Page 109 of The Price of Love

I shrug.

Edge’s eyes widen. “You don’t have a plan?”

I shake my head.

“Damn it, Shadow. You know I’ve always had a special place in my heart for you.”

I smile. “I do know. And I appreciate it. You’ve always been the person here I’ve felt closest to.”

“If you lose your patch, you’re persona non grata. Gone.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” Edge raises her voice. “That means no contact with anyone from the club. It’s like you never existed.”

“I know.”

I’m taken off guard when Edge wraps me in a hug.

She says into my ear, “We can’t stay here any longer. They’re gonna get suspicious of where you went. But I had to tell you, do what Wiz asks of you. Don’t fight her.” Edge squeezes me tighter. “I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

Tears well in my eyes. As tough as I’ve tried to act, this is hard. I just want to get it over with.

When Edge lets go of me, her eyes are misty, as well. She puts her hand against my cheek and looks into my eyes before she turns and hurries off.

Shaken, I take a few moments to collect myself before I walk down the hallway to the clubhouse.

A hush falls over the room when I enter. I want to slink off, but I’m done hiding in the shadows, so I raise my hand and wave. Several give me an awkward wave back.

“Don’t let me interfere with the party,” I say in a loud voice.

I have to stop myself from giggling at the surprised looks on some of their faces. Glancing around the bar, I don’t see Wiz. I’d expected her to snatch me as soon as I entered, but of course, she’d want to put me in an awkward position with the other patches.

I can’t just stand here gaping, so I stride to the bar. I choose the end where there are empty seats instead of imposing myself on anyone.

“Prospect,” I say to the prospect acting as bartender. “Give me a beer.”

She gawks like I’ve asked her to hand over all the money.

Annoyed, I stab my finger against my name patch. “As long as I still wear this, you’ll serve me.”

“Yes, ma’am. My apologies.” She rushes to the cooler, pulls out my favorite beer, takes off the cap, and sets it in front of me.

“Thank you.” I lift the beer to my mouth and take a big drink, letting the cool liquid calm me.

Nobody approaches me, which suits me fine. When Wiz walks in, I know they don’t want to be seen near me, and I understand. I’m the pariah. Until they know my fate, they don’t want any of my stench on them.

As much as they’ve helped me, I know where I stand. If Wiz strips me of my colors, everyone here will no longer know me, so why talk to someone who may soon become a ghost to them?

Sadness washes over me, so I take another swallow of my beer. There is no forgiveness here. Only judgment.

I don’t have to wait long until I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn to see Sloth, the sergeant-at-arms, behind me. Now that I’ve been around the Thorns, I can’t help but notice the contrast between her and Nails. Sloth resembles an overweight pasty accountant, not a badass enforcer. Nails exudes a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude, while Sloth puts off welcome wagon vibes.

Though, tonight, Sloth isn’t smiling when she says, “We’re ready for you.”

Ah, so this is how Wiz is going to play it. Send the sergeant-at-arms to escort the exile to her fate.

I stand and pick up my beer.