At the bottom of the table was an empty chair, no doubt reserved for her. To its sides shat the lower ranked patches. Artie sat at the lowest seat at the left side, across Makeba, a thin brunette wearing her hair in dreads. Next to them were Emilia and Jessica, short brunette and full blonde respectively. Then there was Gail, the club’s Enforcer with her dyed red hair tied in a zy pony tail, and Minhua, a wiry brunette that served as Treasurer. Next to Gail was Carmen, the club’s Road Captain, with her long bck hair untied and next to Carmen was Dinah, SGT at Arms officially and resident heartthrob unofficially, with her beautiful blonde hair and stunning green eyes. Next to Minhua sat Charlotte, the club’s Secretary, and next to her Katrine took the empty seat. And at the head was, of course, Odin.
Odin was a short, thin woman in her forties. Her natural red hair was slicked back, much like Themis’, but they were much shorter and boyish. She had the coldest blue eyes Themis had ever seen, so much so that they almost seemed fake. What she cked in muscle she more than made up for in intimidation, staring down people twice, or even three times, her size with ease, oftentimes ending altercations without throwing a single punch.
She was a living legend in the area, alongside Katrine, with the numerous patches on their vests telling a long and gruesome story. On one pel her patches read ‘Co-Founder’ and ‘President.’ On the other there were another two of them. The top one read ‘Css of ‘15,’ referring to the year she and many other MC members ended their five-year long prison stint after the previous governor’s push the eradication of MCs all across the state. The other said ‘Einharjar,’ the one she earned after proving herself in the joint war between the Hunter County MCs and a Russian bratva affiliated crew from Los Angeles that tried to take over their respective territories. Every kill of hers for the club was marked with a skull decal on her bike, and she was running out of clean space.
Themis shuddered when Odin gnced at her, gesturing at her to sit. She swallowed hard and pulled the chair back.
“So,” Odin said. “You are back.”
“Yeah, I miss-” Themis started, before she was silenced by Minhua.
“Shut the fuck up, prospect,” the Treasurer growled, surprisingly loud for a girl her size.
“Thank you, Minhua,” Odin dismissed her, the brunette settling back in her chair.
Themis’ heart dropped as the moment dragged on, no one in the room paying attention to her, not even Artie. Except Odin, who was staring her down from across the table. She felt the cold, blue eyes rip her to shreds, like a rabbit in the icy tundra coming across a wolf looking for his food for the day.
Themis was far from being a religious person but she seriously considered praying to someone, anyone, the more the silence went on. The club was all she had. She never went to college, nor was she any good with books and numbers. All she knew how to do was fuck and fight, neither of which looked good in a resume. She had given them a year of her life, god damn it. They couldn’t just throw her away like that, could they?
“We talked about you,” Odin finally said, and Themis let go of the breath she didn’t know was holding. “Your sister and our friends in the Correctional Facility vouched for you. You did good, you survived. And that’s commendable.”
Themis bit her lip, preparing herself for the ‘but…’ that was about to follow.
“But,” Odin surely said. “Your behaviour that night is not something that we can overlook.”
No, Themis thought. No, don’t say it.
“We took a vote. And the results are final. I’m sorry, Themis. We can’t take you back as a prospect.”
No.
“No,” she said, hardly believing what she was hearing. She looked for Artie, but her sister dodged her eyes. “No, you can’t do this.”
“Please,” said Odin. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
“No, no, no,” Themis got up and banged her fists against the table. “You can’t do this- You can’t fucking do this to me! After all I did for you? A whole year of my life wasted?”
The other patches stood up, responding to her aggression, except Artie who stayed seated. Themis spped Minhua’s hand away as it touched her shoulder.
“What the fuck is your problem?” Themis continued. “You are making a big mistake, can’t you see it?”
Carmen and Katrine approached her from both sides. She tried to push them away but, unlike Minhua, they were not asking. They grabbed hold of her arms, locking them in pce, and pinning her down against the table. Her forehead burned as it was smmed against the wood, and hot tears pooled up in her eyes.
“No,” she shouted, struggling to break free. “No, don’t do this.”
She had bulked up in prison, if it was just Katrine or Carmen she could have shaked them off. But both of them together was simply impossible. She saw Artie finally get up, and pull a knife from her belt handing it to Dinah. The SGT at Arms slowly walked around while Themis fruitlessly resisted. She felt her hands on her back, then the knife cutting the ‘Prospect’ patch out.
“Stop it,” Themis cried, finality setting in and fueling her sorrow. “Don’t-Don’t do this, please… Please, stop it, please!”
Artie was still gone. At the back of her mind, Themis understood. Her sister was the same as her, the club was everything to her. She didn’t bme her for this, she only bmed herself.
By the time Dinah was done cutting the patch out, Themis was done as well. No anger, no crying, no resistance. Just numbness. Catrine and Carmen let go of her, but she didn’t stand up. Her legs felt like jelly, if she put any weight on them she’d colpse. Alongside her patch she had lost everything. Her dreams, her dignity, her very identity. She had nothing without the club. She was nothing without the club. She felt Katrine grab her by the shoulders and force her up to her feet. She wasn’t ready to face the club. But the smiles on their faces only confused her.
“W-what?” she breathed out.
Artie was back. Themis looked down, to her hands. To the things that she held. By then, her heart had already dropped. Now, it stopped.
