Page 58 of Boulder's Weight

"I'm sorry about the delay," I say, keeping my tone respectful but not submissive. "What's the plan?"

"The plan was for you to be here when I fucking called you," she snaps. "Not to have Lashes cover your shit and then not answer your damn phone."

I hold my ground. "There was an issue. Someone needed me."

"I don't want to hear that shit," Amara cuts me off. "Club comes first. Always. Or have you forgotten that part of being a prospect?"

"No, ma'am," I say, swallowing my pride. "It won't happen again. Just tell me what you need me to do now."

Amara studies me for a long moment, then sighs. "We're hitting back. Andrés has a warehouse on the outskirts of town where he stores his merchandise. We're going to pay it a visit. You in?"

"Absolutely," I say without hesitation. "Put me on the front line."

She nods, some of the anger fading from her eyes. "Gear up. We leave in ten."

I join the others preparing to leave, checking the Glock that Python hands me and slipping extra magazines into my pockets.

It helps focus my mind, pushing thoughts of Kelsey to the background.

Axel sidles up beside me, his eyes knowing. "That new girl at the café, huh? Seems like she's distracting you."

I tense, my hands stilling on the weapon. "Don't know what you're talking about."

He laughs, the sound low. "Come on, brother. Your face gives it away. She must be something special to have you missing club calls."

"She's just easy pussy," I say, but the defensiveness in my tone reveals everything.

Axel raises an eyebrow but says nothing more, moving away to join Razor near the door.

I finish my preparations, annoyed at how easily he can read me.

I need to get my head straight before this mission.

The club has to come first, always.

We roll out in formation, three trucks and four bikes, heading toward the industrial zone where Andrés's warehouse is located.

The plan is simple: show we have strength in numbers, destroy his merchandise, leave a message that the club is not to be fucked with.

As we approach, adrenaline begins to surge through my veins, the familiar pre-action rush that clears my mind of everything except the mission.

This is what I'm good at.

This is why I joined the club.

The warehouse comes into view, a plain concrete building with a loading dock and minimal security.

Apparently, Andrés doesn't expect retaliation so soon.

What a fucking idiot.

We hit hard and fast. Python and two other members take out the guards while Axel and I breach the side entrance.

Inside, we find stacks of counterfeit merchandise—designer clothes, watches, handbags—Andrés's legitimate cover business.

"Find anything that burns," Axel orders, already pulling out his lighter. "Let's send a message."

I grab a can of paint thinner from a supply shelf and begin dousing the merchandise.

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