Page 62 of Burned in Stone
“My parents.” Her voice is flat. “Seventeen missed calls. Twenty-seven texts.”
She shows me the screen. The messages get progressively worse:
Mercedes, this is your mother. Gabriel called. We know what you’re doing.
How could you abandon your marriage for some criminal?
You’re destroying your life.
Your father is disgusted.
Come home immediately and fix this.
We didn’t raise you to be a biker’s plaything.
That last one makes me see red. “Angel?—”
“They’ve never been on my side,” she says quietly. “Not once. When I told them Gabriel was controlling, they said I was being dramatic. When I filed for divorce, they said I was giving up too easily. And now...”
“Now they’re showing you exactly who they are.” I take the phone from her, set it aside. “You don’t owe them anything.”
“They’re my parents.”
“No. Parents protect their kids. Support them. These people? They’re just DNA donors who happen to have Gabriel’s number.”
She laughs, but it’s bitter. “When you put it like that...”
“Block them.”
“Cash—”
“I’m serious. They’re choosing your abuser over you. They don’t deserve access to your life.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. Then she picks up the phone, goes to her parents’ numbers, and blocks them both.
“There,” she says, tossing the phone aside. “No more family.”
“Wrong.” I pull her close. “You’ve got more family than ever. It’s just the kind you choose, not the kind you’re stuck with.”
She burrows into me, and I hold her tight, wishing I could shield her from every hurt, every betrayal, every person who should have protected her and didn’t.
But I can’t change the past. All I can do is make sure her future is different.
And I will. Whatever it takes.
Even if it means going to war with a cop who has the system on his side. Even if it means putting the club at risk. Even if it means sacrificing the control I’ve spent years building to keep myself safe.
Because Mercy’s worth it. She’s worth fighting for, consequences be damned.
I don’t know that I’ll ever be a good man. But I’m her man. And that’s how I know what she needs.
21
MERCY
The thrashing wakes me first. Then the low, desperate sound that’s almost a whimper. Cash is twisted in the sheets beside me, his face contorted in the pale light.
“No. Please. I don’t—” His voice is small, scared. Nothing like the confident man who held me in the bathtub hours ago.
