Chapter 11 - The Boy’s Stand
The clearing went dead silent except for the heavy panting of the wounded men in the mud. Silas slowly turned his head toward the cabin porch, his grin widening into a sickening mask of amusement.
"Well, look at that," Silas whispered. "The cub thinks he’s got claws."
Leo’s small arms trembled violently under the weight of the steel revolver. His skin was gray, his knees knocking against each other, but his hazel eyes burned with pure, unyielding defiance. "Let... let my dad go."
"He’s not your dad, kid," Silas taunted, taking a slow step toward the porch stairs. "He abandoned you before you took your first breath. He left you to rot."
"He came back!" Leo screamed.
Silas took another step, raising the tire iron. "He came back to die with you."
That was the mistake Silas made. He looked away from Jax.
With an animal roar, Jax surged upward from the mud, grabbing Silas by the back of his leather collar and dragging him down into the dirt. They crashed against the cabin's stone foundations. Jax slammed his forehead into Silas’s nose, shattering bone and cartilage in a burst of crimson. Silas swung the tire iron wildly, catching Jax across the shoulder, but the pain meant nothing now.
Jax pinned Silas’s arms, his hands locking around the throat of the man who had destroyed his family.
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"This is for Sarah," Jax growled, his thumbs pressing into Silas’s trachea.
Silas choked, his hands clawing helplessly at Jax’s scarred forearms, his boots kicking the dirt until his eyes bulged and his struggles grew faint. But as Jax leaned in for the final snap, the unmistakable sound of a rifle bolt locking into place sounded from the treeline ten yards away.
