"Don't go setting fires when there's nothing to burn."
A sick turn of events sees Isla Telford thrown in at the deep end, battling to govern the sudden pressures of all that her father's club decidedly bestow upon her.
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Tig Trager x Fem!OC...
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Warnings: mentions of past abuse, violence, angst.
"Watch your ass, Teller. If I press charges, you're done for." Steven snarked, mustering enough upper-body strength to peel his formerly limp frame away from the gravel. "Or do you still have Unser under your fuckin' thumb?"
"That, I do." The VP retorted with a sickly grin, watching Isla storm out of the clubhouse. "But you better watch your ass, 'cus I can guarantee that what my guys'll do to you is gonna be way worse than getting your shit rocked."
Steven chortled, also heeding the blonde making her way from one side of the grounds to the other. She was so beautiful when she was mad, he thought.
"You think that I got my shit rocked? Jesus, Jax, you're just as delusional as I remember."
"Not delusional. Just warning you of what'll happen the next time I see your stupid fuckin' face 'round these parts." He said, inching nearer. "You're lucky that we got an audience here, Stevie. 'Cus there's no guarantee that you'll make it out alive next time."
The dishevelled blonde brushed the dirt from his jeans, snorting a laugh. "If you want me dead so bad, then why haven't you killed me yet?"
"What's the fun in putting you out of your misery, Steven? I think I'd sleep better at night knowing that you've gotta live with the shitty things you said, and did, to the only woman that ever loved your sorry ass. Y'know, aside from your mommy."
Steven's jaw rolled so hard that it clicked, feeling a bubbling resentment for Jax rise from the chasms of his stomach.
Though, of course, such ill-feelings had always prevailed whenever in the presence of the man he had spent the better part of ten years feeling the most egregious jealousy toward.
The two blondes—that, to Tig, held the most striking resemblance—had known one another since they were children, hastily deciding that they loathed the bones of the other. To extreme degrees.
He was a bad person, through and through. And Jax felt as though he had the displeasure of meeting enough horrible men, to be able to form such an opinion on the man that Isla had let into her life.
Despite Jax—and Opie—verbally substantiating their hatred for Steven, she still decided to go against their word. Because she was positive that they were simply protecting her the way that two overly-possessive, overly-cynical, best friends would always.
Isla Telford had no idea that the man was such a horrible, intrinsically bad human being. She had no idea that he had the propensity to be so fucking covetous, so bitter toward her best friend.
"All those horrible things you did to that girl," Jax wrapped a hand around his bicep, stopping him from getting into his car, "I'll never forget them. She came to me, she only ever told me how you hurt her 'cus you're that much of a lowlife and get off on hurting women. And, y'know what?'
