Page 65 of Boulder's Weight

The abruptness of the command catches me off guard. "What? No, I can't?—"

"This isn't a request, Kelsey." His use of my new name feels deliberate. "I'm not leaving you alone when there's a clear threat. Someone knows who you are, and they're trying to expose you to me."

Fear grips me so tightly I can barely breathe. "But why now? Why would someone tell you?"

"I don't know yet, but I intend to find out." His voice softens slightly. "The clubhouse is secure. You'll be safe there until we figure this out."

I want to argue, to insist I can handle this on my own, like I've been handling everything since I turned my father in.

But the truth is, I'm tired.

Tired of running, tired of looking over my shoulder, tired of facing this alone.

"Let me grab some things," I say finally, moving toward the bedroom.

Boulder follows, his presence feeling more protective than anything. "Just essentials to get you through the night. We can come back for more things tomorrow."

I nod, grabbing a backpack from the closet.

As I stuff clothes into it, my mind is going a mile a minute.

Who sent that message? Was it one of my brothers?

If it wasn’t… how did they know about Boulder?

The text message to him wasn't random—someone wanted him to know who I really was. But, it also wasn’t signed like Benji has been doing.

As I reach under the mattress for my emergency cash, my fingers brush against the small metal case hidden there.

I hesitate, then pull it out, slipping it into an inside pocket of the backpack.

Proof of my brothers’ involvement in the family business, in case I needed it.

Things have slowed down a lot for them since our father was put in prison, and if I have to turn this in, I will.

Sam has asked I give him time to try to get Benji and Craig to stop… so I’ll give him a little longer, but if they come for me I will end it all.

"Kelsey." The urgency in Boulder’s voice pulls me back to the present. "We need to go. Now."

I follow his gaze to the window, where he's pulled back the curtain just enough to peer outside.

My blood freezes when I see what he's looking at.

A black Ford F-150 is parked across the street—the same truck I thought I saw following me days ago. Craig's truck.

"Is that?—"

"Yeah," I whisper, zipping up the backpack with shaking hands. "That's Craig's truck. Same dent in the passenger door."

Boulder's expression hardens. "Back door. Stay behind me. Move fast, stay quiet."

I nod, slinging the backpack over my shoulder. This isn't my first escape in the dead of night, but it's the first time I haven't been alone.

Boulder leads me through the dark apartment, gun now visible in his hand.

The sight of it should terrify me, but instead, I’m calm.

This man—this dangerous, complicated man—is standing between me and the monsters of my past.

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