Born of Fire

A muscle worked in Digger’s jaw. “People are as sorry as the day is long. And if he didn’t kill and torture that bitch for doing all that to him, believe me he’s a better man than I ever was, cause I would have cut her throat and made her son watch her bleed out at my feet.”


A shiver went down her spine at his vivid description. But she understood. He was right. And at the moment, she wanted to help him do it. How could anyone be so wrong . . . ? How could they squander something she’d sell her soul to have?

That kind of loyalty and love couldn’t be bought or bartered or demanded. It could only be given, and it was a rare, rare thing.

What a stupid bitch . . . and she didn’t use that language lightly. But in this case, there was no other way to phrase her feelings.

Digger drew a ragged breath. “Sorry to be so morbid in front of you, Shahara, but injustice has always sat ill with me. My nephew is a damned good man and has never deserved the misery life has put him through. It sickens me to see him keep paying for things he didn’t do. I just wish someone other than me could see that. Just once.”

She well understood those sentiments.

It put her own life in a terrifying perspective and she couldn’t believe she’d ever complained about anything other than Gaelin—that’s what Syn’s ex-wife deserved. Someone like him, another worthless user who preyed on people, tore apart their dreams and left them shattered.

And Digger was right. Syn was a better man than even she was. Cause she’d hunted down Gaelin once she was trained, and had killed him for beating and raping her. She’d told herself it was to keep him from doing it to another teenage girl. That she did it to keep Caillen from ruining his life because he would have killed him had he ever found him.

But inside, she knew the real truth. She’d done it for vengeance. She’d wanted him to know the horror and degradation he’d given her. To beg her for her mercy while she took none on him.

To be fair, in the end, she was a little better than him. At least she hadn’t laughed at his pain.

What’s the matter, baby? You want some more of what I got? Let me show you what a real man can do.

That mocking endearment. It’s why she still couldn’t stand for anyone to call her baby, especially in that patronizing tone he’d used. She’d only been a scared child . . . afraid that he’d leave her and go to her sisters, who were sleeping at her condo, and do to them what he was doing to her. He’d relished every hour he’d tortured her.

Until then, she’d fancied herself in love with him. And when she’d asked him why he’d done it . . .

I take what I want, baby. That’s what a man does. You done gave me all your money. You want me nice. Get some more and come see me. He’d tossed her torn clothes at her. Now get out. You call the enforcers on me, and I promise you I’ll see you and those other little whore sisters of yours in the ground.

At seventeen, she’d been forced to walk home with no money, in torn clothes. Bleeding and hurt. No one had even stopped to ask her if she needed help. They’d only stared at her or hurried away as if afraid her condition might rub off on them. Meanwhile, because she didn’t have money and couldn’t be treated for it, she’d lost her ability to have children that day.

And she’d lost a whole lot more . . .

That was why she’d killed him. The other reasons only made it easier for her to swallow that dark side of her personality that she wanted to pretend didn’t exist.

So she knew exactly where Syn was coming from. What she didn’t know was how he could forgive either of them.

How he could forgive her.

“How old was Paden when . . .”

“Seven when Sheridan left. He graduated from school last year. Wouldn’t see Sheridan even though he tried, but he’s taking all the money Sheridan sends him for his prestigious university classes.” He curled his lip. “Kid ain’t never held a job a day in his life while he lives off Sheridan’s trust fund. Worthless little bastard . . .”

He sighed. “But there’s nothing I can do and, as Sheridan says, it ain’t none of my business what he does with his kid.” He rose to his feet and stood before her, arms akimbo. “By the way, do you know how many times I watched him get beat protecting little Talia? He weren’t no bigger than my knee and he’d stand against his father who was even taller than Sher is now. Sheridan would hold up his little fists and stand like a man while his Indie bounced him off furniture and walls until he lost consciousness.” His eyes turned dull, sad. “I never understood how a father could hurt his children so.”

Grimacing at the image, she thought about the photograph she’d found of Syn and Talia in his prayer box. Even though he’d protected his sister didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of hurting someone else. Caillen protected the three of them and she couldn’t even begin to count how many women he’d treated like dirt.

All the people he’d lied to and the laws he’d broken . . .