Page 149 of Boulder's Weight

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.

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