Chapter 9 #2
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.
Relieved, maybe. Because at least now I knew for certain. At least now there was no more uncertainty, no more wondering if it was him or someone else or if I’d somehow gotten the timeline wrong or misremembered or—
But underneath the relief was something else. Something darker and heavier and more suffocating that settled in my gut like lead, cold and dense and paralyzing.
Fear.
Deep, bone-deep, paralyzing fear that made my hands shake and my heart race and my thoughts scatter.
Because knowing who the father was didn’t answer the bigger, more terrifying question that had been keeping me awake at night, staring at the ceiling, counting my heartbeats and wondering if I was making a mistake with every breath.
What happened next?
What did this mean for me? For the baby? For my life? For the future I’d imagined for myself that suddenly looked nothing like the reality I was facing?
“I don’t know,” I said finally, my voice shaking so badly I barely recognized it as my own.
It sounded small and frightened and young, like a child’s voice.
“I’m... I’m happy to know, I think. I mean, I’m glad it’s not...
I’m glad I know who the father is. That’s good, right? That’s better than not knowing?”
Grace squeezed my hands encouragingly, her fingers warm and strong. “But?”
“But I don’t know what happens now,” I admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush, spilling over each other in my desperation to get them out before I lost my nerve.
“This wasn’t part of any plan. I didn’t plan to get pregnant.
I didn’t plan for any of this. With so many brothers taking on old ladies, I figured my time here was coming to an end.
I thought maybe I’d go back to school, finish my degree, maybe travel a little, figure out what I wanted to do with my life. And now...”
I trailed off, my throat closing up completely, tears burning behind my eyes, hot and insistent, demanding to be shed.
King leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk, his rings glinting in the afternoon light—silver and steel and one with a small ruby that caught the sun.
“Bane has informed Torment and Montana. They both know. Torment knows he’s the father.
Montana knows one of his officers is about to become a father. ”
My heart stuttered, skipping several beats before racing to catch up, pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat, my wrists, my temples.
Torment knew.
He knew he was the father.
He knew about the baby.
He knew that last night we spent together—that incredible, terrifying, passionate night—had consequences neither of us had planned for.
“And?” I asked, my voice barely audible, nothing more than a breath, a whisper of sound. “What did he say? How did he react?”
King’s expression didn’t change, didn’t give anything away.
His face remained carefully neutral, the way it did when he was delivering news he knew wouldn’t be well-received.
“They’ve requested that you fly out to New York immediately.
As soon as possible. They want you there within the next few days. ”
I stiffened, my entire body going rigid, every muscle locking up like I’d been turned to stone.
“What?” The word came out sharper than I intended, louder, echoing in the quiet office. “Why? Why do they want me to go to New York? I don’t understand.”
King’s gaze was steady, unwavering, unflinching, holding mine with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.
“Because Torment is an officer in the Soulless Sinners MC—he’s the club’s therapist, one of Montana’s right-hand men.
That makes this club business, Brandy. Official club business.
Not just personal. Not just about you and him.
It’s bigger than that now. It’s better for you and the baby to be in New York, where the Soulless Sinners can help protect you directly if needed, where you’re under their roof, part of their territory. ”
“Protect me?” I repeated, my voice rising with each word, panic creeping in like cold water rising around me, threatening to pull me under. “Protect me from what? What are you talking about? Who would want to hurt me?”
“From whatever comes next,” King said simply, his tone grave and heavy with implications I didn’t want to understand.
“The Death Dogs are still out there, still a threat, still looking for ways to hurt us and everyone connected to us. All the clubs, including the Soulless Sinners, are in the middle of a war right now. A dangerous war. The kind where people get hurt, where innocent people become collateral damage. If you’re carrying Torment’s child—an officer’s child—that makes you a target, Brandy.
Not just for the Death Dogs, but for anyone who wants to hurt the Soulless Sinners, anyone who wants leverage against them, anyone who sees weakness they can exploit. ”
I felt like the floor had dropped out from under me, like I was falling through empty space with nothing to grab onto, nothing to stop my descent.
A target.
I was a target now.
Me and my baby.
This tiny cluster of cells growing inside me that I was already starting to love despite everything, despite the fear and the uncertainty and the complete upheaval of every plan I’d ever made.
“I don’t want to go,” I said, my voice trembling violently, tears spilling over now, hot tracks down my cheeks that I didn’t bother to wipe away. “My home is here. Diamond Creek has been my home for years now, where I know every street and every face. I don’t want to leave. I can’t leave...”
King leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight, his expression softening slightly, genuine sympathy in his dark eyes.
“I understand that, Brandy. I really do. Trust me, I get it. But my options are limited because of who the father is, because of club politics and alliances and obligations. This isn’t just about you anymore.
As much as I wish it was that simple, it’s not.
It’s about the baby. It’s about the alliance between the Silver Shadows and the Soulless Sinners, an alliance that’s kept both clubs safe, that’s built on trust and mutual respect.
It’s about keeping you safe, keeping that baby safe, honoring the agreements we’ve made. ”
“But—”
“I won’t force you to go,” King said, cutting me off gently but firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument even as he gave me a choice.
“If you truly want to stay here, if that’s what you decide after really thinking it through, I’ll respect that decision.
It’s your life, your choice, your body. But you need to understand what that means.
Really understand, not just hear the words but comprehend the reality.
You’ll be here, in Diamond Creek, without the father of your child.
Without the direct protection of his club, without the resources and manpower they can provide.
And if something happens—if the Death Dogs come back, if things escalate in this war, if you become a target and someone decides you’re worth taking to get to Torment or Montana or the Soulless Sinners—I can’t guarantee your safety.
I wish I could, but I can’t. The Soulless Sinners have bigger enemies than we do.
We’ll do our best, but I can’t make promises I might not be able to keep. ”
I stared at him, my mind racing frantically, thoughts colliding and scattering like marbles spilled across a floor, rolling in every direction, impossible to gather back together.
He was right.
Deep down, in the part of me that understood how the MC world worked, that had been around these men and their codes and their wars, I knew he was right.
But the thought of leaving Diamond Creek, of going all the way to New York, of facing Torment after all this time, after almost two months of silence where I’d heard nothing from him, not a call or a text or any acknowledgment that our night together had meant anything at all—it absolutely terrified me in a way that made my chest tight and my breathing shallow.
King reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small sheet of paper, folded once. He slid it carefully across the polished wood toward me, the sound of paper on wood unnaturally loud in the tense silence.
“Torment has asked you to call him,” he said quietly, watching my reaction with careful eyes.
I looked down at the paper with wide eyes, like it might bite me or burst into flames if I touched it.
A phone number was written in neat, precise handwriting that I didn’t recognize—probably Grace’s.
Torment’s number.
His personal number.
A direct line to the man who’d changed everything with one night, one incredible night that I’d replayed in my mind a thousand times.
My hands shook as I picked it up, the paper crinkling loudly between my trembling fingers, the sound seeming to fill the entire room.
“He wants to talk to you,” King continued, his voice gentle now, almost sympathetic.
“About the baby. About what comes next. About your options and what kind of support you’ll have.
He’s not trying to force you into anything, Brandy.
He was very clear about that when Bane spoke to him.
But he wants to be involved. He wants to help.
He wants to do right by you and the baby.
Whatever that looks like, whatever you need. ”