Page 150 of Boulder's Weight

I've told her about the patching ceremony, about Lashes being trafficked, but not about what's going to happen to Benji.

Not yet.

"I'm so proud of you," she says, her fingers tracing the new patch on my cut. "You've earned this."

"Couldn't have done it without you," I admit, pulling her closer. "You changed everything for me, and I mean everything."

She looks up at me, confusion in her eyes. "How? By bringing trouble to your door?"

I shake my head, cupping her face in my hands. "By making me see there's more to life than just the club. By showing me what it means to care about someone else more than myself."

She leans into my touch, her eyes closing briefly. "What happens now?"

"Now we find Lashes," I say, though I know it will be a nearly impossible task. "And we deal with your brother."

Her eyes open, wariness entering them. "What does that mean? Deal with him how?"

I take a deep breath, knowing she deserves the truth. "The club voted. We're taking his hands. And his feet. He'll live, but he'll never hurt anyone again."

She goes very still in my arms. "When?"

"Tomorrow. At the warehouse."

She nods slowly, processing this. "I want to be there."

"Kelsey—"

"He's my brother," she interrupts. "I need to see it. I need to know it's done."

I understand closure and all, but this is asinine. "No. Fuck no. I’m not letting you see that shit."

"Barron, I swear to God?—"

I don’t hold back. "No, Montana. I love you. You’re the light of my fuckin’ life, but I’m not going to let you see this shit." I pull her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "Trust me, please. Drop this."

She’s quiet for a few moments but ultimately gives in. "Fine," she breathes.

Tomorrow, we'll deal with Benji. We'll start the search for Lashes. We'll face whatever comes next.

But tonight, I have everything I need right here in my arms.

My patch. My woman. My family.

CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE

Boulder

The warehouse sits on the edge of town, far enough from civilization that no one will hear what happens inside.

It's an old property Alejandro lets us use, used for storage mostly, but occasionally for other things.

Things that require privacy. Things like this.

I park my bike outside, sitting for a moment to collect my thoughts.

The weight of what I'm about to do settles on my shoulders.

It’s not like I’m a newcomer to being violent. I’ve done everything you can imagine.

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