Page 67 of Stealing the Biker

“Now would be good.”

“Today? I can’t. Not yet. Can’t we talk about this? We could work through this.”

“No. We can’t. I don’t want to. I’ve said all I need to. I’ll be around tomorrow for my stuff.”

“Where will you go?”

“That’s for me to figure out. Take care of yourself. And tell Crawl or I will.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Nothing about any of this is fair. There are no winners.”

One Week Later

“Yo, Prospect. Prez wants to see you,” Bridger, one of the club members, tells me. “Out back.”

“All right.” I follow him through the empty clubhouse, wondering what’s going on. Everyone’s bikers are parked out front, but there’s not a soul around other than Bridger.

“Do you know what he wants?”

He ignores me and when he opens the back door, I see all the guys standing around a massive fire. Shit. Did Kiesha tell her uncle about us? Are they going to burn my body after they kill me?

Bridger waits for me to step out and shoves me forward as the group parts to clear a path for me.

I gulp but keep walking until I’m at the fire pit where Prez stands waiting for me. Next to him are the club officers fanned out, forming a half circle around the blazing inferno.

“Prospect,” Murder’s gruff voice calls.

“Yeah, Prez.”

“You’ve been with us nearly a year. The time has come to decide whether or not you’re worthy of a cut. We’ve tested you. Pushed you to your limits. You’ve done everything we asked of you.”

I glance around, noticing no one is wearing their cuts. This can’t be good. I find Smoke and he looks away. Shit. He’s my sponsor and likely means that this is it. I didn’t make the cut.

Serves me right after all the shit I’ve done. The lies I’ve told trying to get here.

“Before I make my decision, there’s some business we need to handle.”

My heart pounds against my chest. This is it. He’s going to confront me about Kiesha and let Prodigy and Link punish me.

I look around for them, but it’s Crawl who steps forward. “No hard feelings about Sabrina.” He holds his hand out for me to shake.

I haul back and punch him, aiming to hit him square between the eyes but popping him in the nose right on the bone.

“What the fuck, man?” he grumbles.

I stick my hand out. “No hard feelings.”

Crawl shakes my hand reluctantly with the one he’s not using to staunch the blood flow.

Prez chuckles and slaps me on the back. “All right then. Welcome to Bastard Sons MC, Knuckles.”

I look at him funny, not understanding the new club name as he hands me a leather cut, and that’s when I notice what’s burning. Everyone has thrown their Royal Bastards MC cuts into the fire. I stare at my cut and a sense of pride washes over me. This is what I’ve been working toward.

What I sacrificed everything for.

Prez starts handing new cuts and patches to everyone.

---