💘( Healing the King! )✨

EIGHT

[ Dorylus ]

( 🤴🔨👸💋💑🏍 )

" Secrets are like bad stitches—they might hold for a while, but sooner or later, they'll rip open, and the wound'll fester worse than before. Truth cuts deep, no doubt, but it's clean. It gives folk a chance tae heal, even if it leaves a scar. The ones we care about deserve that much, Annie. Deserve the chance tae face it, not be blindsided when the truth decides tae rear it's ugly head. "

~ CHIBS TELFORD to ALU ORTIZ 

☆《》¤ 

ALU'S OUTFIT 

THE CLUBHOUSE was alive with the usual raucous energy of SAMCRO. Bottles clinked together as the men shared rounds of beer and whiskey, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of leather. Jax leaned back in his chair, nursing a drink as the guys laughed over a story Bobby was telling about one of their more disastrous runs.

The laughter died down just enough for Tig to pipe up, his signature mischievous smirk plastered across his face, "If no one's gonna say it, I will." He leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes locked on Jax. "What the hell is going on with you and Alu, man?"

Jax raised an eyebrow, caught off guard but not entirely surprised, "Nothing, man," he said coolly, taking another swig of his beer. "We agreed to be friends."

A chorus of exaggerated 'Oooohs' erupted around the room, followed by collective laughter.

"Friends?" Bobby repeated, shaking his head. "That's a damn myth, brother."

"Yeah," Opie chimed in, smirking. "Exes can never be friends, man. It's, like, a universal law."

"Bullshit," Jax retorted, rolling his eyes. "We can. We are."

"You think you can," Chibs added, leaning back with a knowing grin. "Until someone starts climbing through the bedroom window in the middle of the night."

The group erupted into laughter again, but Half-Sack, perched on a barstool with a sly grin, decided to stir the pot, "Word on the sheets is you and Alu got caught in some dangerous territory this morning."

Jax froze for a split second, then set his beer down with a thud, "Fucking Kimchee," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in exasperation.

Tig didn't miss a beat, "No, but he is." He jabbed a finger in Half-Sack's direction, and the room exploded into laughter.

Half-Sack's face reddened, but he held his ground, pointing a finger back at Tig, "Hey, it ain't gay unless you're the one taking it in the ass!"

The room went wild, guys hooting and hollering, pounding the bar as Tig threw his head back and laughed.

"Is that right?" Tig drawled, his grin widening dangerously.

"Oh, here we go," Juice chuckled, shaking his head.

Tig leaned forward, his tone mock-serious, "So, by that logic, if someone bends you over, you're good, but the second you bend over..."

Half-Sack shot him a glare, "You're twisting my words, man."

"Oh, I'm not twisting anything," Tig said with a wink. "But you are." 

The group roared with laughter again, the camaraderie thick and infectious. Jax grinned, shaking his head and throwing back the rest of his drink as he muttered, "Idiots. All of you."

"Yeah, but we're your idiots," Bobby shot back, raising his beer in a toast.

Jax raised his bottle in return as the group settled into their usual rhythm of banter and brotherhood. 

***

Gemma Teller leaned down, scowling at the brand new welcome mat on Alu's porch. She lifted it and cursed under her breath.

"Oh, shit. All right, you clever little bitch, where'd you hide that key?" she muttered, glancing around the porch. The pot plant by the railing caught her eye, and she shuffled over to check underneath it when a familiar voice startled her.

"You do remember I used to be a cop, right?" Wayne Unser's voice drawled from the driveway.

Gemma jumped, spinning around to glare at him, "Jesus Christ, Wayne! You trying to give me another heart attack?"

Unser chuckled, "Didn't mean to scare you. Just wondering what the hell you're doing lurking around out here."

Gemma gave him a sassy smile, pulling the spare key from under the pot plant, "Lurking? Please. I'm not that subtle." She strode to the front door, unlocking it with ease, "You're here to help, not question me."

Unser raised an eyebrow, "Help with what, exactly?"

She opened the door, turning back to him, "Wait here. You see Alu or Kimchee coming, knock on the door. Pretend you're here for a visit."

Unser sighed, "Really? You brought me here to be your goddamn spotter?"

Gemma smirked, "I'm finishing what I started," she said, disappearing inside.

Gemma marched through the house with purpose, heading straight for Alu's bedroom. The place still had the slight disarray of a recent move; boxes half-unpacked, clothes draped over chairs, and stray toys left behind by Moss. Ignoring the mess, Gemma began rifling through drawers and shelves, determined to find the letters. 

Meanwhile, outside, Unser was doing his best to keep an eye out. That was, until Alu's elderly neighbour called out to him from her garden, "Wayne! Is that you?"

Unser glanced over, debating whether to ignore her, but politeness won out. He headed over, giving her a small wave, "Hey, Mrs. Callahan. How's the gardening coming along?"

As he engaged in polite chatter, neither of them noticed the CPS worker pulling up in her car. The woman stepped out, clipboard in hand, and approached the house. After knocking several times with no response, she sighed and let herself in.

Gemma's search came to an abrupt halt when she heard the front door creak open. She froze, then quickly moved to look casual, leaning against the dresser as the woman entered the bedroom.

The CPS worker frowned, clearly caught off guard, "Who are you?" she asked, her tone clipped and suspicious. "And where is Ms. Ortiz? We had an appointment scheduled weeks ago."

Gemma gave her most disarming smile, "Oh, Alu's just dropping Moss off at school. They were running a little late this morning. She'll be back any minute now," she lied smoothly. 

In reality, Moss had stayed with Gemma yesterday and was the one to drop him off, before coming here. 

The woman's expression didn't soften. Instead, she hummed skeptically and began walking around the room, taking in the clutter. Her eyes narrowed as they landed on an open box of Alu's belongings.

"And you're her...?"

"Mother-in-law," Gemma said the first thing that came to mind, but then mentally facepalmed herself when she realised her mistake. 

"I didn't realise Ms. Ortiz was married." 

"Well, I basically am," Gemma said, flashing a tight smile as she felt the CPS lady's eyes bore into her. "She dated my son for a while there—great kid, but, you know, boys...Anyway, now we're just friends. Really close friends. Practically family."

The CPS lady raised an eyebrow. 

Gemma cleared her throat, "I'm just helping them settle in. You know how it is with a move and a kid—boxes everywhere, trying to find the damn can opener. Total chaos."

The woman didn't blink.

"And by chaos, I mean organised chaos. Very responsible chaos. Totally safe chaos," Gemma added quickly, her usual confidence slipping. "It's fine. They're fine. Everyone's fine."

The CPS lady hummed sceptically, jotting something down in her notebook, and Gemma shifted uncomfortably. 

"You, uh, want some coffee? Tea? Wine?"

"While working? No, thank you," the woman said flatly.

"Right, of course," Gemma muttered, shooting a look at the heavens as if begging for patience.

The CPS worker's lips thinned as she moved into the hallway, her gaze sweeping over the slightly untidy living room, "Mm-hmm," she murmured, her tone clearly unimpressed. "This isn't exactly ideal. Especially considering Ms. Ortiz knew how important this visit was."

Gemma bristled but kept her smile in place, "It's been a hectic morning. You understand, right?"

The woman's eyes flicked back to Gemma, "I'll wait for her. But I'll be noting this in my report."

Gemma's jaw tightened, but she nodded, "Of course. Make yourself at home."

As the CPS worker moved to the living room, Gemma slipped her phone from her pocket and quickly texted Alu: 'CPS lady's here. Get your ass back home now!'

***

The studio had a strange comfort to it. The bright lights, the smell of perfume, and the faint hum of activity made it feel alive, even on a slow day. Alu perched on the edge of a worn couch in the lounge area, watching Lyla unpack her bag, while Ima lounged across the other couch, lazily flipping through a magazine.

"Friends with Jax, huh?" Lyla asked, setting down a bottle of water and a snack on the coffee table. She smiled warmly, clearly trying to be supportive, "That's so sweet. You guys have been through so much together. A clean slate could be good for both of you."

Alu shrugged, trying not to make a big deal out of it. "Yeah, we talked. It's what we need. Just... friends—uncomplicated."

Lyla nodded, her face practically glowing with approval, "I think that's really mature of you both."

Ima snorted, breaking the serene mood. She dropped the magazine onto her lap and rolled her eyes, "Sweet? Mature? Please. You two being 'just friends' is the funniest joke I've heard all week."

Alu frowned, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Ima drawled, sitting up and smirking. "That by the end of the week, you and Jax are gonna be screwing like rabbits again. Friends. Yeah, sure. That always works out."

"Hey!" Lyla interjected, her tone defensive. "It's possible! People can have boundaries, Ima."

"Boundaries," Ima repeated, laughing so hard she nearly fell off the couch. "The only boundary those two have is the one between the bar and the pool table where they probably made out last week!"

Alu groaned, burying her face in her hands, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ima. Real nice."

Ima shrugged, "I'm just saying it like it is, babe. You and Jax are like gasoline and fire. You burn bright, but you also blow everything to hell."

"Speaking of blowing things up," Lyla said, steering the conversation with a nervous laugh, "What's going on with Elliot? Haven't heard you mention him in a while."

Alu sighed, leaning back against the couch, "We've...kind of hit pause. It's been weird since the bathroom thing with Jax last week."

Ima raised an eyebrow, "Wait, what bathroom thing? Did you—?"

"No!" Alu cut her off quickly, her cheeks heating. "It wasn't like that. Jax just...showed up while I was in there. We talked. It got...intense. Emotionally, not—" She stopped herself as Ima gave her a knowing look. "Okay, not like that! But since then, Elliot's been texting me, trying to call, and I just...I don't know what to do."

"Why don't you answer him?" Lyla asked gently.

"Because Vinny's in town," Alu said, her voice tinged with fear. "He could hurt him. Or worse. Just to get to me." 

Ima and Lyla exchanged a look, before Ima shook her head, "Alu, hate to break it to you, but staying away from Elliot isn't gonna protect him."

"Yeah," Lyla added, her expression soft but serious. "The fact that you care about him at all is enough for Vinny to target him. You can't stop that, no matter how much distance you try to put between you two."

Alu groaned again, running a hand through her hair, "You guys are so helpful, you know that?"

"Hey, just being real," Ima said with a smirk. "That's what friends are for."

Before Alu could retort, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at it, then froze, her eyes widening in panic, "Shit."

"What?" Lyla asked, concerned.

"I had a CPS appointment this morning!" Alu bolted up, grabbing her jacket from the couch. "I'm late! Oh, my God, I'm so late!"

Ima burst out laughing, "Friends, Jax, Elliot, Vinny, and CPS? Babe, your life's like a bad soap opera."

Alu shot her a glare, pulling on her jacket, "Thanks for the support, Ima."

"Anytime!" Ima called after her as Alu sprinted toward the door.

Lyla shook her head with a small smile, "She's gonna be fine. Right?"

Ima shrugged, "If by 'fine' you mean 'barely keeping it together,' then yeah. She'll be great."

***

Alu pulled into the driveway, her heart racing. Cursing under her breath, she climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind her.

Inside, she found Moss' stern-looking caseworker sitting stiffly on the living room couch, clipboard balanced on her knee, a pair of glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Gemma sat opposite her, arms crossed, looking like a cat who got caught raiding the pantry but refusing to feel guilty.

"Ms. Ortiz," the woman said sharply, standing as Alu entered. "You're late."

"Yeah, sorry," Alu said, trying to catch her breath and forcing a polite smile. "I got held up."

The woman's lips pursed tightly, "Your appointment was scheduled weeks ago, Ms. Ortiz. It's important that we stick to these times. Carlos' welfare depends on it."

Hearing Moss' real name sounded so formal, so distant, it almost made Alu bristle. But she held back. This wasn't about her; it was about him.

"Right. Of course," she said, setting her keys down on the kitchen counter and motioning toward the couch, "Please, sit and...we talk about whatever you need to know."

The caseworker nodded but didn't sit. Instead, she began pacing the room, eyes scanning everything with meticulous detail, "You've moved recently, correct?"

"Yes, just yesterday actually. Things are still...a bit chaotic. As you can see." 

The woman's gaze landed on a pile of books stacked haphazardly on a side table and a laundry basket sitting by the stairs. She raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. Instead, she flipped a page on her clipboard, "Carlos has been under your care for how long now?"

"About 2 years," Alu replied, shifting uncomfortably under the woman's scrutinising gaze.

"And you're his biological mother, correct?"

"Yes."

The caseworker nodded, jotting something down before looking up again, "And you're twenty-three?"

"Twenty-four," Alu corrected.

The woman's sharp eyes didn't soften, "Raising a seven-year-old boy is a lot for someone your age. How are you handling it?"

Alu hesitated, unsure how honest to be, "It's...been a challenge. But Moss—Carlos—is a good kid. We're figuring things out together."

The caseworker hummed, a noncommittal sound that sent Alu's anxiety skyrocketing, "You're aware that consistency and structure are critical for a child his age, especially given his circumstances."

"Yes, I know that."

"Then why was his breakfast dish still on the kitchen counter when I arrived?"

Alu blinked, caught off guard, "I—he was running late this morning. I didn't have time to—"

The woman cut her off with a curt nod, "And his room? Is it consistently clean?"

"Yes," Alu said firmly. "He keeps it tidy. I make sure of it."

The caseworker scribbled something else down, then turned to face her, "Ms. Ortiz, I'm not here to nitpick. But you need to understand that any sign of neglect—no matter how small—raises concerns. Carlos has already experienced trauma. He needs stability, discipline, and care. Do you believe you can continue to provide that for him?"

Alu met the woman's gaze, her jaw tightening, "Yes. Absolutely. I love my son. He is my whole world. I do anything for him." 

The caseworker studied her for a moment, then sighed, her expression softening just slightly, "I don't doubt your intentions. You clearly love your son. But love isn't always enough. It takes a village to raise a child, Ms. Ortiz. Do you have a support system in place?"

Alu hesitated, thinking of Kimchee, Juice, her mother, Elliot (even though things were rocky between them at the moment), and even Gemma, who was hovering in the kitchen pretending not to eavesdrop, "Yes. I do."

"Good. Because Carlos needs that. He needs people who are reliable, present, and invested in his well-being."

"I know," Alu said quietly.

The caseworker nodded, flipping her clipboard shut, "I'll be checking in regularly. If you need resources or support, don't hesitate to ask. And please, make sure you're always on time for our appointments."

"I will," Alu promised.

The woman gave her one last, assessing look before heading toward the door, "Good. I'll see myself out."

As the door clicked shut, Alu let out a long breath and dropped onto the couch. Gemma wandered in from the kitchen, shaking her head, "Damn, girl," she said. "That woman's scarier than half the men I know."

Alu laughed weakly, but the weight of the visit still hung over her, "She's just doing her job."

"Yeah, well," Gemma said, sitting down beside her. "You're doing yours too. Don't let her get under your skin."

Alu nodded, though the knot in her stomach didn't loosen, "I just want Moss to have a good life, Gemma."

"And he will," Gemma said firmly. "Because he's got you." 

***

The house was eerily quiet after the CPS caseworker left. Alu sat at the kitchen table, staring at the faint coffee ring left on the wood. She hadn't touched her drink since Gemma handed it to her earlier, and now it was cold, just like the pit in her stomach.

Gemma stepped into the room, her heels clicking softly against the floor. She leaned on the doorway, arms crossed, watching Alu with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

"Why were you even here when the CPS lady got here?" Alu finally asked, breaking the silence.

Gemma's lips pressed into a thin line. She reached into her bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper, setting it on the table in front of Alu, "Found this in your bag, attached to a stack of letters," she said evenly. "Where'd you get them?"

Alu's brow furrowed as she picked up the note, glancing at it. Her stomach dropped, "Letters? What letters?" she asked, her voice laced with mock confusion.

Gemma's eyes narrowed, "You hiding something from me, baby?"

"Why would I do that, Gem?"

"Same reason you keep answering my questions with questions."

Alu sighed, leaning back in her chair, "Sounds like you already know the answers."

"No...I don't," Gemma said, her tone sharper now. "What I do know is that letters from John Teller would be very painful for my son to read."

The mention of John Teller made Alu sit up straighter, "Why?"

Gemma hesitated, her gaze falling to the table. For the first time, she looked vulnerable, almost fragile, "Our trip to Belfast stirred up all kinds of old shit," she began, her voice softer now. "I had already fallen in love with Clay. When Thomas died...I didn't care anymore. I didn't even try to hide it. That was a mistake. Put Clay at risk...it was humiliating for JT."

Alu didn't interrupt, sensing that Gemma was unpacking something heavy.

"Jax doesn't know any of that," Gemma continued. "Him finding out could set things off with Clay. John ripped me apart. Spent months at a time in Belfast with her. Left me here. Alone. With his sons."

Gemma's voice broke slightly, and Alu instinctively reached for her hands, "Sorry," Alu murmured, squeezing them gently.

Gemma gave a small, bitter laugh, shaking her head, "I loved him. Like you love Jax."

Alu stiffened, avoiding Gemma's piercing gaze.

"Oh, don't try and hide it, sweetheart. I can see it," Gemma said knowingly. "It's written all over your face whenever you look at him. You look at him the way I used to look at John. Like he was my goddamn world."

Alu opened her mouth to argue, but no words came out.

Gemma leaned in closer, "Those letters ain't good for anybody. You understand me? Wherever they lead, it's bad for my family. Bad for Jax."

She stood, smoothing her blouse as if brushing off the weight of the conversation. She reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and pulled out the spare key she used to get inside and held it out for Alu to take. But Alu simply waved a dismissive hand, "Keep the key, Gem. Seriously, next time, just ask. You don't have to sneak around. If I knew you were coming, I would've left the door open for you. Open door policy, remember? Same one you've had for me and Moss for the past 2 years. There's a reason he calls you Mama G. He loves you, respects you—just like I do. No more sneaking around, okay? You don't need to. We're family." 

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Gemma's lips as she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Alu's forehead, "I love you, baby," she whispered, before turning and walking out of the room. 

Alu ran a hand through her hair, her thoughts spinning in a million directions. She glanced down at the note in her hand, then toward the front door where Gemma had disappeared.

More confused than ever—what the hell was she supposed to do now?

One Year Earlier 

The sterile hum of fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, the coldness of the room softened only by the intimacy of their moment. The conjugal room wasn't much, just a small space with a bed pushed against the wall, but it was theirs for the hour. Alu sat astride Jax, her movements slow and deliberate, every touch and glance heavy with care.

Jax's shirt was off, revealing the healing stab wound along his side. The angry red gash was puckered with fresh stitches, and though he tried to mask his pain, Alu saw it in the way his jaw tightened every so often.

"You okay, baby?" she whispered, pausing to brush a strand of hair from his face. "I'm not hurting you, am I?" Her palms rested lightly on his chest, fingers tracing over his ink as though she could soothe his pain with her touch.

"No, I'm good," Jax said, his voice a low rasp. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her gently. "Don't stop, baby girl. I've needed this—needed you." 

Alu searched his eyes, her own filled with tenderness and a flicker of concern, "Tell me if it hurts, okay? I mean it, Jackson." 

He smirked softly, though his gaze betrayed his exhaustion, "You're the only thing that doesn't hurt right now." 

She leaned down, her lips brushing against his in a kiss that was as much a promise as it was an apology, "I hate seeing you like this, baby," she murmured. "It breaks my heart." 

"I'm here," he said simply, his fingers tightening slightly on her hips. "With you. That's all I need."

Alu shifted carefully, her movements deliberate and measured, doing her best to keep from jostling his side. Every small noise he made—whether a sharp intake of breath or a quiet groan—had her pausing to check his face.

"You're too good to me," Jax murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"You deserve it," she replied, her forehead resting against his. Her dark hair fell around them like a curtain, cocooning them in their own little world. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me in a long time." 

"I should be saying that to you. I don't know what I'd do without you. You were right, darlin'. I do need you," he admitted, his voice almost breaking.

"I need you too," Alu whispered back. 

The intensity of their connection hung heavy in the room, every touch and glance conveying things words couldn't. Despite the pain, despite the walls around them, for that moment, they were free.

As they moved together, Jax's hand came up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek, "I love you," he said quietly, the sincerity in his voice sending a shiver through her.

"I love you too," she replied, her voice equally soft.

And for those fleeting moments, surrounded by the cold, unforgiving walls of Stockton, they found warmth and solace in each other.

***

The sound of her heels echoed faintly against the hardwood floors as Alu pushed through the clubhouse door. She couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at her lips. The warmth from her conjugal visit with Jax still lingered, a soft glow radiating from her as she entered the familiar space.

Piney sat alone at the table near the bar, a plate of steak and potatoes in front of him. He glanced up from his meal, his eyes narrowing slightly as he registered her presence, "Well, look who's back," he muttered, his tone gruff but not unkind.

"Hey, Piney," she greeted, shrugging off her jacket and draping it over the back of the chair across from him. "Gemma in the office?" 

"Yep," he replied, chewing. "But somethin' tells me you're not here for her."

"Is it that obvious?" 

Piney set his fork down, studying her for a moment, before gesturing to the coffee pot on the bar, "Want a cup?"

She shook her head politely, "No, thank you."

He raised an eyebrow, then jabbed his fork toward his plate, "How about a bite? Steak's good today."

She let out a soft laugh, waving him off, "I'm fine, but thanks."

He leaned back slightly, curiosity now fully piqued, "All right, darling. What's on your mind?"

She hesitated for a moment, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the table, "I wanted to ask you about John Teller's death."

The room seemed to grow quieter, as if the air itself had shifted. Piney's expression hardened, his hand tightening around his coffee mug, "He was hit by a semi," he said bluntly, his tone making it clear he didn't want to elaborate.

"I know," she said softly, her voice carrying a note of empathy. "I can't imagine how hard that must've been for you. But...don't you think it's strange? I mean, with the club having so many enemies, could it have been more than just an accident?"

Piney's eyes narrowed further, his jaw clenching, "It was an accident," he said firmly, his voice sharp enough to cut through the tension.

Sensing his growing agitation, Alu treaded carefully, "I'm not trying to disrespect his memory, Piney," she said. "It's just...I've been reading some of the things John wrote. And he talked about you."

Piney's eyebrows knitted together, "What'd he say?"

She hesitated, then pressed on, "He said you were his best friend. The only one he felt he could trust."

Piney's posture relaxed slightly, but his expression remained guarded. 

He also said he didn't trust Clay," she added, her voice quieter now. "That he feared him—he feared for his life, Piney."  

Her words hung in the air like a loaded gun. Piney's face darkened, and his fist slammed down on the table, making her flinch, "Enough!" he barked, his voice low but dangerous.

Alu froze, her heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, she thought he might storm out, but instead, he closed his eyes, taking a long, steady breath. When he opened them again, his gaze softened slightly as he noticed the flicker of fear in her eyes, "Listen to me, girl," he said, his voice quieter now but no less serious. "Whatever you think you want to know, you don't. This..." he gestured vaguely toward the air, as if encompassing the whole mess of the club's history, "...it's not your fight. It'll only get you hurt. Or worse, get Jax or your boy hurt."

Her expression faltered, sadness creeping into her features, "But—"

"Dead history," Piney interrupted, his tone final. "That's all it is. Dead history. Let it stay buried."

He pushed back from the table, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor as he stood. Without another word, he walked away, leaving his half-eaten steak and steaming hot cup of coffee behind.

Alu sat there for a moment, staring at the table. The weight of his words pressed heavily on her chest, and she fought the sting of tears in her eyes. Slowly, she rose from her seat, slipping her jacket back on.

As she left the clubhouse, the glow from earlier was gone, replaced by a gnawing sense of confusion and unease. Whatever she had hoped to find in John Teller's letters, she now realised the answers might cost more than she was willing to pay.

The low hum of engines outside faded as Alu stepped into the clubhouse, her boots scuffing against the worn floorboards. The scent of old leather, grease, and faintly lingering whiskey wrapped around her like a familiar, bittersweet embrace.

Chibs was seated at the bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his sharp eyes scanning the room out of habit. He spotted her instantly and offered a small, knowing smile, "Alu," he greeted, his thick Scottish accent adding a warmth to her name. "What brings ye here, lass? Juicy is out on a run. Won't be back for an hour or so." 

"I know," she said, hesitating slightly, before stepping closer. "I, uh...I was actually hoping to talk to you. Privately."

Chibs raised an eyebrow, intrigued but unruffled. He motioned toward the back hallway, "Aye, come on then. Chapel is empty."

She followed him, her stomach twisting in knots as she ran over the words she wanted to say. Once inside, Chibs shut the door and leaned casually against it, his head tilting slightly as he studied her, "What's on yer mind, Annie?" he asked, using the nickname he'd adopted for her. 

She took a deep breath and sat down in one of the chairs, clasping her hands tightly together in her lap, "If you knew something," she began carefully. "Something that could hurt someone you cared about...but you also knew they deserved to know...what would you do?"

Chibs' expression grew thoughtful, his lips pressing into a thin line as he considered her question. He set his glass down on the table and crossed his arms over his chest, "Secrets," he said after a moment, his voice low and steady. "Are like bad stitches—they might hold for a while, but sooner or later, they'll rip open, and the wound'll fester worse than before." He paused, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "Truth cuts deep, no doubt, but it's clean. It gives folks a chance tae heal, even if it leaves a scar. The ones we care about deserve that much, Annie. Deserve the chance tae face it, not be blindsided when the truth decides tae rear its ugly head."

His words hung in the air, heavy and raw, striking a chord deep within her. Alu looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting together nervously, "But what if it breaks him?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "What if it changes everything between us?"

Chibs let out a long breath, moving to kneel down in front of her, taking her hands in his, "Change is inevitable, lass," he said gently. "We can't stop it, no matter how hard we try. But Jax loves you that will never change," he said, having a pretty good feeling who she was talking about here. "Though, hiding the truth—protectin' him by keepin' him in the dark—that only makes it worse when it finally comes out. And it always comes out, one way or another."

Alu lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes shimmering with uncertainty, "So, you're saying I should tell him? Even if it breaks his heart?"

Chibs gave her a sad smile, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "Aye. If you love him in the way I know you do, tell him. Give him the respect he deserves. Let him decide how tae handle it, instead of decidin' for him." 

She nodded slowly, her heart feeling both heavier and lighter at the same time. Chibs had always been one of the few people she could turn to for advice, and his words carried a weight she couldn't ignore, "Thanks, Chibs," she said softly, standing up and brushing her hands down her jeans.

Following suit, he gave her shoulder a light squeeze, "Anytime, lass. And remember—whatever this is about, ye're not alone. Ye've got people who'll stand by ye, no matter what."

Alu managed a small smile, though her mind was already spinning with the implications of what she had to do. As she left the chapel and stepped back into the clubhouse, Chibs' words echoed in her mind, giving her both clarity and courage.

Some wounds had to be reopened to heal properly. And she just had to hope that this one wouldn't leave scars too deep to bear.

***

The garage was quieter than usual, the lull of the afternoon giving the clubhouse an unusual stillness. Alu leaned against her car, her arms crossed as she waited for Jax to finish his conversation with Bobby near the office. Her heart pounded as she rehearsed what she was going to say.

The truth. All of it. She was done hiding it. 

Jax finally stepped away, lighting a cigarette as he strolled toward her. He smiled that easy, boyish grin that always made her chest ache, "Hey, darlin'. Heard you've been lookin' for me?"

"Yeah," she said, pushing off the hood and walking toward him. Her voice wavered, and she cleared her throat, forcing herself to meet his gaze, "I—I need to talk to you. It's kind of important."

Jax frowned slightly, his eyebrows knitting together in concern, "Everything okay?"

Alu glanced around, noting the empty yard, "Let's go inside. This isn't something I want to say out here."

Jax studied her for a moment, sensing her unease, but nodded. He tossed his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot, before leading the way into the clubhouse.

They stepped into the main room, the faint smell of grease and beer lingering in the air. Before Alu could speak, the door to the chapel creaked open, and Clay's voice rang out, "Jax!"

Jax turned, his hand resting on Alu's back, "What's up?"

Clay stood in the doorway, his presence commanding as always, but his eyes weren't on Jax. They were locked on Alu, "I need you for somethin'," he said, his tone casual, almost dismissive. But his gaze told another story.

Alu felt the weight of it instantly. There was no mistaking the silent warning in his eyes—'Keep your mouth shut, bitch!' 

Her heart thudded painfully as the unspoken accusation passed between them. She knew the truth. And he knew she knew.

Jax, oblivious to the charged moment, sighed and nodded, "Yeah, all right. Gimme a minute."

Clay shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, "Can't wait, son. Club business. You two can bump uglies later." 

Jax glanced back at Alu, his expression apologetic, "We'll talk later, okay, babe? Promise."

Before she could respond, he was already moving toward the chapel, his boots echoing on the hardwood floor.

Clay lingered in the doorway, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Alu. His message was clear, written in the cold steel of his stare—'Don't do anything you'll regret, sweetheart.'

Alu clenched her fists at her sides, her pulse racing with a mix of anger and fear. She wanted to scream, to tell Jax to turn around, to force the truth into the light. But the words caught in her throat as Clay gave her one last look and stepped into the chapel, closing the door behind them.

The sound of it latching was deafening.

Alu stood there, frozen, the weight of what she knew pressing down on her chest like a heavy stone. She turned slowly and walked toward the bar, her mind racing. 

Clay thought he'd silenced her. But he was wrong.

She wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

***

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