Page 40 of Sinner’s Torment

“Legally speaking—” Mercy began.

“I don’t give a shit about legally!” I slammed both hands on the table, leaning forward. “That’s my kid, Mercy. Mine. And she just took off with it like I don’t have a say in the matter?”

The door opened behind me, and I heard Shame’s voice. “What the hell is going on now?”

“Brandy ran,” Mercy said quietly. “Left Diamond Creek last night.”

“Shit.” Shame moved into my peripheral vision, crossing his arms. “Where’d she go?”

“That’s the problem,” King said through the speaker. “We don’t know. I’ve got brothers checking her usual spots, asking around, but so far nothing. It’s like she just vanished.”

Montana pushed off from the table, pacing slowly. “What do we know about her? Family? Friends? Anywhere she might run to?”

Another pause.

“Not much,” King admitted, and I could hear the frustration in his voice. “She’s been with the club for years, but she kept to herself. Didn’t talk much about her past. I know she’s from somewhere back east originally, but I don’t have specifics. No family contacts are in her file. No emergency numbers except the club.”

“How the fuck do you not know anything about her?” I demanded. “She’s been living in your clubhouse for five years and you don’t know where she’s from?”

“She’s a club whore, Torment,” King said flatly. “Not an old lady. We don’t exactly run background checks on every woman who wants to warm a brother’s bed.”

The words hit like a slap, and I felt my rage spike higher. “She’s not just a club whore anymore. She’s carrying my kid. That makes her my responsibility.”

“Then maybe you should have thought about that before you fucked her without protection,” King shot back.

I opened my mouth to respond—to tell him I had used protection, that I always used protection, that this shouldn’t have been possible—but Montana cut me off.

“Enough,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of command despite his weakened state. “Fighting about it isn’t going to find her. King, what’s your plan?”

“I’ve got Cash and a few others asking around town,” King said. “Checking with local businesses, gas stations, anywhere she might have stopped. But if she got on the highway, she could be anywhere by now.”

“She’s got what, a twelve-hour head start?” Mercy asked.

“At least,” King confirmed. “Maybe more. The prospect didn’t report it until this morning.”

“Fuck.” Montana ran a hand through his hair, grimacing. “Alright. We need to⁠—”

“I can help,” Shame interrupted, stepping forward. “I’ve got contacts. People who owe me favors. I can put out feelers, see if anyone’s seen her.”

“Do it,” Montana said immediately.

I turned to look at Shame, something desperate clawing at my chest. “Find her,” I said, my voice rough. “Find everything you can about her. Friends, family, old addresses, anything. I don’t care what it takes or what you have to do. Just find her.”

Shame nodded, his expression serious. “I’m on it.”

Montana pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. “I’ll call Sypher. Kid’s a fucking wizard with computers. If anyone can track her down, it’s him.”

He hit dial and put the phone on speaker, setting it on the table next to King’s call.

It rang four times before Sypher’s voice came through, sounding distracted. “Yeah?”

“Sypher, it’s Montana. I need you to⁠—”

“Busy,” Sypher interrupted. “Whatever it is, it’s gonna have to wait.”

Montana’s jaw tightened. “This can’t wait. We’ve got a situation. One of the Silver Shadows’ club whores ran off, and she’s pregnant with Torment’s kid. We need you to track her down.”

“Can’t,” Sypher said, and I could hear the clicking of a keyboard in the background. “I’m in the middle of something for Reaper. Won’t be free for at least a week, maybe longer.”