Page 138 of Boulder's Weight

His fingers probe gently at the bruise forming on my cheek, his expression darkening.

"I'll live," I manage, my voice raspier than I expected. I clear my throat. "Sam?"

"He's okay. Head injury, but he'll heal." Boulder's arm tightens around me. "What about you? What did he do to you?"

I look up and down, now that I can breathe again.

My wrists are raw from the restraints, my ribs ache where one of Andrés' men shoved me, and my face throbs from Benji's backhands.

But there's nothing that won't heal.

"Just rough handled a little bit," I say, leaning into his warmth. "I'm okay."

Boulder makes a sound low in his throat that reminds me of a growl. "Every mark, Kelsey. Every single one."

I know what he means.

Every mark on my body will be repaid to Benji.

Part of my stomach churns at the thought—he's still my brother, even after everything.

But a darker part, the part that watched Sam bleeding on the café floor, that saw the cruel emptiness in Benji's eyes, whispers that he deserves whatever's coming plus some.

"Boulder," I say, needing to ask while we're alone. "Craig... is he really...?"

His face tightens. "Yeah. I'm so sorry, Montana."

The news knocks the air from my lungs.

Craig, my middle brother, who stood with Benji for so long but finally tried to do the right thing.

The one who kept photos of our mother, drawings from my childhood, who paid the ultimate price for trying to help me.

Tears burn my eyes, spilling down my cheeks before I can stop them.

Boulder pulls me closer, letting me bury my face against his chest as the sobs come.

He doesn't offer empty words, doesn't try to tell me it will be okay.

He just holds me, one hand stroking my hair, the other keeping me anchored against him.

By the time we reach the clubhouse, I've cried myself out.

I feel hollow, scraped raw, but somehow clearer.

The club is alive with activity even though it’s late.

Everyone’s moving around, and I look up at Boulder. "Your bike, I saw it at the warehouse. Do we need to?—"

He immediately shakes his head, "No, one of the cartel boys will ride it back for me. I needed to be here with you, so that’s where I’m staying."

This isn't just about me anymore—this is club business now, with Python hurt and Lashes still missing.

Boulder helps me out of the SUV, keeping me tucked against his side as we head inside.

In the main room, Amara is dishing out orders, her voice steady as she assigns tasks.

She pauses when she sees us, relief briefly softening her features.

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