Page 132 of Boulder's Weight

"Wait," I say quickly. "I want proof she'll still be alive when I get there."

There's a moment of silence, then: "Fine. I'll send a live video link with the coordinates. But the clock starts ticking when you receive it. One hour, prospect. Don't be late."

The call ends. The room remains silent for a moment, everyone processing what we've just heard.

Amara turns to Axel, eyes focused. "Did you get it?"

Axel shakes his head. "Bounced all over the place. Best we got was a general area—an industrial district on the east side of the city."

"It's a trap," Razor says, stating the obvious. "He wants you isolated from the club."

"Of course it's a fuckin’ trap," I reply, already moving toward the doorway. "But he has Kelsey. And he's working with Andrés and Sally, who have Python and Lashes. I'm going."

Amara steps in front of me, her eyes hard. "Not alone you're not. We do this smart or we don't do it at all."

"You heard him. He sees anyone but me, Kelsey dies." The thought of Benji hurting her makes my blood boil, my hands itch for violence.

"And if you show up alone, you both die," Amara counters. "Think, Boulder. This is a coordinated attack against the club. Against all of us. We respond as a club, and we use the resources my blood gives us. The cartel backs us. The Ramirez blood flowing through my veins gives us an advantage—we need to fucking use it!"

She's right, and I know it, though every instinct screams at me to ride out immediately, to find Kelsey and tear apart anyone who stands in my way.

"What's the plan then?" I ask, forcing myself to focus.

Amara turns to the map on the table. "We assume the locations are connected. Python and Lashes are likely being held where Andrés' operations are regularly based. Kelsey's with Benji, possibly at a separate location."

She circles several areas on the map. "Based on our intel and what Axel traced from the call, we're looking at three potential areas, but maybe in the general vicinity of one another. We split into teams, coordinate by radio. Boulder, you make the meet with Benji, but you'll have backup close by—undetectable but ready to move. I’m using my uncle’s men for this. It’ll look like regular cartel activity and hopefully Benji is too stupid to realize it."

"And if he checks?" I ask.

"Then you better be damn convincing when you tell him you came alone," she replies sharply. "This isn't a debate, prospect. We move as a club or not at all."

For a moment, I consider defying her, taking my bike and heading out on my own.

"Fine," I give in. "But I lead the team going after Kelsey."

"Naturally even though I wouldn’t give any other prospect this much leeway," Amara agrees. "Ramiro, Ismael, Marco and César will be with you, they are trained very well."

I turn to Sam, who has pushed himself up from the cot, clutching his bandaged head. "You're in no condition?—"

"She's my sister," Sam interrupts, his voice stronger than it's been. "If you're going after her, so am I." His eyes meet mine, filled with the same determination we all feel. We all want our people back, safe and sound. "I know Benji better than anyone else here. You need me."

I can't argue with that logic, but he’s hurt, bad. "Can you shoot?"

Sam nods grimly. "Just point me at the right target."

My phone buzzes with an incoming text. Everyone in the room tenses as I check it.

Coordinates, as promised, along with a video link. I tap it, and the screen fills with Kelsey's face.

She's bound to a chair, a cut on her cheek showing where Benji has likely struck her during our call.

But her eyes are alert, defiant.

The sight of her hurt makes my chest feel like it's being crushed in a vise.

Behind her stands a man I recognize from the photos Sam has shared—Benji.

He looks at the camera, smiling coldly. "Clock's ticking, prospect," he says, then the feed cuts off.

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