Page 95 of Sinner’s Torment

And I walked out of that room without looking back. Without giving Stone’s body another thought. Without carrying the weight of his death on my conscience.

Because some men deserved to die. And Stone Ward had been one of them.

The hallway was littered with bodies—Death Dogs who’d made the mistake of standing between us and Brandy. I stepped over them without pause, my focus entirely on getting downstairs, on finding my daughter, on making sure she was safe. Behind me, I could hear Mercy, Smokey, and Dutch following, their boots heavy on the rotting floorboards.

The first floor was chaos. Brothers moving through rooms, securing the perimeter, checking bodies. The smell of gunpowder hung thick in the air, mixing with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid stench of fear. But the gunfire had stopped. The assault was over. We’d won.

I found Brandy outside, sitting in the back of the SUV with Torment beside her, his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. She looked up when she saw me, her eyes red and swollen from crying, her face still bruised and battered. But she was alive. She was safe. And that was all that mattered.

“Dad,” she said, her voice breaking on the word.

I crossed the distance between us; she met me outside of the SUV and I pulled her into my arms, holding her as tightly as I dared without hurting her. She buried her face against my chest and sobbed—deep, wrenching sobs that shook her entire body. I held her through it, one hand stroking her hair, the other pressed against her back, and let her cry. Let her release all the fear and pain and trauma she’d been holding inside.

“It’s over,” I murmured against the top of her head. “It’s over, baby girl. You’re safe now. I promise.”

She nodded against my chest, her fingers clutching at my shirt like she was afraid I’d disappear if she let go. Over her head, I met Torment’s eyes. He looked exhausted, his face pale, his eyes haunted. But there was something else there too. Something that looked like gratitude. Like respect.

Like understanding.

I nodded at him—a silent acknowledgment of what he’d done, of how he’d protected my daughter, of the man he was trying to become. He nodded back, and in that moment, I knew. Knew that he would take care of her. Knew that he would fight for her. Knew that he loved her in a way that transcended obligation or duty or club politics.

And that was enough.

“Let’s go home,” I said quietly.

Brandy pulled back slightly, looking up at me with those eyes that were so much like her mother’s. “Is he...?”

“He’s gone,” I said simply. “He’ll never hurt you again.”

She nodded, then turned back to Torment, who pulled her against his side and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. I stepped back, giving them space, giving them the moment they needed.

Around us, the brothers were loading up, preparing to move out. Montana was coordinating with Grudge, making sure everyone was accounted for. Mercy was on the phone with someone—probably Reaper or King, updating them on the situation. Smokey and Dutch stood near their bikes, watching me with expressions that said they understood exactly what had happened in that room upstairs.

I walked over to them, my hands still aching, my body still thrumming with residual adrenaline. “Thank you,” I said quietly. “For coming. For standing with me.”

“Always, brother,” Smokey said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Always.”

Dutch nodded. “You did what needed to be done. No one’s going to question that.”

I looked back at the farmhouse—at the place where I’d finally ended the threat that had been hanging over my family—and felt something settle inside me. Something that had been restless and angry and afraid for so long I’d forgotten what peace felt like.

But I felt it now.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said.

And we did. We loaded up, rode out, and left that place behind. Left the bodies for someone else to find. Left the violence and the chaos and the blood in the rearview mirror where it belonged.

Because I was done. Done running. Done hiding. Done letting the past define my future.

I had a daughter to protect. A grandchild on the way. A wife waiting for me at home. A life that was worth living, worth fighting for, worth everything I’d sacrificed to build it.

And nothing—not Stone, not the Silver Shadows, not the entire fucking MC world—was going to take that away from me.

Never again.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Brandy