How the Sons Saved Me

Ok guys, this is my first attempt at writing/publishing a fanfic. Would love feed back, good OR bad!!!

Disclaimer: I (unfortunately) do not own the Sons. I do however own Cian and any other original characters. NOTE: This disclamer is for the whole story!!!!

Chapter 1

I had never been so terrified in my life before waking up naked and bound by metal handcuffs that connected my hands to my feet, in a wooden crate. I attempted to find a way out of the crate, but to my utter disappointment it was a solidly built crate with no chance of me escaping.

 I began to make an effort to remember how I came to be in a wooden box. My recollection of the events that took place before I awoke was splotchy at best. I remembered beatings and obedience training but nothing of where I had been, or how I came to be in this crate.

It seemed as time dragged on as I had no way of telling if it was night or day; all I had was, the sway of the ship and the sound of men not far from the crate I was in.

It seemed that time stood still until suddenly, the swaying and the sound of men ceased. Light suddenly streamed into the crate from holes placed along all the panels of the crate I was in and the crate was suddenly moving upwards.

The noise began to rise as the crate moved upwards, creaking and swaying from side to side. I attempted to peak out the tiny holes in the panels but to no avail. I could only see the open blue sky and the ocean. As I watched the sky come closer and closer the crate was suddenly lowered on to a hard deck; before being slid into what I later figured out to be flat bed truck.

There were sounds of ratchet straps being tied around the crate and the increased sounds of rough Irish voices sent me huddling closer to one corner. The men suddenly stopped talking, there was slamming of doors before we started moving.

I was bounced around the crate for at least 3 days with regular stops. My body was stiff and sore from being curled up for such a long period of time coupled with the constant whipping of the wind; it made me crave the stillness after a long day. 

During those 3 days I learnt that the man driving the truck was Irish and very irritated due to having to drive from Seattle to a town called Charming. This was all due to port patrol cancelling the Irish cargo ship coming into the local port and rerouting the ship to Washington.    

On the third day of the drive, with the sun low in the sky, we came to a final stop. A door was opened and I could hear the sound of a large group of American men. The door slammed closed and the sound of the group of men slowly quieted.

While I waited for the driver to return to the truck I attempted to watch the sun set through the holes in the sides. My quiet was short lived as there were suddenly male voices, surrounding the crate and I could see a sea of black leather vests, which sent me huddling once again to the corner of the crate once again. The sound of the ratchet straps being released made my curiousity spike along with my fear.

“Precious cargo in there lads.” The driver of the truck said with a chuckle.