Page 126 of Boulder's Weight

"...shipment arrives at midnight..."

"...Sally confirmed Boulder's location..."

My blood runs cold at the mention of Boulder's name.

Whatever they're planning, he's part of it.

Benji returns, a tablet in his hand.

He positions it on a small table in front of me, the screen facing away so I can't see it.

"Your boyfriend and his club think they're so clever," he says conversationally, adjusting something on the tablet. "Watching empty buildings, following false leads. Meanwhile, the real action is happening right under their noses."

"Boulder will find me," I say, more confidently than I feel. "And when he does?—"

"He'll what?" Benji cuts me off. "Save you? Kill me?" He laughs again, that empty sound that raises the hair on my arms. "He's walking into a trap, Cady. By the time he realizes it, it'll be too late. For him, for his club, for you."

"Why are you doing this?" I ask, desperately trying to keep him talking, to learn anything that might help Boulder and the club. "It's been years. I'm not a threat to you anymore."

"You think this is just about you?" Benji shakes his head. "It's about what you represent. Betrayal. Weakness. Everything our father taught us to destroy." He leans closer. "But mostly, it's about sending a message. To anyone who might think they can cross the Warlow family and live to tell about it."

"There is no Warlow family anymore," I say. "Dad's in prison. I'm gone. Sam's gone. It's just you, Benji. You and whatever's left of Craig."

Something shifts in Benji's expression—a flicker of something that makes him seem human.

"Funny you should mention Craig," he says, his voice chillingly calm. "Your other brother has been quite busy lately. Making phone calls when he thinks I'm not around. Having secret meetings with your biker boyfriend."

My heart skips a beat, but I fight to keep my expression neutral. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Benji smiles, seeing through my lie instantly. "Sure you do. Craig thought he could play both sides. Thought he could help you against me." He taps the tablet screen. "Would you like to see what happens to traitors in our family?"

Before I can respond, he turns the tablet toward me, pressing play on a video.

The footage is grainy, shot in low light, but I immediately recognize Craig, tied to a chair not unlike the one I'm sitting in now.

His face is bloody, one eye swollen shut.

He's saying something, pleading, but there's no sound.

Then a figure moves into frame—Benji, holding what looks like a hammer.

I can't look away as he raises it, as it comes down on Craig's hand, again and again.

Craig's mouth opens in a silent scream.

"No," I whisper, bile rising in my throat. "Stop it. Please."

Benji pauses the video, Craig's agonized face frozen on the screen. "He thought he could be the hero," he says coldly. "Thought he could save you. But in our family, traitors don't get happy endings."

"You killed him," I breathe, horror washing over me.

"Eventually," Benji confirms, pocketing the tablet. "But not before he told me everything. About the club's surveillance on the warehouse. About Boulder's little visit to your apartment. About Sam's escape to the clubhouse." His lip curls in disgust. "He folded so easily. Always was the weakest of us all."

Tears burn in my eyes, not just for Craig's suffering, but for the humanity he found too late, the courage it must have taken to stand against Benji, knowing what would happen.

"You're fucking sick," I say, voice shaking with rage and grief. "You're just like Dad."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Benji says, straightening his jacket. "Now, we need to make a call. Your boyfriend will be worried about you." He nods to one of the guards, who steps forward with a phone. "I think it's time we invited him to join our family reunion."

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