Page 250 of Forged in the Fire
He slowly swiveled around on his motorcycle boots.
“You’re just seeing thefilth, Meems. It doesn’t have a thing to do with the cut.” He basically sneered it.
He watched the pain slash across her face, and he shifted on his feet, the regret that tried to flutter up squashed by the anger that had become his constant partner.
“You know better than that, Silas Mercer. We all choose our paths, and the one you’re traveling down right now is the wrong one.”
He scoffed. “I started down this path two years ago, and there’s no getting off it.”
Because the path he’d chosen had killed his mother.
“You made a mistake, Silas, but it’s in your power to stop making it. This isn’t what your mother would want from you.”
“I’m thinking what my mother would actuallywantis to be alive.”
Grief speared through her being, her features aged by at least a decade over the last year.
He hated it.
That he caused it.
That he was the one who’d destroyed their lives.
His brother and sister without a mother.
Living in this shithole of a house in LA since it was close to Meems’s sister and she was going to help out.
Their financial situation far worse than it’d ever been.
But that was the one thing he could do something about. That and avenging his mother.
He’d run into this guy named Deke who introduced him to the club’s vice president, Trent.
They stood for everything he needed.
Power and brutality.
He was going to need it when he finally hunted these motherfuckers down. It wouldn’t be wise to take them all on himself, though he would if he had to.
It wasn’t like he could get any information from his father.
That piece of shit had disappeared that night.
Fucking coward.
Silas guessed the guy was lucky because if that bastard showed his face, Silas would end him himself.
He had no names, but he did know some of the shipments had been coming out of California. He figured if he got in deep enough, he might be able to uncover who they were.
Even if it took fucking years.
Because he wasn’t leaving this life until he buried them.
“What your mother would want is her children flourishing. Thriving even after she’s gone because she already instilled her belief and hope in them.”
Silas’s heart throbbed, mangled and torn, every beat distorted. He rubbed the spot over it like he could stop the bleeding.
“You know she wouldn’t want this for you,” Meems continued, “and I don’t, either. She loved you more than life, Silas, and as her mother, asyourgrandmother, I’m begging you not to do this.”
