Page 26 of Boulder's Weight

Was that meant to reassure me?

Or was it a subtle reminder that club protection comes with strings attached?

By closing time, my nerves are frayed.

Every time the door opens, I flinch, expecting to see Benji or Craig—or worse, my father somehow free from prison.

The rational part of my brain knows that's impossible.

Dad's serving multiple life sentences for what they found on those DVDs.

But fear isn't rational, is it?

I still remember the day I turned him in like it was yesterday.

The look of betrayal on his face when the police showed up.

The way he screamed that I was dead to him, that blood meant nothing now.

The relief I felt when they put him in handcuffs, mixed with the crushing guilt of destroying our family.

But I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Those children deserved justice.

They deserved someone to stand up for them, even if it meant turning against my own flesh and blood.

Benji will never forgive me.

Not for sending Dad to prison, not for exposing the family "business" to the authorities.

The "business" that had made us comfortably wealthy while destroying countless young lives.

I shake off the memories as I wipe down the last table.

Astra's counting the register, and through the window, I can see Python waiting outside on his bike.

"Good work today," Astra says, handing me my share of the tips. "You're fitting in well here."

"Thanks," I say, genuinely touched by her approval. "I like it more than I expected."

She smiles. "The cats have that effect on people. Healing in their own way."

As I prepare to leave, she adds casually, "Python mentioned there's been some trouble in the area. A local thug named Andrés causing problems for businesses under club protection." She pauses, watching me carefully. "Including this café."

I freeze, not sure how to respond.

Is she warning me?

Testing me?

What does it mean for us, really?

"Be careful walking home," she continues. "Or let me know if you want Python to have someone get you home safe."

The thought of having a club member know where I live sends a fresh wave of panic through me.

"I'll be fine," I say quickly. "I don't live far."

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