Page 111 of Rocky Top

“She’s perfect,” Knox choked, holding his daughter like the world had just handed him the stars.

Eliza looked like she’d been through hell and come out with heaven in her arms. “Willow,” she murmured, barely a whisper. “Her name’s Willow.”

I cried. Full-on, no shame, tears rolling down my cheeks like someone’d busted a pipe. I didn’t even know why, just that it felt like we were all witnessing a miracle.

“I’ll give you some space,” I said, backing toward the door.

Knox nodded, his eyes never leaving Eliza or the baby. “Thank you, Birdie.”

Out in the main room, the Wild Dog was buzzing. Word had spread. Members were pouring in from the yard, old ladies bringing food, a couple of the boys passing around celebratory shots.

Rocky was out by the firepit, his cut tossed over his shoulder, boots scuffed and hands in his pockets. The second he saw me, he straightened.

“She alright?” he asked.

“She’s a damn warrior,” I said, feeling my throat catch. “And the baby… she’s different.”

Rocky’s expression softened. “Born shifter?”

I nodded. “Ears and everything. Only for a second.”

He let out a low whistle, then pulled me in, arms firm around me. “You did good bein’ there.”

I didn’t tell him how I’d nearly fainted. Or how I’d wanted to run. But Istayed. And I’d stay again.

Because they were my people now. Whether I was ready or not.

The fire pit had been moved out back near the tree line, and most of the club had gathered in a loose circle. Villain stood off to one side with a box of new cuts in his hands, smirking like the devil himself.

Knox stepped up onto a makeshift platform, his new daughter Willow held tight in Eliza’s arms beside him. He looked like a man reborn, stronger somehow, grounded.

“This club was built on loyalty,” he said, voice strong and sure. “But loyalty ain’t blind. We’ve all seen what the Royal Bastards has become. More lies than law, more secrets than brotherhood. Hell, the President didn’t even have the decency to speak to me himself. We deserve better. Our families deserve better.”

A low murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.

“We ain’t Royal Bastards no more,” Knox said. “Not in our hearts. And after tonight, not in name either.”

Villain stepped forward and opened the box, liftin’ a fresh leather cut embroidered in bold silver and black.

Bastard Sons MC

“Tonight, we burn the past,” Knox said, holdin’ up his old cut, the Royal Bastards Mc patch heavy with history. “We’re family. And that ain’t ever gonna change. We’re takin’ family with us. And we ride into the future together. Free.”

One by one, the brothers stepped forward. They peeled off their old colors and tossed them into the fire. The leather curled and blackened, flames lickin’ up years of memories and mistakes. I watched Smokey’s shoulders relax like he’d dropped a weight he didn’t know he’d been carryin’.

Smokey and Chevy stood side by side, as they burned their old patches. Loretta was there too, along with a few of the ol’ ladies, each of them takin’ the time to say goodbye to the name they once followed.

When it was Rocky’s turn, he looked at me.

“You ready?” he asked.

I nodded.

Together, we stepped forward and tossed his old cut into the fire.

Flames crackled loud in the silence that followed. One by one, fresh cuts were handed out. The emblem of the Bastard Sons gleamed under firelight like blood and ash, like everything we’d been through had branded us into somethin’ new. Somethin’ forged.

Rocky slipped his arms through the sleeves of his new cut, rolled his shoulders like it finally sat right. When Villain handed him mine, I blinked down at it, same colors, same fierce embroidery, but instead of an officer patch, mine said:

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