Mileena, the niece of the late John Teller and the daughter of the leader of the London charter of Sons of Anarchy. What happens when a rebellion within the club takes place and she has no choice but to leave and go across the sea to Charming in hop...
The streets of London were dull with the downpour of salty rain not helping the aesthetic whatsoever. She breathed in the humid air and huffed it back out.
*How can a place be so warm yet so cold at the same time?* She thought to herself, her heeled Mary Jane's clicking across the pavement as she made her way to the clubhouse. Her school blazer doing absolutely nothing to save her brown hair from being drenched, the bouncy curls springing back to life around her face like the rain was resurrecting them. Her legs covered in goosebumps for her tights were thin and barely there.
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Growing up there she should have known that the weather was bipolar but she decided against bringing a coat to her last day of college.
The evening was coming and she knew it was time to speed up her journey. Every so often she'd walk around a puddle thanks to the cracks and dips of the paths, a few bumps into the ongoing passerby further fuelling the frustration that began to bubble inside her.
Lampposts began to flicker as she turned the corner of a building of Victorian architecture. She pounded on the emerald green door causing an echo to engulf the quiet street. She stepped back as she rolled her eyes, she could hear the music from inside and she knew it was another one of their parties filled with croweaters and drugs. *My dad's two favourite things* She thought with a scoff.
The door opened soon after by a prospect whom she didn't know the name of. She never kept tabs on them, they were always coming and going but they knew she was the princess of the club and therefore they ensured to give her the upmost respect. He lowered his head and held open the door for her, allowing her to step inside and be hit with the smell of alcohol. Her ears and nose were one thing but what her eyes saw really made her question her existence. In front of her was the lively bar of the clubhouse. The counter with bar stools in the far right corner held racks and racks of booze behind the bar.
The men were sprawled out across the room some at the bar, some dotted around the tables and walls. The pool table being crowded as an intense game unfolded. The air was full of smoke and she smelt the weed from where she stood. Was this her life? Yes. The croweaters were grinding and sucking up to the men in kuttes which made her roll her eyes. She gripped onto the strap of her black backpack, while she turned her head behind her to watch the prospect just bow his head again. She turned her whole body to face him.
"Another party?" Mileena asked the young man, shifting from feet to feet- she never liked the club parties, especially the looks she'd get from the drunken men who in the morning she'd have to treat like her uncles. They watched her grow up from infancy yet still can't keep it in their pants.
"Yes ma'am" He replied as he stood stationary at the door his eyes meeting hers with a sympathetic gaze.
