Page 78 of Sinner’s Torment

Mercy straightened slightly, his eyes flicking to me, then back to Hex. He understood the implications just as clearly as I did. This was a massive concession. This was Montana and Reaper using their political capital to override decades of Federation law. This was them acknowledging that the original rule—the one created specifically because of Hex—was unjust.

“Why?” Hex asked, his voice cutting through my spiraling thoughts like a blade. “Why would you all do that?”

Montana was quiet for a moment, and I could hear the weight of what he was about to say in that silence. “Because of my father,” he said finally, his voice tight. “Because my motherfucking old man was involved in what happened to you all those years ago. Because Reaper’s father, that piece of shit William Doherty, was involved. Because Titan was involved. And because all three of them created that federation rule to cover their own asses after you nearly killed Stone.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and damning. George Stone. Montana’s father. The former president of the Soulless Sinners. The man who’d built the club into what it was today. And he’d been complicit in whatever had happened to Hex. He’d been part of the betrayal.

“We’re trying to make it right, brother,” Montana continued. “Or as right as it can be after thirty years. We’re acknowledging that you got fucked over. That the rule was created to protect them, not to protect the clubs. And we’re willing to lift it. For Brandy. For your grandchild.”

I watched Hex carefully, cataloging every micro-expression, every shift in body language. His shoulders were still rigid, his jaw still clenched, but there was something else now. Something darker. Something that looked almost like contempt.

“No,” Hex said.

The word was simple, absolute, and it hit me like a physical blow.

“What?” Montana’s voice crackled through the speaker, disbelief clear in his tone. “Hex, you don’t understand—this is the solution. This makes it possible. Torment can claim Brandy. She’ll be protected. The baby will be protected. This is what you wanted.”

“No,” Hex repeated, his voice harder now, edged with something that might have been anger or might have been exhaustion. “It’s not what I wanted. And it doesn’t change anything.”

“How the fuck does it not change anything?” Montana demanded, his patience clearly wearing thin. “We’re lifting the ban. We’re giving you back what was taken from you. We’re making it possible for your daughter to have a future in this world if that’s what she chooses.”

“The past is written in stone, Stone,” Hex said, and the deliberate use of Montana’s surname was like a slap across the face. “And there is no changing it. Eventually, everyone’s going to learn the truth, and it won’t matter anymore. None of this. None of it will fucking matter.”

I felt something shift in my chest—a cold, creeping realization that spread through me like ice water in my veins. The way Hex said it. The way he emphasized “Stone.” The way he looked at the phone like he could see Montana through it, like he was delivering a message that went far beyond this conversation.

Hex knew something.

Something big. Something that went beyond his imprisonment, beyond the beating he’d given Titan’s son, beyond personal vengeance. This wasn’t about one man’s betrayal. This was about something systemic. Something institutional. Something that implicated multiple clubs at the highest levels.

“What truth?” I asked, my voice cutting through the tension. “What are you talking about, Hex?”

Hex turned to look at me, and for the first time since we’d entered the barn, I saw something in his eyes that looked almost like pity. “You’ll find out,” he said quietly. “Everyone will. And when you do, you’ll understand why lifting the excommunication doesn’t mean shit.”

My mind raced, piecing together fragments of information, trying to understand what Hex was saying without saying. George Stone had been involved. Titan had been involved. William Doherty—Reaper’s father—had been involved. Three presidents. Three clubs. The Silver Shadows, the Soulless Sinners, the Golden Skulls. All connected to whatever had happened to Hex all those years ago.

And Hex had evidence. He had to.

Whatever Hex knew would condemn them all.

I glanced at Mercy, looking for confirmation, for understanding, for anything that would tell me I wasn’t crazy. But Mercy just shrugged, his expression grim. He didn’t know. This wasn’t information the Soulless Sinners had. This was Hex’s secret to keep or reveal.

“Hex,” Montana said, his voice tight with frustration. “I don’t know what you think you know, but⁠—”

“I don’t think I know anything,” Hex interrupted, his voice cold. “I know. I’ve known for over thirty years. And I’ve been waiting for the right time to make sure everyone else knows too.”

The threat was clear. Unmistakable. Hex wasn’t just refusing the offer to lift his excommunication. He was promising retribution. He was promising that whatever secret he’d been keeping would come to light, and when it did, it would destroy everything.

I opened my mouth to ask him to explain, to demand to know what he was talking about, to understand what secret could be so damning that even lifting the excommunication ban didn’t matter. Because I needed to know. I needed to understand what I was walking into, what Brandy was walking into, what our child would be born into.

But before I could speak, the barn door flew open with a crash that made all three of us turn.

Hannah stood in the doorway, her face white, her eyes wide with panic. Her chest was heaving like she’d been running, and her hands were shaking as she gripped the doorframe for support.

“Brandy’s gone!” she gasped, her voice high and frantic. “She took my car! I went to check on her and her room is empty—her bag is gone—I can’t find her anywhere!”

The world tilted.

For a moment, everything stopped. Montana was still on the phone, his voice a distant buzz I couldn’t process. Mercy was frozen, his expression shifting from alert to alarmed. Hex slowly turned to look at Hannah, his face draining of color.