survive their abuse a few minutes longer, someone else was bound to come in and I'd be safe once again.

"Oh, I like it, Arthur," Asher stated. "Now, he'll fit in with his buddies, Banshee and Brick. Just a bunch of fucked-up assholes, all of them."

"Don't talk about my friends like that," I muttered, clenching my closed fists at my sides. "You don't have that right."

"Lookie, the pipsqueak known as Kracken speaks," Ben said. "Let's show him what happens when he chooses to speak."

The beating I took left me curled up on the floor of the boys' bathroom in the handicapped stall. Mr. DeSoto found me when he came in to make sure no one was in there smoking and my dad, along with all his brothers, came to get me an hour later.

The name ‘Kracken' stuck and that's who I've been ever since. When we were hotshot teens and trying to score girls, Ban and Brick passed it around that my nickname came about due to the size of my dick. It worked and soon I had more free pussy than I knew what to do with, as they all wanted to know what it was like to ‘release the Kracken'.

I snicker as I wrap up my shower. Grabbing the towel from the rack, I pat my skin dry, then painstakingly apply the prescription lotion to all the raw, itchy places. Of course, now, if I release the ‘kracken' so to speak, it's to bring violence and a world of hurt to anyone who comes against me or my brothers. Any of my brothers, because we have chapters spread out around the world.

I just hope my brothers have my back when I find and decimate the fuckers who thought they could hurt Moira the way they did.

Because she's broken and I know that somewhere in her head, she feels she's not worth anything. Only… to me, she's the answer to a prayer I never knew I needed in my life.

She's going to be mine. She already is mine.

She just doesn't know it yet.

* * *

I head out to the common room, shaking my head while grinning when I see that Rory, Ryleigh, Belle, and likely RiffRaff ramped up their decorating efforts and the clubhouse now resembles Santa's workshop gone wild. Even though Christmas has passed, Ryleigh begged Brick to allow everything to stay as it is ‘for the baby' and of course, he said yes. Hopefully, it comes down soon because I don't feel very festive these days. Moira took no part in anything, and it upset Belle, which of course, had Jingles stomping around like a raging bull.

Shaking my head at my wandering thoughts, I make my way into the kitchen, and see Moira sitting there, moving food around her plate instead of eating. I grab a plate and fill it up with scrambled eggs, bacon, and some biscuits and gravy, then fix a cup of coffee before I sit down across from her.

"Good morning, roisin," I say, smiling at her. When she ignores me, I carry on with my one-sided conversation, hoping my words are seeping in even though she hasn't given any indication she knows she's not alone and that I'm here. "It's Irish and means ‘little rose' which is what you remind me of. Brick's grandfather was Irish and that's what he called Brick's grandma."

She doesn't say a word, nor does she indicate she's even heard me, but I continue talking, hoping that something, anything I say will break through to her and she'll start talking again. Wrecker and Dragon both did what they could but said that it was up to her. She needs to understand she holds the power, and nobody is holding her back except for herself.

I just hope she breaks free soon. Not just for her sake, but for Belle's and mine as well.