Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Boulder
The clubhouse is quiet, oddly quiet considering how many people are packed inside.
The kind of quiet that settles before something insane happens, like the calm before a storm.
I'm leaning against the wall of church, watching Amara run through the final details of our run on Sally Bernard's compound.
The intel Benji provided checks out—satellite imagery confirms heavy security around an estate outside the city limits.
I’m not foolish enough to believe he did it out of the goodness of his heart.
He gave us this information for a reason, to save his life more than likely.
"We move first thing in the morning," Amara says, her finger tracing the route on the map spread across the table. "Three teams. Zorro leads the first through the main gate as a distraction. Axel, you're coming with me around the east perimeter. Boulder, you take Razor and the cartel boys through the rear approach."
By the cartel boys, she means Ramiro, Ismael, Marco and César who Alejandro has assigned to be permanently assigned to the club.
We’ve always had a good relationship with the cartel, but things are shifting in Mexico, and when people see Ramirez men at our sides, they respect us more.
I nod, memorizing the layout, calculating angles, looking for points of vulnerability.
My mind is clear, focused.
Kelsey is safe, sleeping in our room.
Now it's time to end this shit once and for all.
"What about Benji?" Python asks, his face still bruised but his eyes clear.
He's insisted on being part of this meeting even though Astra protested.
Amara's expression hardens. "We'll deal with him after we handle Sally. One problem at a time."?n?m no
But I can see it in her eyes—she's already decided Benji isn't leaving this compound alive, at least not intact.
The only question is how it happens.
The club will vote, but we all know the direction this is heading.
Razor checks his phone for the twentieth time. "Any word from Alejandro's other men on Andrés?"
"Found his body an hour ago," Amara confirms. "Just like Benji said. Bullet to the back of the head, execution style. Sally's tying up loose ends."
Which means Lashes—if she's even still alive—is running out of time.
"Questions?" Amara looks around the table, and when no one speaks, she nods. "Gear up, then get some sleep. We leave in a few hours."
The meeting breaks, members heading to prepare weapons, check body armor, and get some sleep.
I push off from the wall, intending to check on Kelsey, when Amara stops me.
"Boulder," she says, her voice pitched for my ears only. "A word."
I follow her into her office, closing the door behind me.
She settles behind her desk, gesturing for me to take a seat.
I remain standing. "What's on your mind, Prez?"
She studies me for a long moment, then says, "When this is over, we need to discuss your patch."
I freeze, not sure I've heard her correctly. "My patch ?"
"You've earned it," she says simply. "This shit with Kelsey, with her brothers, with Sally—you've handled it like a full member, not a prospect."
Pride surges through me, but I keep my face neutral. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," Amara warns. "First, we finish this. Then the vote. But I wanted you to know where I stand."
I nod, understanding what she's not saying.
A president doesn't promise a patch without knowing they have the votes to back it up.
Amara wouldn't bring this up unless she was certain.
"Now go check on your ol’ lady," she says, dismissing me. "We've got a long night ahead."
I find Kelsey still sleeping in our room, her face peaceful for once.
Part of me wants to wake her, to tell her about the raid, about what Amara just said.
But she needs rest more than anything, so I lay down beside her and try to get a little bit of sleep… but I’m too restless.
Afraid to wake her, I scoot out of bed and press a kiss to her forehead, leaving a note on the pillow, explaining where I'll be.
Three hours later, we're rolling out.
Three SUVs and four bikes, loaded with enough firepower to start a small war.
The cartel boys are with us too, Alejandro's most trusted men, adding another four to our numbers.
The ride to Sally's compound is tense, everyone mentally preparing for what's coming.
I check my weapons, run through the plan again, think about everything that could go wrong.
But mostly, I think about Kelsey, about the promise I made to come back to her.
Dawn is breaking as we reach our positions around the estate.
It's an imposing structure, all white stone and wrought iron fences, surrounded by the kind of landscaping that costs more than most people make in a year.
From my vantage point with Razor and the cartel boys, I can see three guards patrolling the rear perimeter.
My radio crackles.
Amara's voice comes through, calm and collected. "On my mark. Three... two... one..."
The initial explosion at the front gate is our cue.
I signal to the men with me, and we move, using the distraction to take out the rear guards silently.
Razor is efficient, deadly, a knife appearing and disappearing so quickly it's almost invisible.
Two guards drop before they can even reach for their weapons.
I take the third, my hand covering his mouth as I drive my blade between his ribs, aiming for the heart.
He struggles briefly, then goes still.
I lower him to the ground, retrieving my knife and wiping it clean on his shirt.
We breach the rear entrance, moving through a kitchen area that's all stainless steel and marble countertops.
No staff in sight—either they fled when they heard the explosion, or Sally doesn't keep a household.
The interior of the house is eerily quiet compared to the commotion outside, where Zorro's team is making a hell of a scene to draw attention.
I can hear gunfire, shouting, more explosions.
Good, the plan is working.
We clear rooms methodically, finding nothing but expensive furniture and artwork.
No sign of Lashes.
No sign of Sally.
Until we reach what appears to be a study on the second floor.
The door is partially open, light spilling into the hallway.
I signal to Razor, who takes position on the other side of the door.
On my count, we burst in, weapons ready.
Sally Bernard sits behind a massive desk, a gun pointed at the door, as if she's been expecting us.
She's older than I imagined, her hair short and steel-gray, her face lined but her eyes sharp.
She doesn't seem surprised to see us, which immediately puts me on edge.
"I was wondering when you'd get around to me," she says in a thick British accent. "Took you buggars long enough."
"Where is she?" I demand, my gun trained on her head. "Where's Lashes?"
Sally's smile is cold. "Not here. Not for a while now."
Razor moves to secure the room, checking for hidden threats while I keep her covered. "We know Andrés is dead," I say. "We know you're cleaning house. Tell us where Lashes is, and maybe you get to walk out of here."
It's a lie, of course.
Sally's not walking out of this house alive. But she doesn't need to know that yet.
She laughs, the sound genuinely amused. "You think I care about walking out of here? This was never about surviving, prospect. This was about making your club suffer before I go. About getting vengeance for my husband, who your club brutally murdered. About making Amara feel the same pain I felt when your brothers killed my husband."
"The club might have been looking for Rage, but do you forget the kind of man your husband was?" Razor spits, still checking the room. "He wasn’t good. He was just as bad as Rage was. The fucker tried to rape club woman, old ladies. You can act like he was a decent man, maybe even a good one, but he was just as fucked up as the rest of the men in his family. The club took justice against him."
Sally's expression darkens. "The club decides what's justice? The club decides who lives and who dies?" She shakes her head. "No. I decide now. I've been deciding for years, working in the shadows, pulling strings. Do you know how satisfying it was to watch you all scurry around, trying to figure out who was behind everything, trying to anticipate my next move?"
I take a step closer, asking her again, my patience wearing thin. "Where the fuck is Lashes?"
"Gone." Sally's smile returns, more cruel this time. "Sold to the highest bidder. Trafficked, like so many other women your club has ignored over the years. She's probably halfway across the ocean by now, on her way to a new life of service."
Her words catch me off guard.
I knew she’d do something fucked up, but not this twisted.
Lashes—trafficked. Sold like property. It's a fate worse than death.
"You're lying," Razor says, though I can hear the uncertainty in his voice.
"Am I?" Sally opens a drawer, moving slowly so we can see she's not reaching for a weapon. She pulls out a phone, taps the screen a few times, then turns it around. "See for yourself."
The video shows Lashes, bound to a chair, a date stamp in the corner from two days ago. She's beaten, bloody, but alive.
A man stands beside her, speaking in a language I don't recognize.
Arabic, maybe.
"You fucking bitch," I growl, stepping closer, my finger tightening on the trigger.
"Go ahead," Sally taunts. "Kill me. It won't bring her back. It won't undo what's been done. And she's just the first. I've spent years building networks, making connections. Even after I'm gone, the wheels are still in motion."
The door behind us opens, and Amara steps in, flanked by two of Alejandro's men.
Her face is splattered with blood, though none of it appears to be her own.
"Boulder, report," she orders, her eyes fixed on Sally.
"She claims Lashes has been trafficked," I say, not lowering my weapon. "Has a video of her from two days ago."
Amara's expression doesn't change, but I see her hand tighten on her gun. "Is that right, Sally? You've stooped to human trafficking now?"
Sally stands, ignoring the multiple weapons trained on her. "I've done what was necessary to hurt you the way you hurt me. An eye for an eye. A club woman for my husband."
"Your husband was a rapist," Amara says coldly. "He may have been killed on accident, but trust me, it was necessary."
"And now the club will watch one of their own suffer a fate worse than death," Sally replies. "Poetic, don't you think?"
I can see the moment Amara makes her decision.
Her eyes harden, her stance shifts subtly. "Boulder, Razor, step out."
"Prez—" Razor begins, but she cuts him off with a look.
"This is between me and Sally. Club business. Personal business."
"Speaking of personal," Sally says, her smile never wavering, "how is your father these days, Amara? Still think the cartel gives a shit about him? Still think he can protect you from what's coming? He’s a bastard and that’s all he’ll ever be, and you and your brother by association are nothing. You’re meaningless."
Amara doesn't respond to the way Sally’s trying to bait her.
"Out," she says again to us, her voice leaving no room for argument.
We back out of the room, though I keep my gun trained on Sally until the last moment.
As soon as the door closes, I hear a single gunshot, followed by silence.
When Amara emerges a minute later, her expression is grim.
She doesn't speak as she walks past us, heading back the way she came.
We follow, knowing there's nothing more to be done here.
The raid is over faster than I expected.
Sally's men were mostly hired guns with no loyalty once they realized they were outmatched.
We've secured the entire compound with minimal casualties on our side—a few minor injuries, nothing life-threatening.
But it feels like a hollow victory.
Lashes is still missing, presumably being transported across borders like cargo, her future too horrific to contemplate.
The thought makes rage boil in my blood, makes me want to tear apart the entire system that allows such things to happen.
Back at the clubhouse, I find Kelsey waiting in the main room, her face tight with worry.
She rushes to me when I enter, her hands running over my chest, my arms, checking for injuries.
"I'm okay," I assure her, pulling her into my arms. "Not even a scratch."
"Lashes?" she asks, hope in her voice.
I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak about what we discovered. That would break my girl, and I know it.
Kelsey seems to understand, her face falling as she holds me tighter.
"What about Sally?" she asks after a moment.
"Dead," I say simply. "Amara handled it personally."
She nods against my chest, accepting this without question.
We stand like that for a long moment, just holding each other, before Amara's voice breaks the silence.
"Church," she calls, her tone making it clear this isn't optional. "Everyone. Now."
Kelsey pulls back, searching my face. "What's happening?"
"I don't know," I admit. "But I need to go."
She nods, releasing me. "I'll be here."
I follow the others into church, taking my usual place standing against the wall.
The room fills quickly, tension building as members settle into their seats.
When everyone is present, Amara closes the door and moves to the head of the table.
"We have two matters to address," she begins, her voice carrying easily through the room. "First, Lashes. Sally confirmed she's been trafficked, sold to international buyers. We have video evidence she was alive as of two days ago. The man who bought her sounds Arabic, but we’ll need confirmation."
Murmurs break out around the table, anger mixing with disbelief.
"We will use every resource at our disposal to find her," Amara continues, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the commotion. "My uncle Alejandro has connections that will help. But finding someone in the trafficking system..." She doesn't need to finish the thought. We all know the odds.
"Second matter," Amara says once the room has quieted again. "Benji Warlow."
I straighten at the name, my heart rate picking up.
This is it then—the decision on what happens to the man who hurt Kelsey, who killed Craig, who set all of this in motion.
"Bring him in," Amara orders, and two prospects lead Benji into the room.
He looks smaller somehow, his arrogance diminished but not gone.
His eyes dart around the room, assessing, calculating.
When they land on me, I see a flicker of fear before he masks it.
"The club needs to vote on your fate," Amara tells him directly. "But before we do, Boulder has the floor."
I push off from the wall, surprised at being called out.
All eyes turn to me as I approach the table.
"Benji Warlow hunted his own sister across state lines, across national borders," I begin, my voice steady even with how furious I am beneath. "He killed his brother Craig for trying to help her. He allied with Sally Bernard, our enemy, to hurt this club. He's responsible for Python's injuries, for Rooster's, for what happened to Lashes."
I look around the table, meeting each member's gaze. "In the old days, we would have put a bullet in his head and been done with it. Simple, clean."
Benji watches me, his face still showing that hint of fear.
Good. He should be afraid.
"But that's too easy," I continue. "Death is quick. Over in an instant. What Benji deserves is to live with what he's done, to suffer like he's made others suffer."
I turn to face him directly now. "A man who thrives on control should experience what it means to have none."
Understanding dawns in Benji's eyes, and for the first time, real terror shows on his face. "You can't?—"
"Shut the fuck up," I cut him off, returning my attention to the table. "I propose we take his hands. Both of them. And his feet. Leave him alive but unable to hurt anyone else ever again. Unable to even feed himself without help, wipe his ass, do the most basic of tasks."
The room is deathly silent as my words sink in.
Then Python speaks up. "Seconded."
"All in favor?" Amara asks, looking around the table.
Every hand rises.
It’s unanimous.
Benji starts to struggle against his restraints, panic taking over. "You can't do this! This isn't?—"
"Prospects, take him to the warehouse," Amara orders. "Boulder, you stay put."
Doom and Brick drag him out, his screams echoing down the hallway.
I remain standing, oddly calm.
Part of me is horrified at what I've become capable of.
But a larger part knows this is justice—brutal, yes, but just.
Amara speaks again once Benji's screams fade. "Boulder, step forward."
I move to the head of the table, knowing what's coming next.
"This prospect has proven himself time and again," Amara begins, addressing the room. "He's shown loyalty to the club, courage in the face of danger, and the ability to make hard decisions when necessary. He's protected his claimed woman with everything he has, and he's stood with his brothers without hesitation."
She reaches into her cut, pulling out something I can't see clearly at first. "The vote was taken while you were checking on your old lady earlier. It was unanimous."
When she opens her hand, I see the patch—a full Reapers Rejects MC patch with my road name stitched across it. No prospect rocker. No bottom rocker indicating I'm still earning my way.
A full patch.
"Welcome to the family, brother," Amara says, holding out the patch. "Officially."
I take it, emotion threatening to overwhelm me.
I've been working toward this moment for years, sacrificed everything for it.
And now it's here, partly because of the woman waiting for me outside.
"Thank you," I manage, looking around at the faces of my brothers. "I won't let you down."
Later, after the patch has been sewn onto my cut by Ruby, after the congratulations and shots of whiskey, I find myself alone with Kelsey in our room.
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.