Page 53 of Sinner’s Torment

I pulled my phone from my back pocket, the screen glowing bright in the darkness of the barn. My thumb hovered over the contacts for a moment, scrolling through the legitimate numbers—contractors, suppliers, the grandkids’ schools.

Then I opened the hidden folder.

The one I’d told myself I’d never use again.

The one that contained exactly three numbers from my old life.

I selected the first one and hit dial.

It rang four times before a weathered, gravelly voice answered.

“Yeah?”

“Smokey,” I said, my voice flat and cold. “It’s Hex.”

Silence.

Dead motherfucking silence.

I could hear his breathing on the other end of the line. Could practically see him sitting up straighter, his mind racing through the implications of this call. Because I was ex-communicated. Persona non grata. An untouchable. For me to be calling him meant that something had gone catastrophically wrong.

“Hex?” His voice was barely above a whisper, disbelief and caution warring in his tone. “Why are you calling me?”

I didn’t waste time with pleasantries. Didn’t bother with explanations. “The club used my daughter as a whore.”

Not a question. A statement. A declaration of war.

“Daughter?” Smokey’s voice cracked. “What daughter?”

“Brandy.”

“Oh, fuck.” The words came out in a rush, followed by a string of curses that would have been impressive under different circumstances. “Oh, fuck. Hex, I didn’t—nobody knew⁠—”

“Tell them I’m coming.”

“Hex.” He was scrambling now, his voice rising with panic. “Look, brother, no one knows. I swear to God, no one knew she was your daughter. King’s the new president now. Little Rock isn’t even the Mother Chapter anymore. Shit’s been real bad lately in the biker world. The Death Dogs⁠—”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

“Hex, please.” He was begging now. Actually begging. “The current club brothers weren’t even around back then. Hell, most of them weren’t even a thought in their old man’s balls when you were VP. Give me a day. Twenty-four hours to find out how this happened. Give me a chance to make this right.”

“No.”

I disconnected the call and stood there in the darkness, the phone still in my hand, the ledger in the other. My heart was beating slowly and steadily. My breathing was controlled. My mind was clear.

I wasn’t angry anymore.

I was something far more dangerous.

I was resolved.

There was only one way to settle this. Only one way to make them understand that you didn’t touch a man’s daughter and walk away unscathed.

Only one way to restore the balance they’d destroyed when they tattooed my baby girl and put her on her back for any brother who wanted her.

Someone was going to die.

Maybe King, for allowing it to happen under his watch.