"I don't mind living in a man's world, as long as I can be a woman in it."
A hopeful new member with an affiliation to a neighbouring charter shows up in Charming, looking to get in with the infamous Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club. The only problem...
The veil of secrecy is lifted and the troubled members of SAMCRO are finally able to see clearly, but the downside to transparency is accepting that some sights are pretty than others.
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General trigger warnings for this story: Language, smut, mentions of rape, abuse, drug use/overdose, violence/death, racism/gang activity.
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♕
Sydney hung her head as she listened to the angry exhaust of Tig's bike as he fired up the engine, the loud screeching of his tires following before the bitter reminder of their argument faded away altogether. She tried to take a deep breath, but all she could manage was a shaky, shallow gulp as she reached for her phone, pulling up her contact list. Her bright red thumbnail hovered above the touch screen where she noticed that Half-Sack's name had moved up into Happy's old space in her speed dial—in fact, everybody had moved up into Happy's old space since she'd moved to the new town. Just a few short months ago, he would've been the only phone call that she cared to make, but now she wasn't sure if she would ever be dialling his number, ever again.
She sighed, squeezing the phone in her hand until the screen went black, lowering her head into her hands where she slowly rocked from side to side. She was so overwhelmed with the backlog of shit to process that the day from hell had plagued her with, she had no idea where to start; no idea how to feel.
But she shook the deflation away, snapping her head up and clicking on the prospect's name. She needed to focus on one task at a time, and this was the only one that she felt she might have some chance at accomplishing.
♕
"Feds picked him up in the middle of the night." Jax paced around the chapel as he regrettably relayed the information that so desperately wished he hadn't found out.
"He go out in cuffs?" Clay asked with his head down, staring at his ring-clad hand where it rested on the gavel.
Jax's eyes fell closed as he sighed. "Neighbours say no..." He admitted begrudgingly. He knew that it was no use lying; the whole town would be talking about it by morning, and lies were what had gotten him into this mess in the first place...
Tig nodded slowly, his brow raising and a scoff rippling up his throat as his theory only became more and more likely—just as he knew it would.
Clay ground his teeth, throwing the bank statement that Juice had pulled, down onto the table. "Ope's debt has been cleared—federal wire transfers."
Jax picked up the papers, pretending to look at the evidence as he shook his head. "It's a setup," he tossed it aside. No matter what it was, he wasn't going to let it be his best friend's death sentence.
