Forged in Fire (Forgotten Series, #2)

Chapter Five

I was staring at the wood of my desk. It had been three days since Bennett and Maricella had arrived. Benji hadn't said anything about the meeting tomorrow. I was trying to focus on everything but Doc Howard stood in front of me. He wasn't telling me what I wanted to hear but I knew what I wanted to hear would never pass his lips. His voice was a continued murmur in my head and I shook myself a little to force myself to focus. I didn't want to but as his words finally registered I knew I had to.

"So you are saying she has less than a year?" The words were croaked out and he pressed his lips into a thin line, sympathy practically radiated off of him as he nodded.

"With how her mind is deteriorating her body just can't handle it. She has about eight months left, maybe even less." Each of his words was like a sharp spike through my heart. I didn't want to hear that bullshit. I truly didn't but it didn't make it any less true. My mother had regressed once more. She couldn't even remember them leaving and now constantly asked where they were and we had to lie to her again and again.

"There is nothing we can do." It wasn't a question. It was a statement of my worst fears and Doc Howard let out a sigh.

"I wish there was, Alpha Sterling, but there is no magic pill to make this go away, to make her better." He shook his head slightly and I dropped mine into my hands. I was running out of time with her and I wanted to cry. My mother, the female who had birthed me, raised me, was going to die and there was nothing I could do to stop it. "I am truly sorry. Just keep doing what you are doing. Keep her happy and comfortable." With that he left me alone.

I could hear Michael and Ezekiel whining at me, nudging me with their muzzles. They were trying to get me to respond but I was frozen. My worst fears had been confirmed. She wouldn't last the year. She wouldn't live long enough to hold her grandchildren. She never had a chance to be a grandmother like I never had a chance to be an uncle. Rage, hot and burning, soared through me and I let it. I needed to let it.

"Get out." I said the words low as I rubbed my face. Ezekiel whined and nudged at my arm and I lowered my arm before staring at him. The rage was hot under my skin, it was burning me up and I wanted it to. He shrunk from my gaze. "Get. Out." My voice shook with rage and his claws skittered on the floor as both he and Michael left the room. I stood up slowly, trying my hardest to hold back as I moved to the door and closed it softly, turning the lock quickly.

My wolf howled in my head battering relentlessly against me. He needed it. I needed it. I felt my breathing grow heavier. My mum would die and I was too useless to do anything about it. She would grow weaker and weaker. Her memory would grow worse until she forgot who I was. The anger was sharp and biting and I let it consume me. I took two strides to the nearest chair, my chest heaving before I picked up the heavy piece of furniture and hurled it against the bookcase with a roar of rage.

The sound of splintering wood barely registered as I grabbed a lamp and hurled it against the wall. The glass body shattered as I let out another soundless roar. Life had kicked my mother so much it was killing her. She never got to hold grandchildren. She never got to be a doting mate-mother. She never got to say good bye to her husband or her two beloved sons and I had been left to deal with the aftermath.

I yanked one of the old, heavy bookshelves away from the wall and practically threw it part way across the room with another cry of rage and there was a loud boom as it landed. My wolf loved the destruction. He wanted things to be broken but the lifeless furniture lacked blood and he wanted blood on our hands and in our mouth. He wanted to rip and tear flesh until the problem was solved but we both knew the problem was impossible to solve.

I turned to the newly cleared wall and punched it over and over again until plaster fell from the wall, leaving wooden slats exposed. I kept punching until my fist screamed with pain. Each blow getting harder than the last until I pulled back and picked up a chair and threw it through one of the window. The shouts and cries of rage were endless as I destroyed everything I could get my hands on.