Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kelsey
The world moves in slow motion as Boulder guides me through the warehouse, his arm around me like a shield.
I'm dimly aware of the men securing the area, of Sam's pale face as he follows us, of Benji being dragged along, zip-tied and bleeding.
But all I can really feel is Boulder's presence beside me, the gentle pressure of his hand at my waist, the soft words he murmurs against my hair.
"You're safe now. I've got you. No one's going to hurt you again."
The words blur together, but they wrap around me like a blanket, keeping me anchored when I feel like I might float away.
The adrenaline that kept me fighting is fading, leaving behind exhaustion and the sharp sting of pain from Benji's "attention."
Outside, the night air hits my face, cool and fresh compared to the stale warehouse.
Boulder helps me into an SUV, climbing in beside me, never breaking contact.
The cartel men load Benji into another vehicle, Sam joining them.
I catch his eye before the door closes, see the pain there, and feel a surge of gratitude for my baby brother.
"You okay?" Boulder asks, his voice low as the engine starts.
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.
"Get her checked out," she says to Boulder. "Ruby can take a look at her for now. Then we talk."
Boulder nods, guiding me toward the back room where the club handles medical issues.
Ruby meets us halfway, her medical kit already in hand.
"Let's get you patched up, honey," she says, her face kind, but I can tell she’s worried. "Those wrists need cleaning before they get infected. I’m sure Brick will check on you later, but you’ve got me for now."
Boulder helps me sit on a cot, then leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching Ruby work.
"Doesn't look like anything's broken," Ruby says as she cleans the abrasions on my wrists. "But you'll be sore for a while."
I wince as the antiseptic stings. "How's Rooster?"
"Out of surgery," Ruby says, her hands gentle as she wraps gauze around my wrists. "The bullet missed anything vital, thank God. He'll recover."
"And Python?" I ask.
"Banged up but okay. Alejandro's men found him at the northern warehouse, just like Sam said. Mostly minor injuries—broken nose, couple of cracked ribs, lots of bruising." She glances at Boulder. "He wanted to join the hunt for Lashes the second they cut him loose, but Astra convinced him to get checked out first."
The mention of Astra makes my stomach clench with guilt. "She was used as bait because of me."
Ruby shakes her head firmly. "Don't start that shit. None of this is on you."
"She's right," Boulder says from his position by the wall. "This is on Benji, Sally, and Andrés. Not you."
I don't argue, though the guilt remains.
Ruby finishes her exam, confirming nothing's broken, then leaves us me with painkillers and instructions to rest.
But rest isn't an option yet.
There's still too much happening, too many pieces to put together.
As soon as the door closes behind Ruby, Boulder crosses to sit beside me on the cot, taking my hands in his.
"You should sleep," he says, studying my face with concern. "You've been through hell."
"I can sleep when we find Lashes," I reply, meaning it. "Where are they keeping Benji?"
"Secure room at the back of the clubhouse," Boulder says, a cold edge entering his voice. "Amara wants to question him first before we decide what to do with him."
"I want to be there," I say.
Boulder's expression tells me he doesn't like the idea. "You don't need to see that."
"Yes, I do." I squeeze his hands. "He's my brother. This started with my family. I need to be there for the end of it."
He studies me for a long moment. "Okay. But you don't participate. You just watch. And if it gets to be too much, you leave. Promise me."
"I promise."
The door opens, and Astra appears, her face drawn with exhaustion.
She hesitates in the doorway, her eyes meeting mine.
For a moment, neither of us speak.
Then I'm on my feet, moving toward her.
"I'm so sorry," I start, but she cuts me off by pulling me into a fierce hug.
"Don't you dare apologize," she says fiercely. "None of this is your fault."
I hug her back, feeling tears threaten again. "They took Python because of me. They used you to get to me."
She pulls back, holding me at arm's length. "And I would have done the same thing if it had been you they'd taken. That's what family does." Her eyes shift to Boulder. "And you're family now, whether you meant to be or not."
The simple declaration hits hard—family.
Not by blood, but by choice.
Something I haven't had since I turned my father in.
Astra continues, her voice softening. "Python's asking for me. We still haven't found Lashes, but Amara has every resource looking. The boys from Alejandro's crew are checking all of Andrés' properties."
"We'll find her," Boulder says with quiet confidence.
Astra nods, then hugs me one more time before leaving to be with Python.
I stand there, processing her words.
Family.
"She's right, you know," Boulder says, coming to stand beside me. "You're part of this now. Not just because I claimed you, but because of who you are. How you've handled yourself."
I lean against him, too tired to stand on my own anymore. "I never expected to belong anywhere again. Not after everything."
His arm comes around me. "Families aren't just blood, Montana."
"I know that now," I whisper.
The interrogation of Benji is set to begin in church, the club's sacred meeting room.
Boulder leads me there, making sure I'm seated in a corner where I can observe without being directly in Benji's line of sight.
Amara sits at the head of the table, with Axel and Razor flanking her.
Python's seat remains empty—he's still with Astra—but Zorro is present, his weathered face grim.
Sam sits to one side, his head now properly bandaged, his eyes locked on the door through which they'll bring Benji.
The room falls silent as Doom and Brick lead Benji in, his hands cuffed behind his back.
He's been cleaned up somewhat, the blood washed from his face, but the gunshot wound in his shoulder remains untreated, deliberate I’d bet.
They force him into a chair at the opposite end of the table from Amara.
Benji's eyes scan the room, pausing briefly when he spots me, a cold smile spreading across his face.
"Family reunion," he says, his voice steady despite his situation. "How touching."
"You're not family," Sam says, his voice hard. "Not anymore."
Benji's smile doesn't falter. "Blood is blood, little brother. No matter how much you might wish otherwise."
Amara cuts in, her tone businesslike. "We're not here to discuss family shit. We want information about your arrangement with Sally Bernard and Andrés. Specifically, where they're keeping our prospect, Lashes."
Benji leans back in his chair, as casual as if he were at a business meeting rather than an interrogation. "And why would I help you?"
"Because how much you cooperate determines how painful the rest of your short life will be," Axel says bluntly.
I flinch at the words, though I knew what was coming.
Part of me still remembers Benji as my big brother, the one who taught me to ride a bike, who made pancakes on Sunday mornings when Mom was too sick to get out of bed.
But that Benji is long gone, replaced by this empty-eyed stranger who sits before us.
"Let me guess," Benji says, looking around the table. "You think torture will make me talk? That I'll break under pain?" He laughs, the sound hollow. "Our father taught us better than that."
"You killed Craig," I say, unable to stay silent anymore.
All eyes turn to me, but I keep my focus on Benji. "He was trying to help us. To do the right thing."
"There's no right or wrong in family business," Benji replies, his gaze boring into mine. "Only loyalty. Craig forgot that. Sam forgot that. And you, Cady—you were the first to betray us."
"I stopped a monster ," I say, rising to my feet even though Boulder has his hand on me, trying to keep me seated. "I stopped him from hurting more children."
Benji's face contorts with rage. "You destroyed everything he built! Everything that was meant to be ours!"
"An empire built on suffering," I shoot back. "Is that what you wanted your legacy to be, Benj? Is that what Mom would have wanted for you?"
The mention of our mother hits him like a slap in the face.
For a fraction of a second, I see something human flicker in his eyes.
"Don't talk about her," he says, his voice dropping dangerously low. "You don't get to use her against me."
"She would be disgusted by what you've become," I continue, moving closer as Boulder's hand moves up my arm. "By what Dad made you into. She loved us, Benji. All of us. She wanted us to be good people."
"And look where being good got you," he sneers. "Running for your life, hiding behind bikers for protection. At least I'm not a coward."
"No," Sam says, joining me. "You're just Dad's little fucking puppet. You always were. Never strong enough to think for yourself, to be your own man."
Benji lunges forward, but the cuffs hold him back. "I am my own man!" he roars. "Everything I've done, I've done for the family!"
"The family?" I ask quietly. "Or for Dad's approval? The approval he never gave any of us, not really."
Something breaks in Benji's expression, a crack in the mask he's worn for so long.
In that moment, I see the damaged boy beneath the monster—the child who never recovered from our mother's death, who was shaped by our father's cruel hands into a weapon.
"You want to know where your prospect is?" he asks, his voice suddenly weary. "Sally has her. Using her as insurance against the club. And Andrés..." He laughs bitterly. "Andrés is already dead, if Sally's plan worked. She never intended to share power with him. He was just a means to an end."
"Which is?" Amara asks sharply.
"Destroying your club," Benji says simply. "Starting with the Mexican charter, then circling back to Vegas, then Montana. She's been planning this for years, gathering intel, making connections. My partnership with her was just another piece of her plan."
"Where is Lashes being held?" Amara presses.
Benji considers for a moment, then sighs. "Sally has an estate outside the city. Heavily guarded, but that's where she'll be keeping your prospect, assuming she's still alive and Sally hasn’t decided to move her."
Boulder moves forward, standing protectively beside me. "And why should we believe you?"
Benji's eyes shift to me. "Because despite everything, I never wanted this for Cady. For any of us. This was Dad's vendetta, not mine. And I'm tired of carrying it for him."
The admission stuns me.
Is this a trick? Another manipulation?
Or is there actually something left of my brother in there?
"Address," Amara demands.
Benji recites it, his eyes never leaving mine.
When he finishes, Amara nods to Zorro, who leaves immediately to arrange a rescue party.
"What happens now?" I ask, the question directed at Amara but my eyes still on Benji.
"We verify his information," she replies. "If it checks out, if we find Lashes alive, then we'll discuss what happens to him." Her gaze shifts to Boulder. "Take Kelsey to get some rest. We'll handle things from here."
Boulder nods, sliding his arm around my waist. "Come on, Montana. You've done enough."
I let him lead me out, but not before looking back at Benji one last time.
He watches me go, his expression unreadable.
Is it regret I see there? Resignation? Or is he already planning his next move?
This has to be a trick. There’s no possible way he’d change his mind like that.
The exhaustion hits me like a wave as soon as we reach our room.
My legs give out, and he catches me easily, lifting me onto the bed.
The familiar scent of his sheets—leather, soap, and something else I can never quite place—wraps around me, comforting like a warm blanket.
"Sleep," he says, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I'll wake you if there's news about Lashes."
"Stay with me," I whisper, gripping his hand. "Please."
He hesitates, glancing toward the door. "I should help with the preparations for?—"
"Just until I fall asleep," I whisper, hating the neediness in my voice but unable to suppress it. "I don't want to be alone right now."
His expression softens, and he kicks off his boots before stretching out beside me.
I curl against him immediately, my head on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.
"You were incredible in there," he says after a moment, his hand stroking my hair. "Standing up to him like that."
"I just wanted to understand," I admit. "To see if any part of my brother was actually still in there."
"And was it?"
I think about the flicker of humanity I saw, the weariness in Benji's admission. "Maybe. A little. But I don't know if it's enough to save him."
Boulder's arms tighten around me. "That's not your responsibility, Kelsey. You've done more than enough."
"Craig died trying to help me," I say, the grief welling up again. "Sam nearly died too. And Rooster, and Python, and Lashes might still be?—"
"Stop," Boulder interrupts, his voice gentle but firm. "This isn't your fault. None of it."
"But they came after all of you because of me ."
Boulder shifts, rolling until he's looking down at me, his eyes intense. "They came after us because they're our enemies. Because Sally has had it out for the club for years. Your connection to it just gave them an excuse, not a reason."
I want to believe him. I want to shed this weight of guilt that's become so familiar.
"You saved me," I whisper instead. "Again."
His hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing the bruise Benji left. "And I always will. That's what happens when you're claimed."
The word hangs between us.
Claimed.
What started as protection, as a ruse, has become something neither of us expected.
"Is that what I am?" I ask, needing to hear him say it. "Claimed? Truly?"
Boulder's eyes darken, his thumb still stroking my cheek. "Yes, we’ve established this already, Montana. You’re mine to protect, mine to care for." He pauses, something vulnerable flashing across his face. "Mine to love, if you'll let me."
The words steal my breath.
Love.
Such a simple word for such a complex emotion.
I never expected to hear it from him, the man who swore he'd never want an old lady.
"Boulder—"
"You don't have to say anything," he rushes on. "I know this started as protection. I know that wasn't what either of us planned. But somewhere along the way, you became more. Essential. Like breathing."
Tears fill my eyes, not from pain this time, but from the realization that I feel the same way.
That somewhere between Montana and Mexico, between one crisis and another, I fell in love with this complicated, protective, surprisingly tender man.
"I love you too," I whisper, the words coming easily. "I think I have for a while now."
The smile that breaks across his face is like sunrise after the longest night.
He leans down, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that's gentle, reverent, mindful of my injuries but no less passionate for it.
When we break apart, he rests his forehead against mine. "We'll find Lashes," he promises. "We'll end this thing with Sally. And then we'll figure out what comes next. Together."
"Together," I agree, the word feeling like a vow.
As sleep finally claims me, I'm aware of Boulder's steady presence beside me, his warmth a shield against the nightmares that would otherwise come.
For the first time since I found those DVDs in my father's closet, I feel something like peace.
I'm not running anymore.
I'm not alone.
I am claimed, in every sense of the word, and I wouldn't have it any other way.