Page 12 of Slayin Villain (Royal Bastards MC: Nashville, TN #11)

Villain

The night the patches changed, so did everything else.

The Royal Road compound wasn’t just wild.

It was unholy.

A full damn carnival had been trucked in, rides and all. Kingpin didn’t just want a patch-over. He wanted spectacle, and he was willing to burn the whole damn place down to get it.

There was a mini-Ferris wheel where naked sweetbutts rode with bikers holding beer pitchers in one hand and ass in the other.

A dunk tank was set up, but instead of water, it was full of mystery booze dyed blood red.

Each dunk earned the thrower a lap dance right there on a giant throne, complete with a crown made of twisted rebar.

Even though we had a whole arena, a cage fight pit topped with barbed wire sat outside, center stage, where members fought bare-fisted to the roar of brothers from other chapters who’d come to watch.

The bar brought outside, too? Nah, this was a booze cathedral . Our bartenders were in nun outfits that left little to the imagination, giving shots of absinthe and fireball. Minnie dressed like a zombie Marilyn Monroe was giving communion with molly wafers and holy water spiked with Everclear.

Then I saw our Chaplin, my brother Jesus dressed as his namesake, but wearing a sombrero and strumming a guitar. And I knew we were all going to hell, for real.

Royal Road’s compound wasn’t just lit up brighter than Broadway. It looked like if Sin City had a bastard love child with a haunted carnival.

Kingpin didn’t want a traditional patch-over. He wanted a show. Biker always got what he wanted.

A fire-breathing stilt walker strutted between rows of parked bikes, her leather catsuit catching every flash of colored light as she threw condoms and candy into the crowd.

There were strippers on stilts, tattoo booths giving out free club ink, and a tent where Kingpin had hired a dominatrix from Vegas to host a "Confess or Strip" game that had even Ol’ Ladies lining up.

Then came the showstopper.

A cage lowered from a damn crane, and inside it?

A live fucking lion. I shit you not.

Prez was fixin’ to play lion tamer. Biker was gonna end up mauled to death if he weren’t careful. But that wasn’t my problem. It was Opry’s. Brother looked like he hadn’t blinked all night.

Soon, brothers were called up one by one.

Patches ripped from their cuts, thrown into a larger-than-life bonfire dubbed the gates of hell.

Then, shirtless and swaying from either whiskey or nerves, they took the torch straight to their chest or shoulder.

Dimple dressed as Elvis with devil horns and a tail, seared a red-hot brand, a B S into their skin while the crowd chanted, “Born Bastard. Die Bastard.”

And above it all, Kingpin stood on a raised scaffold, arms outstretched, his cut fluttering in the wind like he was Caesar at a Southern biker coliseum.

It wasn’t just a party.

It was a rebirth.

And I knew this wasn’t just a turning point for the club.

It was a crossroads for me too.

“This is the future,” Kingpin said into the mic, nodding toward me. “Built on loyalty, grit, and men like Villain who never back down.”

I kept my arms crossed and face frozen. I didn’t need the attention. I didn’t want it. But I earned it. I climbed up to stand beside Prez, to read our new code.

What I didn’t expect was to look across the crowd and see her.

Rachel.

Standing near the back, tucked behind Connie and a few of the other Ol’ Ladies. Fire-red hair glowing under the torchlight, lips pressed tight, arms folded like she didn’t know what to do with them.

She wasn’t dressed to be seen, ripped jeans and a worn flannel, but I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I felt her watching me. I felt it in my fuckin’ spine as I spoke our new code into being. First the introduction, “Brothers.

We rode through fire for this.

Some of us bled for it. Some of us damn near died.

We were Royal Bastards once. Born under a crown that forgot who we were.

But kings fall.

And bastards? We rise.

This patch. This son of a bitch right here. Don’t just mean club. It means choice .

We chose each other. We chose loyalty over legacy.

We chose truth, even when it burned.

From this night on, we ain’t under anyone’s rule but our own.

This is our blood. Our road. Our damn brotherhood.

We are the Bastard Sons MC .

And anyone who don’t like it…

Can choke on the fumes we leave behind.”

Looking out over the crowd, I noticed, Ember wasn’t here tonight. Said she was sick. I didn’t ask questions. I fucking knew. Girl was pregnant. Was it mine? I didn’t want to think about it and couldn’t stop.

I figured she needed space.

Now I was wondering if the universe was making room for something else.

Taking a breath, I went onto the code. The code Kingpin wrote. I wrote the bylaws, the ones that wouldn’t be read tonight. The ones that mattered. Either way, it was an honor, I wouldn’t pass up. Kingpin patted me on the back, as if to start me up.

“ Bastard Sons MC Code of Conduct

1. Blood In, Ride Forever

You earn this patch with blood, sweat, and loyalty.

You don’t walk away. You ride until your last breath, or until your brothers tear the patch from your flesh.

2. No Kings, No Crowns

We don’t answer to presidents of the past or thrones we never sat on.

There are no kings here. Just brothers forged in fire.

3. The Road Comes First

Club business comes before personal business.

If you wear this patch, your word, your ride, and your steel are ours when needed.

4. Family is Chosen

Blood makes you related. Loyalty makes you family.

Any betrayal, of club, brother, or Ol’ Lady, means exile.

5. Respect the Cut

Don’t touch another man’s patch. Don’t question another man’s ink.

The patch is earned, not borrowed.

6. Property is Sacred

An Ol’ Lady wearing a “Property of” patch is off-limits.

Disrespect her, and the whole club answers.

7. Brotherhood Before Bullshit

No secrets. No politics. No outside drama.

If you got beef, you bring it to church or handle it in the ring.

8. One President. One Voice.

Votes matter, but orders are followed.

Patch-holders speak. Prospects listen.

9. No Snakes. No Snitches. No Saviors.

Lawmen, informants, cults, kings, and martyrs, none of them run this club.

We are bastards, not pawns.

10. Ride Free. Die Hard.

When the Reaper comes, we go out with chrome beneath us, our patch on our back, and our brothers at our side.”

When I finished, the fight broke out.

It started near the beer tent, a brother mouthing off about the new bylaws. Everyone had gotten a copy of them. Something about territory rights and payout percentages. Couldn’t please everyone, I supposed. Opry tried to step in. Then someone swung.

The sound of fist meeting face cracked through the air.

Kingpin didn’t flinch. Neither did I.

“Let ’em settle it,” he muttered.

But it didn’t settle.

It exploded.

Fists. Bottles. A table flipped. Someone threw a chair. Brothers scrapping in the dirt like wild dogs and everyone else circling up, ready to throw down or break it up.

I pushed through bodies until I found the center, two brothers choking each other out in front of the goddamn prospect table.

I didn’t hesitate.

I grabbed one by the collar, yanked him off the other, and slammed him into the side of the burn barrel. “Enough!”

The guy snarled and swung at me. Dumb move.

I ducked it, drove my elbow into his jaw, and tossed him to the ground.

“You wanna throw hands at a patch-over?” I roared, standing over him. “You wanna disrespect this club, this night? Then you’re not a brother. You’re a fuckin’ problem.”

Silence fell.

Kingpin walked over. He looked down at the brother coughing in the dirt and spit. “You patchin’ over or want to be a lesson to the newbies?”

The guy spat blood. “Over.”

Kingpin nodded to me. “Then make it official.” Then Prez addressed the wide eye prospects. “We patch in all prospects tonight, too.”

One eagerly stepped up as I tried not to roll my eyes. I grabbed the new cut, peeled the old prospect cut off his back, and slapped the Bastard Sons MC cut to his chest, pressing it to him like a goddamn seal.

Our new cuts were passed out all around. I shrugged mine on in unison with the other officers. Cheers erupted around us. Whiskey got passed.

And just like that, the storm passed.

I turned, scanning the crowd again.

Rachel was still there.

But this time, she wasn’t hiding.

She was watching me. Eyes locked on mine. Wide. Wet. Something between fear and pride in her face.

I walked toward her, crowd parting like they knew not to get in my way.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” I said when I got close.

“I almost didn’t come.”

“You always had a thing for watching me fight.”

Her lips curved, sad and sharp. “You always had a thing for proving you didn’t need anyone.”

I stepped closer. “That what you think this is?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore, Villain. You kiss Ember in front of the whole damn club, then show up on my phone confessing, to more. Then nothing. Just silence. Until tonight.”

I looked down at her. “You were the one who ghosted me, Red.”

“Because I couldn’t stand seeing you with someone else. Not when I still…”

She cut herself off.

But I heard it.

“Still what?” I asked, my voice softer than it had been in weeks.

She didn’t answer.

So I reached for her hand.

She let me take it.

Then my hand dipped lower, my thumb brushed the back of her thigh. The same place I once said I’d get my name tattooed, so everyone would know she was mine.

“I miss you,” I said quietly.

She swallowed. “Villain…”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.” Her voice broke. “But you made me feel like I was nothing. Like she meant more.”

“She didn’t,” I said. “She doesn’t.”

“Then why are you still with her?”

I hesitated.

And in that hesitation, I saw the pain bloom in her eyes.

She pulled her hand back.

“I have something to tell you,” she said.

“Then tell me.”

She looked up at me, and for a moment, I thought she might say something to force me to tell her the truth. That I fucked up big time. That Ember started as nothing but a joke. I planned to walk away. But the joke was on me. Ember was pregnant.

But then she just shook her head. “Not here. Not tonight.”

She turned to go.

And all I could do was watch her walk away again.