~𝙼𝙾𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙽 𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙻𝚈𝙳𝙴~

𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕪 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣

The clubhouse was eerily quiet for once, the usual morning bustle not quite in full swing yet. The only sound Bellatrix registered was the dull pounding in her skull and the deep ache in her shoulder where Gemma had stitched her up. Every step she took felt sluggish, like her body was made of lead. The smell of iron clung to her, a mixture of dried blood and sweat from the night before.

She pushed open the bathroom door, wincing as the motion pulled at her wound. Her reflection in the mirror looked like shit—dark circles under her mismatched eyes, a streak of dried blood still clinging to her collarbone. She sighed, reaching into the medicine cabinet and pulling out the bottle of Percocet. She shook two into her palm, gripping them tight before making her way out of the room.

The bar was empty, save for a half-drunk beer someone had left from the night before and the lingering scent of cigarettes and whiskey. Bellatrix grabbed a fresh bottle of Coors Banquet from behind the bar, twisted off the cap with her teeth, and tilted it back before throwing the pills into her mouth and chasing them down with a long swallow of beer. The cold liquid numbed her throat, but it did nothing for the dull, burning throb in her shoulder.

She leaned against the bar, rolling her neck with a groan. Fucking hell, that was a mess last night.

The sound of heavy boots on the wooden floor pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned her head slightly to see Tig sauntering in, his wild curls a mess and his kutte hanging loosely over his bare chest. He looked like he hadn't slept much either.

"Jesus, Bellie," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face as he took her in. "You look like death warmed over."

She smirked, taking another swig of beer. "Feel like it too."

Tig eyed the beer bottle in her hand, then the empty space where the pill bottle had been before she stashed it away. He didn't say anything, just leaned on the bar beside her. "Gonna take it easy today?"

Bellatrix scoffed. "Have I ever?"

Tig let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Didn't think so." He nudged her gently, mindful of her injury. "You're one stubborn bitch, you know that?"

She smirked. "Yeah, but you love me for it."

Tig just shook his head, grabbing himself a beer and cracking it open. The two sat there in comfortable silence, the early morning light filtering through the clubhouse windows, knowing full well that the peace wouldn't last. Not in their world.

The quiet didn't last long. It never did.

One by one, the boys started rolling in, some looking just as worse for wear as Bellatrix, others still riding the adrenaline high from last night's chaos. Chibs was the first to make a comment, whistling low as he leaned against the bar.

"Christ, lass, ye collect bullet wounds like some folks collect stamps."

Happy grunted as he took a seat, arms crossed. "Should get a tally mark for each one."

Bellatrix smirked, rolling her shoulder despite the ache. "What, and turn my back into a fucking ledger?"

The room filled with low chuckles as more of the guys gathered around, all eyes flickering to her wound. Juice plopped down beside her, sipping his Red Bull. "At least it wasn't the hip this time."

Tig, still nursing his beer, finally turned to face her fully. "Alright, enough about her being a human goddamn bullet magnet. Someone wanna run me through what the hell happened after I brought my wounded wife to get patched up?" His blue eyes flickered between Chibs and Happy, waiting for someone to start talking.