Page 28 of Sinner’s Torment

“No matter what,” she said softly, her voice low enough that only I could hear, pitched just for me, “you have a home here and people who care about you, Brandy. People who love you. Don’t forget that. Don’t ever forget that.”

I looked at her, my throat so tight I could barely swallow. My eyes burned with unshed tears I refused to let fall, not yet, not here in this hallway where anyone could see.

She gave me a small, reassuring smile, the kind that reached her eyes and crinkled the corners in that genuine way that made her beautiful despite—or maybe because of—the lines life had etched there. “You’re not alone in this. You hear me? You’re not alone. No matter what that test says, no matter what happens next, you have us. You have this family.”

I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to believe her so badly it physically hurt, like something sharp and jagged was lodged in my chest.

But the fear coiling in my chest, wrapping around my lungs like a vise, tightening with every breath, made it hard to breathe, let alone believe anything good could come from this.

We reached King’s office at the end of the hall, and Cash didn’t bother knocking. He just opened the heavy wooden door and stepped aside, gesturing with one tattooed hand for me to go in. The skull and crossbones inked across his knuckles seemed to grin at me mockingly.

I hesitated at the threshold, my feet refusing to move forward, suddenly feeling like if I stepped through that doorway, everything would change irrevocably. Like I was standing on the edge of a cliff and that one step would send me tumbling over the side. I looked back at Grace with wide, pleading eyes, silently begging her not to make me do this alone.

“Are you staying too?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, shaking with uncertainty and desperate hope.

Grace smiled, warm and steady and solid, like an anchor in a storm. “Only if you want me to, honey. This is your news, your moment. But if you need me, I’m here.”

I nodded quickly, too quickly, desperate. “Please. Please stay. I can’t—I need you there.”

She stepped into the office with me without hesitation, without judgment, and Cash shut the door behind us with a quiet, final-sounding click that made my stomach turn and my pulse spike. That soft sound felt like the closing of a chapter, the sealing of a fate.

King was sitting behind his massive desk, his leather cut draped over his broad shoulders, the Silver Shadows’ patch worn and faded from years of wear. His expression was serious but not unkind, his dark eyes holding a gravity that made my heart pound even harder. The afternoon sunlight streaming through the window behind him cast him in silhouette, making him look larger than life, more intimidating. His office smelled like leather and motor oil and the faint, lingering scent of cigar smoke. The walls were covered with photographs of the club throughout the years—brothers laughing, riding, celebrating. Memories of a family I was now part of, whether I’d planned it or not. His eyes met mine as he gestured to the two chairs positioned in front of him, worn leather seats that had probably held countless people receiving news both good and terrible.

“Have a seat, Brandy.”

I sat down carefully, like I might break if I moved too fast, lowering myself into the chair with exaggerated caution, my hands trembling uncontrollably in my lap. I tried to fold them together to hide the shaking, but it was useless. Grace pulled up a chair next to me, scraping it across the floor until it was close enough that our shoulders touched, her presence grounding me, reminding me I wasn’t alone. Cash moved to lean against the wall behind King, his arms still crossed, his steady gaze fixed on me with an intensity that should have made me uncomfortable but instead felt protective, like a guardian standing watch.

King didn’t waste time with pleasantries or small talk. He never did. That wasn’t his way, and right now, I appreciated it. I couldn’t have handled pointless conversation, couldn’t have pretended everything was normal for even another second.

“Torment is the father,” he said, his voice calm, like he was discussing the weather instead of changing my entire life with four simple words. “Bane confirmed it. The DNA test came back positive. There’s no doubt. No margin of error. It’s definitive.”

My eyes widened, my breath catching in my throat, getting stuck somewhere between my lungs and my mouth.

For a second, I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t process what he’d just said, couldn’t make my brain understand the words even though they were simple enough. English words I’d known since childhood, arranged in a way that should have made perfect sense.

Torment.

It was Torment.

The DNA test confirmed it.

He was the father of my baby.

The baby growing inside me right now, the size of a lentil or a blueberry or whatever the pregnancy app I’d downloaded said it was this week.

I looked at Grace, my vision blurring slightly as the reality of it hit me like a freight train going full speed, knocking the air from my lungs, making the room tilt and spin.

She reached over immediately and took both of my hands in hers, her grip firm and grounding, anchoring me to reality, keeping me from floating away into the panic threatening to swallow me whole.

“How are you feeling?” she asked gently, her voice soft and caring, her eyes full of warmth and understanding.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out at first. My lips moved, shaping sounds that didn’t quite form, while my brain scrambled to find language adequate for the hurricane of emotions tearing through me.

How was I feeling?

I didn’t know.

I honestly didn’t know.