Page 29 of The Bane of a Sinner
“He is his father’s son,” the man said cryptically, looking at me. “But then again, you would know all about his father, wouldn’t you?”
Frowning, I said, “Excuse me? I thought you were his father.”
“Sinclair,” Shame growled. “She knows nothing. That’s not why we’re here.”
Sinclair’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking toward the hallway where Dante had vanished. The room seemed colder now, the echoes of laughter replaced by a heavy silence. Shame moved to stand between us, his posture defensive, his eyes wary—like he expected secrets to slip free at the slightest provocation.
I glanced at Sin, searching his expression for some hint of truth, but he kept his lips pressed into a stubborn line. Whatever history lay tangled between these men, it was none of my business.
At least, not yet.
Shame exhaled, his voice softer but no less resolute. “We need to talk. Now.”
I hesitated but followed Sinclair down the dim corridor. Shadows crept across the worn floorboards. A door closed somewhere behind us with a hollow thud, sealing away the warmth of Dante’s smile.
Sinclair led the way, his movements tense and deliberate. For a brief moment, I wondered what burdens he carried that made brooding seem so effortless. What secrets did he keep that kept his heart at arm’s length? I found myself following, my curiosity piqued. The air felt heavier as we ventured further, the silence oppressive. I glanced at Shame, his face a mask of controlled impatience, but he said nothing, his eyes remaining fixed ahead. The office loomed before us, an ominous sanctuary of secrets. As we entered, the weight of the room pressed down, the shadows seeming to close in, curious sentinels guarding whatever truths lay hidden here.
Sinclair moved to the large, dark wood desk, his fingers trailing along its surface as he took his seat. He seemed to relax slightly, his posture becoming less rigid, but his eyes remained intense, a storm brewing within their icy depths. Ifelt like an intruder, an interloper about to uncover something deeply personal, and I almost wished to turn back, to leave this mysterious man to his solitude. But it was too late for that now.
With a subtle gesture, Sinclair invited us to sit, his gaze never wavering. I felt Shame’s tension beside me, a tangible thing, and knew that whatever was about to be revealed would change the course of this encounter. The silence stretched, a challenge in itself, before Sinclair finally spoke, his voice a low rumble that filled the room. “Now,” he began, his eyes narrowing, “tell me why you are here.”
“I need your help to get Diana out of the city,” Shame stated. “I would do it, but the second I’m gone, they will know something is up.”
“And why should I help you when you haven’t even done what you were hired to do?”
Shame groaned. “I said it would take some time, Sinclair. I can’t look for your son and search for Thena while keeping my eyes on Stone and the Soulless Sinners. Eventually, he will fuck up, and when he does, I need to be there for the fallout.”
Sinclair leaned back in his leather wingback chair and took a long look at me before saying, “And what about the boy?”
Confused, I looked at Shame. “What boy? What’s he talking about?”
Shame sneered, “I said she doesn’t know anything, Sinclair.”
Sinclair grinned. “Then maybe it’s time you informed her who the father of her child is.”
I gasped, my hand instinctively going to my stomach protectively. “What is he talking about, Shame?”
“You will learn soon enough that I have eyes and ears everywhere, my dear,” Sinclair simply replied, then added, “I hear congratulations are in order. A son.”
Looking between the two men, I frowned, sitting up straighter. “What the hell is going on?”
“Leave it alone, Sinclair. I mean it. If anything happens to her, Bane will kill you.”
“He can try.” The man smirked.
“ENOUGH!” I shouted as I glared at the two men. “What the hell is going on? What don’t I know?”
“This is about Dante, my dear.”
“Sinclair, stop,” Shame growled, reaching for his gun.
Sinclair rose from his chair, a menacing glare evident on his face as he very meticulously chose his next words. “I’d be very careful, Mr. Peterson. You are not without fault. Shall I inform her of your crimes as well?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about your allegiance to your brother, Jude Peterson, but more importantly, that you are a sleeper for the—”
“Finish that sentence, and I won’t think twice before I pull the fucking trigger.” Shame’s eyes blazed with fury, his hand tightening around the gun in his hand. Sinclair, unfazed by the threat, met his gaze with a steely calm, as Shame whispered another threat. “You know I can be just as dangerous as my brother, perhaps even more so. This is your last warning.”
