Page 59 of Sinner’s Torment

“So the rule is about containment,” I said slowly.

“Exactly. It’s about making sure that if a brother gets excommunicated, his family can’t be used as leverage or entry points back into the club world. It’s about cutting ties completely.” Mercy glanced over at me. “And it’s about protecting everyone involved—the clubs, the families, and the excommunicated brothers themselves.”

“But Brandy didn’t know,” I said. “She had no idea who her father was or what he’d done. She joined the Silver Shadows on her own.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Mercy’s voice was flat. “The rule doesn’t care about intent. It cares about bloodlines. And Brandy is Hex’s daughter, which means she should never have been allowed anywhere near an active club. The fact that she was—the fact that she became a club whore—is a massive violation of Federation law.”

I felt the weight of that settle over me like a shroud.

“King’s going to be in deep shit when this comes out after the war,” Mercy continued. “So is everyone in the Silver Shadows who ever touched her. The club should have vetted her. Should have done background checks. Should have known who her father was before they ever let her through the door.”

“And now she’s pregnant with my kid,” I said quietly.

“Yeah. Which makes this a Soulless Sinners’ problem too.” Mercy sighed. “Montana’s going to have to answer for this as well. We all are.”

The highway stretched out ahead of us, endless and unforgiving. Mile after mile of asphalt disappearing into the horizon, broken only by the occasional gas station or roadside diner. The landscape was flat and desolate, mirroring the weight of what we were riding toward.

“There’s something else you need to know,” Mercy said after a moment. His voice had dropped lower, more serious. The shift in his tone made my shoulders tense. “About Hex himself.”

“What about him?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the road ahead.

“He’s not just some ex-con with a grudge, Torment. He’s a force of fucking nature.” Mercy’s hands tightened on the wheel, his knuckles going white. “I’ve heard stories about him from the old-timers—guys who were around back in the day. They say Hex was the kind of brother you didn’t fuck with. Ever. He was Titan’s enforcer before he was VP, and he had a reputation for being absolutely ruthless. No hesitation. No mercy. Just cold, calculated violence when it was needed.”

The wind howled past us as Mercy continued, “They say he once took down three rival club members in a bar fight with nothing but a pool cue and his bare hands. Left them all breathing, but barely. That was his style—precise, efficient, terrifying.”

I thought about the man Montana had described in the boardroom—the legend who’d taken the fall for his club and come back for vengeance. A man who’d spent five years behind bars, his anger fermenting and intensifying with each passing day. What kind of monster had those years created?

“Sandman’s dangerous,” Mercy continued. “We all know that. He’s got that dead-eyed killer thing going on, and he’s put more bodies in the ground than most of us have seen in our lifetimes. But Hex? Hex makes Sandman look like a cuddly fucking teddy bear.”

I felt a chill run down my spine.

“I’m not trying to scare you,” Mercy said. “I’m trying to prepare you. Because when we get to that house, you need to understand what you’re walking into. Hex is sixty-three years old, but don’t let that fool you. He’s still dangerous. Still deadly. And he’s got every reason in the world to want you dead.”

“Because I got his daughter pregnant.”

“Because you’re part of the world that used his daughter as a club whore.” Mercy’s voice was grim. “In his eyes, you’re complicit. Doesn’t matter that you didn’t know who she was. Doesn’t matter that you care about her. All that matters is that she’s got a Silver Shadows tattoo on her shoulder and your baby in her belly, and both of those things are violations of everything he tried to protect her from.”

I stared out the window, watching the landscape blur past in streaks of green and gray. We were in Connecticut, the highway cutting through rolling hills and dense forests that seemed to stretch endlessly on either side of us. The suburbs were starting to appear more frequently—exit signs for small towns with names I recognized, places that had their own histories and secrets I grew up hearing about.

“So what do I do?” I asked, finally breaking the silence that had settled between us.

“You don’t lower your guard,” Mercy said firmly, his voice taking on a more serious tone than I’d heard from him before. “You stay alert. You watch his hands at all times. You don’t make any sudden moves. And you sure as hell don’t disrespect him or his daughter in any way, shape, or form.”

“I’m not planning to,” I said, though my voice came out weaker than I intended.

“Good. Because if you do, he’ll kill you. And I’m not being dramatic. I’m not trying to scare you just for the hell of it. I mean he will literally kill you, and there won’t be a damn thing I can do to stop him. Not a single thing.”

The weight of that settled over me, heavy and suffocating, like a wet blanket pressing down on my chest. I could feel my heart beating faster.

We drove in silence for a while, the miles ticking past. The sun was already well above the horizon, washing everything in the clear light of midmorning. We entered Bethlehem, and Mercy slowed down, checking the GPS on his phone.

“It’s just up ahead,” he said. “About two miles out.”

My heart started pounding harder, adrenaline flooding my system.

This was it.

This was the moment everything changed.