Page 104 of Sinner’s Torment

Brandy

Seven months later...

The ride to Diamond Creek felt different this time.

Maybe it was because I wasn’t running away. Maybe it was because Torment’s hand rested possessively on my thigh as he drove, his thumb tracing lazy circles that made my breath catch while our son slept quietly in the back seat. Maybe it was because my family—my entire family—was following behind us in a convoy of vehicles, heading toward a world I’d once tried to escape.

Or maybe it was because I finally understood what it meant to belong somewhere. To someone.

“You okay?” Torment asked, glancing at me with those intense eyes that still made my heart skip.

I nodded, placing my hand over his. “Yeah. I’m good.”

And I was. For the first time in my life, I actually was.

The invitation from King had come two weeks ago—a formal request for my father, my family, and me to attend a Silver Shadows’ barbeque in Diamond Creek, now that the war was over. Torment had been cryptic about it, saying only that King wanted to honor what had happened in Connecticut. That the club wanted to show their gratitude.

But as we pulled into the Silver Shadows’ compound, I knew immediately that something else was happening.

The parking lot was packed with motorcycles—far more than the Diamond Creek Chapter alone could account for. Rows and rows of bikes gleamed in the afternoon sun, their chrome catching the light like mirrors. And standing in formation outside the clubhouse were brothers from both the Diamond Creek and Little Rock Chapters, their cuts pristine, their expressions solemn.

This wasn’t just a barbeque.

This was something ceremonial.

“Torment?” I said quietly, my hand tightening on his.

He squeezed back, his expression unreadable. “Trust me.”

We parked, and I climbed out slowly, my eyes scanning the assembled brothers. King stood at the front, his presence commanding even in stillness. Grace was beside him, a small baby in her arms.

My family pulled up behind us as I unbuckled my own baby from his car seat, and I heard my mother’s soft gasp as she took in the scene. My brothers climbed out of their vehicles, their expressions curious and slightly wary. And my father...

My father stopped dead in his tracks.

His face went pale, then flushed, his eyes moving over the rows of Silver Shadows’ brothers standing at attention. I saw his jaw clench and his hands curl into fists at his sides. My mother moved to him immediately, her hand finding his, and he gripped it like a lifeline.

“Dad?” I started toward him, but Torment’s hand on my arm stopped me.

He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear, his voice low and intimate. “This isn’t just about Connecticut, baby. This is how the club welcomes home a long-lost brother.”

My breath caught, my eyes widening as understanding crashed over me. The formation. The ceremony. The presence of both chapters.

They were honoring my father.

After thirty-three years of exile, of being persona non grata, of living in the shadows of a life he’d left behind—they were finally acknowledging what he’d sacrificed. What he’d lost. What he’d always been, even when they’d stripped him of his cut and his identity.

Tears pricked my eyes, and I felt Torment’s arm slide around my waist, anchoring me.

King stepped forward, his boots crunching on the gravel, his expression serious but warm. He stopped in front of my father, and for a long moment, the two men just stared at each other—measuring, assessing, understanding passing between them without words.

Then King extended his hand and clasped my father’s arm in the traditional brotherhood grip.

“Thank you,” King said, his voice carrying across the compound, “for everything you’ve done, brother.”

My father’s throat worked, his eyes glistening. “King⁠—”

“For protecting your daughter,” King continued, his grip tightening. “For killing Stone. For standing up for what you believed in, even when it cost you everything. For never compromising your principles, even when the club moved against you.”