Chapter 17 #2
“There’s something you need to understand,” Mercy said after a long pause. His tone had shifted—less reassuring, more serious. The easy camaraderie we’d shared just moments before had evaporated, replaced by something heavier, more ominous. “About the Federation rule. About why it exists.”
I turned my head to look at him, studying his profile as he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead.
The muscles in his jaw were tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel with a tension that hadn’t been there before.
“I know why it exists. To keep excommunicated brothers and their families out of active clubs.”
“Yeah, but do you know why that rule was created?” Mercy merged into the left lane, accelerating past a line of cars with practiced ease.
The engine growled beneath us as we picked up speed.
“It’s not just some arbitrary regulation, Torment.
It wasn’t pulled out of thin air by some committee looking to flex their authority.
It was created specifically because of Hex. ”
I straightened in my seat, my full attention on him now. My pulse quickened. Every mention of Hex felt like pulling back layers of something I wasn’t sure I wanted to see but couldn’t look away from either.
“You remember what Shame said, that after Hex got out of prison,” Mercy continued, “he showed up at the Little Rock clubhouse and damn near killed Stone with his bare hands. No weapons. No backup. Just pure fucking rage. It took six brothers to pull him off, and even then, Stone spent two weeks in the hospital. Broken ribs, collapsed lung, fractured skull. The doctors said if they’d been thirty seconds later getting Hex off him, Stone would’ve died. ”
I felt my stomach drop. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Three presidents witnessed the aftermath,” Mercy said.
“William Doherty, George Stone, and Titan, Stone’s father.
They sat down together and created the Federation rule specifically to prevent situations like that from ever happening again.
Because they realized that excommunicated brothers are wildcards—they’re not bound by club law anymore, but they still have connections, still have family, still have reasons to come back.
And when they do come back, it’s usually for blood. ”
“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.