Chapter 20 #3
“Isn’t it?” she challenged, her eyes blazing.
“You didn’t call me. You didn’t reach out.
You didn’t give me any indication that you wanted anything more than what we had—which was nothing.
Just sex. Just a way to pass the time. And now, because I’m pregnant, you show up here talking about claims and protection and doing the right thing.
But you don’t want me, Torment. You want to do your duty.
And I refuse to be anyone’s obligation.”
Her words hit me like physical blows, each one landing with devastating accuracy.
Because she was right. I hadn’t called. I hadn’t reached out.
I’d left Diamond Creek without a word, without any indication that she meant more to me than just another woman warming my bed.
And now here I was, trying to claim her, trying to make things right, but I couldn’t even articulate why.
Couldn’t even explain what she meant to me or why the thought of her being gone had driven me half out of my mind.
“Brandy—” I started, but she cut me off.
“No,” she said firmly. “I appreciate you coming here. I appreciate you wanting to help. But I don’t need your claim. I don’t need your protection. I don’t need you to tie yourself to me out of some misguided sense of responsibility. I’ll figure this out on my own.”
Her rejection stung more than I’d expected.
More than it should have. Because somewhere along the way—somewhere between Diamond Creek and this moment—I’d started to believe that maybe, just maybe, I could have this.
Could have her. Could have a life that wasn’t defined by violence and trauma and the ghosts that haunted me.
But I’d fucked it up. Just like I fucked up everything else.
Hex watched the exchange in silence, his expression unreadable. Then he stood, the movement slow and deliberate, and walked out of the room without a word. The message was clear: this conversation was over.
It was well past midnight when Mercy and I found Hex in the barn.
We’d been given a guest room—Hannah had insisted.
Despite the tension, despite everything, she’d tucked us away while she and Hex explained everything to their children.
But sleep was impossible. I’d lain in the dark, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of the evening over and over in my mind.
Every mistake. Every misstep. Every word I should have said but didn’t.
Mercy had knocked on my door around one AM, his expression grim. “He’s in the barn,” he’d said simply. “We should talk to him.”
The barn was dark except for a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows across the space.
Hex stood in the back corner, staring at his motorcycle—the one that represented everything he’d left behind.
He didn’t turn when we entered, didn’t acknowledge our presence, but I knew he’d heard us.
Men like Hex always knew when they were being watched.
“You should leave,” he said finally, his voice quiet but carrying easily in the stillness. “Take your VP and go back to New York. Forget about my daughter. Forget about the baby. Just... leave.”
“I can’t do that,” I said.
“You can,” Hex replied, still not turning around. “You just don’t want to. But you should. For her sake.”
“Why?” I asked, stepping closer. “Why should I walk away from my own child? From the woman carrying my baby?”
Hex finally turned to face me, and in the harsh light of the single bulb, I could see the weight of years etched into his face.
The scars—both visible and invisible—that came from a life lived in the MC world.
“Because the club takes everything,” he said simply.
“Everything you love. Everything you care about. Everything that makes you human. It takes it all and leaves you with nothing but blood and regret.”
“You don’t know that,” I said, but the words sounded hollow even to me.
“Don’t I?” Hex challenged. “I gave them five years of my life. Five years in a cage for a crime I didn’t commit, protecting brothers who threw me away the second I was no longer useful.
I lost everything—my freedom, my reputation, my place in the world.
And when I got out, when I tried to make them pay for what they’d done, they made sure I could never come back.
Made sure my family could never be part of that world again. ”
He took a step closer, his eyes boring into mine. “The club already took enough from me once,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “I won’t let you take my daughter too.”
The threat hung in the air between us, clear and unmistakable.
Hex wasn’t just warning me away. He was drawing a line in the sand.
And if I crossed it, if I tried to claim Brandy despite his objections, despite the Federation rules, despite everything—he would come for me.
And unlike Stone, I wouldn’t survive the encounter.
Mercy shifted beside me, his hand moving subtly toward his weapon, but I shook my head slightly. Violence wasn’t the answer here. Not with Hex. Not in his own home, surrounded by his family.
“I understand,” I said finally, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. “I understand what you’re saying. What you’re asking.”
“Good,” Hex said, turning back to his motorcycle. “Then we’re done here.”
But as Mercy and I walked back toward the house, the weight of Hex’s words settling over me like a shroud, I knew one thing with absolute certainty.
We weren’t done.
Not by a long shot.