Page 24 of Sinner’s Torment

I could see them out of the corner of my eye, leaning back in their chairs like they were watching the best goddamn show on earth, like this was premium entertainment laid out just for them.

Payne caught my eye and smirked, that infuriating, knowing smirk of his. “Never thought I’d see the day, brother.”

“Right?” Rage said, his grin widening until it practically split his face in two. “Torment, of all people. Mr. Controlled. Mr. Analytical. Mr. I-Never-Make-Mistakes. Mr. I-Always-Have-My-Shit-Together. And now look at you—knocked up some girl and didn’t even know about it.”

“Fuck off,” I muttered, my jaw clenching so hard I thought my teeth might crack.

“Can’t fuck off,” Payne said, still grinning like an idiot who’d just won the lottery. “This is too good. This is once-in-a-lifetime entertainment right here.”

Rage nodded enthusiastically, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I mean, if it was me, I’d get it. Or Payne. Or hell, even Fury. We’re all walking disasters when it comes to this shit. But you? You’re the guy who probably has a checklist for sex. ‘Step one: obtain enthusiastic consent. Step two: utilize appropriate protection. Step three: post-coital hydration and aftercare discussion.’”

Payne snorted so hard he nearly choked on his own spit. “Post-coital hydration. Jesus Christ, that’s perfect.”

“I’m just saying,” Rage continued, gesturing wildly with his hands like he was presenting a TED talk, “this is the most human thing I’ve ever seen you do. The most normal, fuck-up-like-the-rest-of-us thing. It’s beautiful, really.”

“Glad I could entertain you,” I said flatly, my voice devoid of emotion.

Fury leaned over and slapped me on the back, hard enough that I nearly lurched forward and face-planted into the table in front of me.

“Congratulations, brother,” he said, his voice absolutely dripping with sarcasm and mock sincerity. “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer, more uptight, straitlaced, by-the-book guy.”

I turned to glare at him. “Really?”

“Really.” Fury’s grin was wide and completely unapologetic, showing all his teeth like a predator who’d cornered his prey. “I mean, you’re the guy who color-codes his fucking bookshelf by genre and author. You probably have a spreadsheet for your grocery list with formulas and projected monthly expenses. And now you’ve knocked up a club whore. It’s poetic, really. Like something out of a twisted romance novel.”

“It’s not confirmed,” I said through gritted teeth, my hands balling into fists at my sides.

“But it’s likely,” Fury said, leaning back in his chair with smug satisfaction. “And that’s enough for me. That’s enough to make this the best day I’ve had in months.”

Vicious groaned from across the table, a low, guttural sound that cut through the heated conversation like a knife.

Everyone turned to look at him, the room falling silent except for the faint hum of the overhead lights.

He stood up slowly, his chair scraping against the floor with a harsh screech. His expression was weary, almost defeated, with dark circles under his eyes that suggested he hadn’t slept properly in days. “I need a drink.”

“We’re not done here,” Mercy said, his voice sharp and commanding. He fixed him with a steely glare that had made grown men reconsider their life choices.

“I don’t give a fuck,” Vicious said flatly, already turning away from the table. His voice was devoid of emotion, like he’d used up every last bit of patience he had. “I need a drink. This is too much.”

Shame stood up too, his movements deliberate and unapologetic, following Vicious toward the door without hesitation. “I’m with him.”

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Montana demanded, rising from his seat as if he might physically block their exit. His face was flushed with anger and frustration.

“To get a drink,” Shame said simply, not even bothering to turn around. “Because if I have to sit here and listen to this shit sober for one more minute, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”

The door opened and closed again with a definitive thud, leaving the rest of us sitting in tense, uncomfortable silence. The absence of Vicious and Shame felt like a vacuum, sucking all the energy out of the room.

Storm leaned forward after a long moment, resting his elbows on the table, his expression thoughtful and contemplative. “You know, this reminds me of⁠—”

“Don’t,” Montana said sharply, his tone cutting through the tension in the room like a knife.

Storm blinked, genuinely confused by the sudden hostility. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t compare this to your situation with Delany,” Montana said, his eyes narrowing as he pointed a warning finger in Storm’s direction. “We don’t need to hear it. Not right now.”

“I’m just saying—” Storm started, raising his hands defensively.

“We know what you’re saying,” Mercy cut in, his voice firm and unyielding as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You fucked Delany, she got pregnant, you didn’t find out until years later because she deliberately kept it from you. We all know the story. We’ve heard it a hundred times. But this isn’t the same.”