Chapter 29 #2
I was going to tell Torment I was wrong, that I was scared, that I panicked and ran like I always did when things got too real.
I was going to tell him I wanted him and our baby and whatever messy, complicated, uncertain future we could build together.
I was going to tell my parents I loved them, that I was sorry for running away again, that I was tired of being the daughter who disappeared when things got hard.
I was ready to stop hiding behind my fear, behind my past, behind all the excuses I’d made for why I couldn’t have the things I wanted most. I was going to accept that I deserved happiness, that I deserved to be loved without conditions, that my past mistakes and trauma didn’t have to dictate every choice I made for the rest of my life.
The relief that washed over me was almost overwhelming, nearly bringing me to my knees right there in the gas station parking lot.
Like a weight I’d been carrying for years—maybe my whole life—had suddenly lifted, leaving me lighter, freer, able to stand up straight and breathe deeply for the first time in forever.
I could finally see a future that didn’t terrify me.
I practically ran into the gas station to pay, my hands fumbling with my wallet as I shoved cash at the bored teenager behind the counter.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a harsh, sterile glow that made my eyes water.
He barely looked up from his phone—just took my money with one hand while scrolling with the other and waved me away with a dismissive flick of his wrist. I didn’t care.
I didn’t have the energy to be annoyed by his apathy.
I was too focused on getting back on the road, getting back to Bethlehem, getting back to Torment.
The evening air was cool against my flushed skin as I stepped back outside, a welcome relief from the stale air-conditioning inside.
The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink and purple, streaks of color bleeding across the horizon like watercolors on wet paper.
It was beautiful. Everything felt beautiful suddenly, like the world had shifted into sharper focus now that I’d made my decision.
Like I was finally seeing clearly for the first time in weeks.
I was halfway to my mother’s car, keys already in my hand, when I heard it.
The sound of a motorcycle engine. Low and menacing and deliberate, the kind of sound that made your stomach drop and your instincts scream danger. Not the distant rumble of traffic on the highway, but close. Right here. In the gas station parking lot. Coming closer.
My steps faltered, my heart suddenly pounding for an entirely different reason. The keys slipped in my sweaty palm.
The bike pulled up alongside my mother’s car, blocking my path completely. The engine idled with a predatory growl, vibrating through the asphalt beneath my feet, and I watched, frozen, as the rider reached up and removed his helmet.
Slowly. Deliberately. Like he had all the time in the world. Like he knew exactly what kind of fear he was inspiring.
The face that emerged made my blood run cold. Sharp features. Dark eyes that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. A scar running down his left cheek. He smiled, and it was the most terrifying thing I’d ever seen—all teeth and malice and cruel amusement.
“Hello, Brandy,” he said, his voice smooth and cold and utterly devoid of warmth. Like ice sliding down my spine. “Long time no see.”
And then it hit me. The realization crashed over me like ice water, sharp and unforgiving, stealing the breath from my lungs.
Of course. Of course this would happen now, after I’d just decided to go back.
After I’d just made the hardest decision of my life.
I’d just decided to fight for happiness, to believe I deserved Torment and my family and a future that didn’t involve running away from everything good in my life.
I’d just decided to stop sabotaging myself, to stop being my own worst enemy, to finally accept that maybe—just maybe—I was worthy of love and belonging.
And now this.
The universe punishing me for daring to hope. For daring to believe things could be different. For daring to think I could have something good without it being ripped away from me.
I took a step back, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought it might break through.
The sound of my own pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out everything else around me.
My hands were trembling, and I could feel cold sweat beginning to bead on my forehead.
Then I bumped into someone else—someone solid, unmovable, like hitting a brick wall.
Slowly turning my head, barely daring to breathe, I saw a vicious face smile down at me.
It wasn’t a friendly smile—it was predatory, calculating, like a wolf that had just cornered its prey.
The man’s eyes were cold and dark, studying me with an intensity that made my stomach drop.
As my eyes caught the insignia on his leather cut, everything suddenly made sense in the worst possible way...
Death Dogs MC. The patch was unmistakable—a snarling dog skull with crossed bones beneath it, worn like a badge of honor on the back of his vest.
My instincts were screaming at me to run, to get back inside the gas station, to scream for help at the top of my lungs.
But my body wouldn’t cooperate. My legs felt like they’d been filled with cement, heavy and useless.
I was frozen, paralyzed by the cold certainty in his eyes and the cruel smile on his lips—a smile that promised pain, that promised he was going to enjoy whatever came next.
“Don’t,” Stone said softly, his voice deceptively calm, almost gentle. Like he could read my mind. Like he knew exactly what I was thinking, could see the panic clawing its way up my throat. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
He swung his leg off the bike with practiced ease and stood, unfolding to his full height.
And I realized with sickening clarity that he was bigger than I’d thought, taller than I remembered.
Stronger. Dangerous in a way that made every instinct scream at me to run, to fight, to do anything but stand here like a deer caught in headlights.
But it was too late.
The trap had already sprung closed around me like iron jaws.
And I’d walked right into it, blind and stupid and desperate to believe the world could be kind.