Page 13 of Surrender
Rafe stood at the other end, cracking his knuckles, a nervous habit he always did before getting in the ring. His eyes danced around, examining the energy, trying to read the room and its vibe.
He wasn’t sure what was going on, even though, at this point, I would have thought it was obvious. He was too nervous, though, wired tight out of fear he’d done something wrong.
“You all right, Prospect?” Bishop questioned, a slight edge to his tone, just to keep the kid on his toes.
“Yes, sir,” Rafe replied, forcing his hands behind his back so he’d stop fidgeting.
Bishop leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You ever question your place here, Rafe?”
“No, sir.”
There was no hesitation. Not a shake or a stutter in his words.
“You sure?” Bishop prodded. “Your brothers rode you hard. You’ve had to spend hours on your feet. Run days on just a couple of hours’ sleep. They’ve had you scrubbing, cleaning, polishing, building, breaking down, andrebuilding. They’ve pushed you to limits I know you didn’t think existed before. You got anything to say about that?”
Rafe gave a half smile. “Uh… I just figured it was all about learning and proving myself.”
“Damn right it was,” I muttered under my breath, unable to keep the sense of pride from seeping out.
I’d had prospects that I’d sponsored get their patches before, but none of them were as like me as this kid. Seeing his eyes grow wider was like watching my younger self be patched in, and that moment of realization that you had finally found a place where you felt like you belonged.
Bishop got to his feet, planting his palms on the table. “You’ve shown over the past year that you have what it takes to be a brother within the Exiled Eight MC. You proved your loyalty, your grit, and your heart. You never went searching for the easy road, and you understood that everything we asked of you was for a reason. And when push came to shove, you protected what was ours, as if it was already yours.” He reached down andpulled a fresh leather cut from beneath the table, laying it out, patches fresh and newly sewn. “You are the kind of man we want to call brother, so take that worn shit off, and come and put your new colors on.”
For a split second, Rafe didn’t move.
Then, with trembling hands, he slipped off his old, worn prospect’s cut and laid it on the table before walking the length of the room, past all his new brothers, to take his new one from Bishop.
Our president slipped it on his shoulders, and the room erupted—boots stomping, hands clapping, deep voices hooting loudly.
The two men embraced, Bishop pounding Rafe on the back and making him choke for a moment when he stumbled back, still in awe.
His eyes met mine, and I lifted my chin.
Fucking proud.
It was done.
He was in.
“All right! All right!” Bishop shouted over the chaos, everything instantly falling silent. “Now, for your road name—”
“Actually,” Rafe interrupted, squaring his shoulders the moment Bishop’s brow dipped into a hard, warning crease. “Sorry, Prez… I mean, I just—”
“Kid, you got something to say, just say it,” I told him firmly, knowing that the situation was obviously huge and a little overwhelming. “Ain’t no time like right fucking now.”
He nodded, swallowing hard and clearing his throat. “If it’s okay, I’d really like to keep Rafe instead of taking a road name. My little sisters could never say Raphael, so they’ve been calling me Rafe since they could talk. I feel like that name is what connects that family with this new family. My sisters with my brothers. Both connections matter to me, and if I’m beinghonest, I don’t know if there is any other name that would honor that in the same way.”
Well, if the old ladies weren’t already on the verge of bawling before, they sure as hell were going to be now when this kid walked out with his full patches and they heard this story. Bishop and I had gone back and forth for weeks about a name that suited that damn kid.
Coming up with exactly nothing that seemed fucking right.
Turns out he’d had the perfect one the whole time.
Bishop let out a low chuckle, scratching at his beard. “Thank fuck for that,” he said with a sigh. “’Cause neither Blue nor I could think of one, so we were gonna leave it for now and figure it out later.”
A chorus of deep laughter filled the room, and the tension in Rafe’s shoulders quickly fell away as he joined in.
For the club, it wasn’t the traditional route.
