Sage

My brothers around the table don’t look my way as I step into the room—except Gin. He glares at me as if I’m not the person he took in all those years. “Close the door behind you, Sage,” Rock tells me, as if I’m walking into my very own execution. I do as instructed, and move farther into the room. For the first time, I feel unwanted by my club, like an outsider. “Gin, you want to start?” Rock asks from the head of the table. Gin doesn’t say anything, just keeps his eyes trained on me as he stands from his chair and starts toward me, fury set deep in his features. He doesn’t hold back. Full force, he slams his fist into my face, then goes for my ribs. I double over, and take another hit to my face. Fire builds inside me, the urge to fight back as any man would but I tamper it down. I deserve this, knew it was coming and accept it. I take my punishment like a man, like a member of the Hell’s Riders MC. It goes on, Gin hitting me until he tires and steps back. I can already feel my left eye closing shut and the blood running down my chin from my mouth as he stands tall in front of me.

“I want you gone. I don’t want to see your face in this clubhouse,” he tells me, making my world crumble apart, but I take it. It’s what I deserve—what I knew would happen when he found out I fell for his daughter.

“Already talked to Eagle. He’s expecting you,” Rock informs me as I straighten and square my shoulders, looking Gin directly in the eye. The promise of not being stripped of my cut but going back to where it all began, in Rhino, serves to bring my spirits up slightly. Gin has every right to want me gone and I won’t argue. This is his way of dealing and must have brought it to a vote, which, since I’m leaving, they voted and it passed.

“You can hate me all you want, but at some point, this needs to get behind us. For her and the baby, you know that. I will go, but if she wants to come with me, you can bet your ass I’m taking her,” I declare, almost earning another round with Gin’s fists, but Jake holds him back, whispering something in his ear that calms him.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Gin growls with venom, pointing toward the door for emphasis, but I don’t get far before Rock calls out my name.

“Going to need your patch, brother.”

Nodding, I strip off my cut and toss the leather down to my President, who promptly takes out his knife and begins cutting my Sergeant at Arms patch from my cut. With each stitch being sliced, I feel the blade pierce my soul, but I hold steady.

“Ringer,” he calls out, tossing me my leather. I catch it in one hand and watch as he slides the patch I’ve had stitched to me for over a decade to Ringer. I force myself to swallow down the bitterness forming in my throat.

“See you on the road, brothers,” I say, nodding to the ones who look my way. Then, I’m out the door, slinging my cut back over my shoulders.

* * *

“Voted against it. Sorry, brother,” Ringer tells me, leaning against my door as I gather my things together.

“Appreciate that,” I grunt in response.

“He’ll get over it. Give it some time. He’s just pissed now. Pres figured it best given Gin’s temper to have you elsewhere until this blows over.” I nod, agreeing. Gin and his damn temper. “You going to try to get her to come with you?” I pause in my packing. Driving to the hospital and tossing her over my shoulder and taking her with me has crossed my mind, but it would only make shit worse.

“I will let her decide. She’ll know where I am and how to get there. Rest is up to her.”

We talk for a while more before I’m packed and ready to leave. I bypass anyone who sees me go and walk out of the clubhouse, hoping it won’t be the last time I step foot in this place.