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Fuck. My hand rose to my chest instinctively to stop the raw throbbing ache.

She was mine. Always. Forever. Time didn’t change shit.

I was almost free of this place, and there wasn’t time to dwell on my loss. I needed to focus.

Once I signed out, and my belongings were returned, I headed out the door with a sarcastic salute, happy to piss off the big guy with the crew cut just one last time. Big fucker had caused me a lot of difficulty in here but now I was out and he could kiss my ass.

Later asshole.

R.J. was parked in the lot facing the door, leaning against the hood of my Nova with a big stupid smile on his face. Man, I missed him. We hugged for a moment in that sort of awkward one-armed bro embrace and then I leaned back, eyeing him up and deciding he seemed better than the last time we were this close. He’d been in the infirmary right before he was released. Got shanked by some racist fucktard. I took care of it, having quite a few connections inside.

Helps when your dad is Mack ‘the Knife’ Harding.

No, he didn’t do shit to help me on the inside, but his reputation was enough to put off most of the trouble and help me gain alliances I needed to survive. You never know when you’re gonna need a favor.

“How’s it going, bro? You don’t look so pale anymore.”

He shrugged, cutting his glance sideways as I slid into the driver’s seat. It had been way too long since I drove my baby. Since I’d ridden in either of my favorite girls.

Fuck. My dick was getting hard just thinking of Rae.

“So, heard anything from or about Rae?” he knew I was going to ask. For the last year I’d been trying to find her, but there’s only so much you can do from the inside. I really was a stupid fucker, hoping she’d learn about my incarceration and come to visit me.

She never showed up, not that I blamed her. I wouldn’t want to come here either.

Hope is an unrealistic thing. It sinks its teeth in like some ravenous beast and doesn’t release you, just leaves a scar from the bite once you’re wise enough to see its folly.

Trust me, I had a lot of fucking scars.

“Nothing, but I don’t think she’s far. I’ll keep digging.”

“I was kind of hoping she might come see me. Maybe she saw the news or something,” I admitted.

“Well Edge, we both know that’s too dangerous, and I’m sure she does too.”

I nodded. Sore subject for us both.

“How’s it been at home?”

“The same,” he answered quickly, which didn’t surprise me.

“You good? Need anything?”

“Nah bro, I stay at the clubhouse most of the time.”

Funny, when we were kids we avoided the subject of R.J.’s home life like the fucking plague. Never talked about his drunk ass hoe of a mom or the deadbeat dad who rarely showed up except to shove him around and demand money. We both sort of had shitty fathers, but his was worse.

Now we talked about it from time to time, and I think it was good for him to let some of his anger and hate release. R.J. was just as crazy and messed up as the rest of us, but he was quiet and internalized shit, it made me worry about him. His childhood had been rougher than most, and since middle school, we’ve been tight.

Patching the club together made us more than best friends.

We were blood brothers.

I parked the Nova next to my Harley and noticed R.J. must have cleaned it up for me while my other brothers kept her running in good condition. He’d only got out two months prior to my release so his hog must have needed TLC too. Parked next to mine, the sleek black and silver paint glistened under the sunlight. I thanked him as we approached the back entrance to the clubhouse, dreading the next few minutes.

Welcome Home Edge.

The wide banner was strung up crookedly above the entrance as if I was happy to set foot back in this hellhole and Rafe’s controlling bullshit. A party was in full swing, not bothering to wait for me, not that I cared. I wouldn’t be fucking any of the girls here, so it didn’t matter. The only thing I wanted was alcohol and plenty of it.

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