💘( Healing the King! )✨

SIX

[ Dorylus ]

( 🤴🔨👸💋💑🏍 )

" When Adela Rain Ortiz was sixteen she met and fell in love with a chef that worked at her favourite restaurant. But this chef, right? He was a bad man—Cartel bad. Naturally, her parents, didn't approve, so they ran away together, and moved to Queens, New York. And had two beautiful children—A boy and a girl. "

~ ELI ROOSEVELT to JUICE ORTIZ 

☆《》¤ 

KIMCHEE & ALU'S HOUSE 

ALU'S OUTFIT 

THE EARLY MORNING SUN filtered through the windows of Alu and Kimchee's freshly renovated home. Boxes and furniture filled every room as members of SAMCRO lent a hand to help them move in. 

Alu balanced a box labeled 'Clothes' in her arms, heading toward the master bedroom. She maneuvered carefully around the chaos but stopped short when she nearly collided with a broad figure in the hallway. Jumping in fright, she almost dropped the box.

"Sorry," Clay said, his deep voice tinged with amusement.

Alu's heart raced, and she gave him a suspicious look, "It's okay. What are you doing down here?"

"I was just looking for the bathroom," he replied smoothly, gesturing vaguely.

"It's that way," she said, nodding toward the kitchen. "On your left."

Clay chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck, "Right. Big house. Got a bit lost."

Alu offered a small, awkward smile, "Not really."

Clay's expression softened as he leaned against the doorframe, "I've been meaning to thank you, actually...for everything you did while we were all inside. Chibs told me how you helped keep things together. It means a lot."

Alu shrugged modestly, "Of course."

He smiled, the lines around his eyes deepening, "Jax is an idiot for letting you go. But I just want you to know, no matter what happens between you two, you're always going to be family when SAMCRO is concerned." He placed a hand on her arm briefly, "You're a great mum, and you would've made a great old lady."

The sincerity in his tone caught her off guard, but she managed a soft, "Thank you."

Clay nodded, his gaze distant for a moment, "Raising Jax was the best thing that ever happened to me. I love my son...as much as I loved his old man."

Before Alu could respond, Moss came barrelling down the hallway, his small arms wrapping tightly around her waist, "Mami! Mami! Guess what?"

She laughed, ruffling his hair, "What, baby?"

"Gemma took me and Abel to this new breakfast place! They had pancakes with chocolate chips and whipped cream!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement.

Just then, Gemma appeared behind him, Abel on her hip, and a satisfied smirk on her face, "Figured I'd keep him out of your hair for a bit."

Alu smiled warmly at her, "Thanks, Gem. I don't know what I'd do without you. Mum's at the church, and I've been swamped with getting the house ready before CPS shows up tomorrow."

Gemma waved her off, "Don't stress too much. If that CPS bitch can't understand that a house might be a little upside down right after moving in, she's dumber than she looks."

Alu sighed, "I know. I just don't want to give them any extra fuel to use against me."

As if on cue, Kimchee passed by with Half-Sack, each carrying a box. Kimchee smirked, "You should've seen her last appointment. She was scrubbing the walls from floor to ceiling."

The room erupted into laughter, the shared moment of levity cutting through the day's stress. Even Gemma cracked a grin, shaking her head at the image.

For a moment, Alu let herself relax, soaking in the warmth of her family. 

***

The house buzzed with activity as the sound of laughter, chatter, and the occasional thud of furniture being moved filled the air. Outside, the boys kicked a ball around in the yard, their shouts and cheers drifting in through the open windows. Alu's bag rested innocently on the dining table, an inviting target for Gemma's curiosity.

With a casual glance to ensure no one was watching, Gemma stepped into the room, her movements swift and deliberate. She unzipped the bag and rummaged through its contents, careful to avoid making too much noise. Her fingers brushed against papers, and then—bingo—a neatly folded envelope bearing John Teller's handwriting.

Gemma pulled the letter out, her breath hitching as she read the address. Her eyes scanned the familiar penmanship, her grip tightening around the fragile paper. But before she could fully examine it, the sound of a creaking floorboard made her freeze.

"Mama G?" Moss' small voice startled her.

Gemma quickly stuffed the letter behind her back, her heart racing as she turned to face him with a wide, forced smile, "Hey, sweetheart," she said lightly, trying to sound casual. "Didn't see you there."

Moss tilted his head, his bright eyes narrowing suspiciously, "What are you doing in Mami's bag?"

Gemma glanced around the room, her mind racing for an excuse, "Looking for a light," she said smoothly.

Moss frowned, noticing the lighter on the counter, "It's right there," he said, pointing at it.

Gemma laughed, though it sounded a little too loud, even to her own ears, "Well, would you look at that," she said, grabbing the lighter with her free hand. "Must be going blind in my old age." She winked at him, hoping to deflect his suspicion.

Moss didn't seem entirely convinced, but he didn't press further. Instead, he reached into the fridge for a juice box. Gemma took the opportunity to retreat, clutching the letter behind her back as she moved toward the door.

"Thanks for pointing it out, kiddo," she said over her shoulder. "I'm gonna head outside for a quick smoke. You let me know if you need anything, alright?"

"Okay," Moss replied, still watching her closely as she slipped out the door.

Once outside, Gemma leaned against the porch railing, the letter trembling slightly in her hand. She exhaled a shaky breath, lighting her cigarette and tucking the letter into her jacket. As she stared out at the yard, where Alu played without a care in the world, she couldn't help but smile. 

***

The warm California sun beat down as Alu stepped out of the marijuana dispensary, her cheeks flushed with the lingering effects of whatever the boys had convinced her to try inside. Juice and Chibs trailed behind her, both laughing as the Scotsman recounted his time in the bathroom. 

"Oh-ho!" Chibs exclaimed, patting his stomach with exaggerated satisfaction. "That was crazy. I just saw some stuff in there I ate when I was seven years old. I'm, like, 100 pounds lighter. I'm a brand-new man."

Juice doubled over with laughter, his hands on his knees. Alu, however, wrinkled her nose in disgust, "You're disgusting."

Before Chibs could retort, his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket, answering with his usual charm, "Hey! Just got a full cleanse," he quipped, waving his free hand animatedly.

The moment of levity was shattered by the sudden squeal of tires and the sharp blip of a siren. A patrol car screeched to a stop at the curb, and two deputies stepped out with purpose.

Juice's laughter died instantly. His demeanour shifted as he instinctively moved Alu behind him, shielding her with his body. 

"Hang on," Chibs muttered into his phone, quickly ending the call. "Ah, you know what? Sure, I'll call you back."

Alu peeked around her brother, the effects of her earlier indulgence fading fast. Despite the tension, her mouth worked on autopilot, "If you guys are heading in," she mocked, her words slurred just enough to earn a side-eye from Juice. "I recommend the green tea and mint."

Juice and Chibs both chuckled, but the officers weren't amused.

"Hands on the wall. Let's go," ordered Deputy Martinez, his tone sharp with no-nonsense.

"What the hell?" Alu protested, stepping forward, only for Juice to shoot her a warning look.

Before the boys could comply, Martinez and his partner, Deputy Cane, forcibly turned Juice and Chibs toward the wall. 

The rough treatment made Alu bristle, "Hey! Hands off my brother!" she snapped, grabbing for Martinez's arm. A quick shove sent her stumbling backward, landing hard on her backside. 

"Shit, Alu!" Juice shouted, his protective instincts firing as he tried to turn, only to be shoved harder against the wall.

Chibs growled low in his throat, his Glaswegian accent sharp, "Easy, ya bloody wanker. She's a lass, not a threat."

Alu pushed herself up, glaring daggers, "He's got a card for that, assholes," she spat, watching as Deputy Cane pulled a small stash of weed from Juice's pocket.

"Congratulations," Martinez sneered. "But the federal government doesn't give a shit."

"This some kind of joke?" Juice demanded, his voice tight with restrained fury.

"Does that feel like a joke?" Cane asked as he snapped handcuffs onto Juice's wrists with a harsh click.

Martinez grabbed Juice by the arm, dragging him toward the patrol car, "Let's go."

Alu moved to stop them, but Chibs held her back, his strong hands firm on her shoulders, "No, love," he said quietly. "Don't make it worse."

Her heart pounded as she watched Juice being shoved into the back seat of the patrol car. Panic bubbled in her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm, calling out to her brother, "Juice! Sit tight! I'll call Kimchee!"

Juice glanced back at her, his expression a mix of anger and worry, before the door slammed shut. The car sped off, taking him away.

With shaky fingers, Alu fumbled for her phone as she dialled Kimchee's number, her breath coming in shallow bursts. Chibs stood beside her, his jaw tight.

"Don't worry, darling," Chibs said, his voice low and steady. "We'll get him out."

Alu nodded, swallowing hard as the phone rang in her ear. She had to believe him. She couldn't afford not to.

***

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting hues of burnt orange shadows over the small trailer. Inside was quiet, the soft hum of the Television was the only sound that could be heard. Wayne Unser leaned back in his recliner, a cup of coffee in hand, when a sharp knock at the door shattered his calm.

The former Chief rose to his feet and open the door to find Gemma Teller-Morrow, her face a mask of panic, "We got a problem, Wayne," she announced, pushing past him without waiting for an invitation.

Unser blinked, startled, "Nice to see you too," he muttered, closing the door with a sigh.

Gemma paced the small space like a caged animal, her hands gesturing wildly, "I think Alu knows about John."

Unser chuckled nervously, the sound more a reflex than genuine amusement, "H-How is that possible?"

Gemma whirled to face him, her voice rising, "John had another old lady. In Belfast. Before he was killed, he was writing her letters, spilling his guts, sharing all his secrets. She tried to send those letters home with Alu. Bet she told her to give them to Jax. Probably thought he'd burn them if she gave them to him herself."

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a folded piece of paper and thrust it at Unser, "I found this in Alu's bag. It was attached to the letters."

Unser unfolded the note, his eyes scanning the words. His eyebrows furrowed as he read, then he glanced up at Gemma, "And you read 'em?"

Gemma's lips pressed into a thin line, "One I did. It was JT wringing his guilt about Thomas, his failed marriage, and his fear of Clay and me getting closer." Her voice dropped, heavy with implication.

Unser exhaled, folding the note back up, "That's just speculation."

Gemma's eyes flashed, her tone sharp, "A girl like Alu? That's all she'd need. You've seen how she dotes over my son, Wayne. She's got that righteous streak. If she thinks telling him would protect him—" She broke off, shaking her head.

Unser scratched his head, the lines on his face deepening, "Uh, you tell Clay?"

"Yeah," Gemma said, her voice tight with frustration. "He didn't give it any weight. He didn't know John the way I did."

Unser nodded slowly, weighing her words, "You know, Clay's got a lot on his mind. Best we don't burden him with this shit. Not until we know the fallout."

Gemma stared at him for a moment, then gave a short nod, "You're right. He's got enough to deal with."

The trailer fell silent, the weight of their conversation settling like a heavy fog. Gemma glanced out the window, her fingers twitching at her sides.

"Wayne," she said softly, her voice carrying a rare note of vulnerability. "If she's got those letters, she could tear everything apart."

Unser placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "We'll handle it, Gemma. Same as always."

She nodded again, but her eyes betrayed the storm still raging within.

As Gemma turned to leave, Unser watched her go with a unsettling pit in his stomach. The secrets of the past had a way of never staying buried, and he had a sinking feeling that this was just the beginning.

***

The key turned in the lock, and Alu pushed the door open, her phone pressed to her ear. She was still panting slightly from the hurried walk up the steps, her nerves frayed from seeing her brother being arrested. Again. The ringing had gone on for what felt like an eternity before Kimchee finally picked up.

"So you do answer your phone—" she began, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and relief.

But the words died in her throat as her eyes landed on the man standing in her kitchen. Her phone almost slipped from her hand as her breath hitched. There he was—Vinny. Casual as ever, standing by the stove, a skillet in his hand, flipping spaghetti like he belonged there.

Alu barely managed to whisper, "I'll call you back," into the receiver before hanging up and dropping the phone onto the small entryway table.

Vinny turned around slowly, a sinister smirk pulling at his lips as he met her wide-eyed stare, "Well, look who finally decided to come home," he drawled, his tone mockingly warm. "Hi, sweetheart. Dinner's almost ready." 

Her body felt frozen, but her voice trembled as she found the courage to speak, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Cooking dinner, obviously." He gestured to the stove with the spatula, his grin widening.

Alu stood rooted to the spot, her fists clenched at her sides, "You need to leave. Now."

Vinny's smile faded, his expression darkening, "Take a seat," he said, his tone suddenly sharp and commanding.

"I'm not sitting—"

His eyes narrowed, and he set the spatula down with deliberate care. When he looked at her again, there was no trace of humour left, "I said, 'sit.'"

The weight of his gaze pinned her in place. Hesitantly, she stepped forward and lowered herself into the chair closest to the door, her heart pounding against her ribs like a drum. 

"What do you want, Vinny?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as though he had all the time in the world, "What I want," he began. "Is regular visits with Carlos."

Alu's head snapped up, "No. Absolutely not."

Vinny's smirk returned, colder this time, "Oh, you will. Or my good friend Romero might just pay your dear, sweet mother another visit. He loves watching her preach. Says it's almost like a one-woman show."

The colour drained from Alu's face, and her shoulders slumped as the fight seemed to leave her. She stared at her lap, her voice barely audible, "You can't do this."

"Oh, but I can." Vinny's tone was almost cheerful now, as if he were savouring her surrender. "But there's one little thing we need to sort out first."

Her eyes flicked up to him warily, "What?"

"I'll need a DNA test," he said, his voice nonchalant as he returned to the stove. "Just to make sure Oscar was really the father of Carlos." 

Her breath hitched, "Oscar was the father," she insisted. "I was his old lady—of course he was."

Vinny turned to her, his smile more mocking than ever, "Yeah, but Oscar had a habit of passing you around, didn't he? God knows who might've left a little something behind."

The insinuation hit her like a punch to the gut. Panic bloomed in her chest as she shook her head vehemently, "No. No, Oscar was the father. I know he was. I—"

Before she could finish, Vinny slammed the skillet down onto the counter with a deafening clang. Alu flinched, her breath catching as he grabbed her shirt and yanked her toward him.

"Listen to me," he hissed, his voice low and menacing. He picked up the knife he'd been using to chop vegetables and pressed the flat edge against her throat, the blade cold against her skin. "You're going to do the DNA test," he said, his eyes boring into hers. "Or I will kill every single member of that precious little club you care so much about. Starting with your brother. Do you understand me?"

Tears welled in her eyes as she nodded rapidly, her entire body trembling.

"Good." He released her roughly, and she stumbled back, collapsing to the floor as a choked sob escaped her lips.

Vinny, unfazed, turned back to the stove, wiping the knife on a dish towel as though nothing had happened, "Now, get up," he said, his tone almost cheerful again. "Sit at the table. Dinner's ready."

Alu stared up at him, her body frozen with fear.

"Come on," he added with a mocking smile. "Let's eat. It'll be just like old times."

With trembling limbs, she pushed herself to her feet and shuffled to the table. As she sat down, her mind raced, searching for a way out of the nightmare that had just walked back into her life.

Vinny placed a plate of spaghetti in front of her, sitting down across from her at the table as if they were an ordinary couple enjoying a quiet meal together. But the air between them crackled with tension, and Alu could feel his threats hanging over her like a guillotine.

***

Juice sat stiffly in the chair outside Eli Roosevelt's office under the watchful eye of Deputy Martinez. Juice's face was a mask of forced calm. When the door opened, Eli motioned for him to step inside.

"So, what's going on?" Juice asked, his tone trying for casual, though his nerves betrayed him.

Eli raised his hands in mock innocence, "Hey, I just wanna have a conversation, that's all."

"You can do that with my lawyer," Juice shot back. 

Eli smirked, dismissing the comment with a wave of his hand, "Oh, you don't need your lawyer. I don't give a shit about the weed, man. Please, sit down." He gestured to a chair in front of his desk.

Juice hesitated, then relented, dropping into the seat, "So, why'd you pick me up?" he asked, a flicker of amusement breaking through his tense posture. 

Eli rounded his desk, picking up a photo frame. He leaned casually against the desk, holding the frame toward Juice, "This is me and my father, fishing at Rockaway Beach," he said with a light-hearted chuckle. 

Juice chuckled dryly, shaking his head, "Nobody fished at Rockaway. Not unless you wanted to fry up beer bottles and syringes. It's a place you brought your girl to hook up." The memory of Tabitha giving him a bloody nose when he once brought her to said beach flashed briefly in his mind. "That ain't Queens. What's the game here, man?"

Eli placed the photo back on his desk, his expression shifting to something more calculated, "Your grandparents were Puerto Rican, right?"

Juice nodded, his patience wearing thin, "Yeah. So?"

"But your mother," Eli continued, ignoring his irritation. "She was born and raised in Tijuana." 

Juice folded his arms, "Your point?" 

"When Adela Rain Ortiz was sixteen she met and fell in love with a chef that worked at her favourite restaurant. But this chef, right? He was a bad man—Cartel bad. Naturally, her parents, didn't approve, so they ran away together, and moved to Queens, New York. And had two beautiful children—A boy and a girl." 

Juice leaned forward, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Stalker much?"

Eli smirked, "You ever see your father?"

"No," Juice answered quickly, his expression hardening.

Eli arched an eyebrow, holding Juice's gaze, "I can arrange that. I'm sure your sister would love to meet him."

Juice's jaw clenched at the mention of Alu going anywhere near that man. 

Eli picked up a file from his desk and flipped it open, "Michael Howard Cole," he read, turning the file so Juice could see the name and photo. Juice snatched it, his face reddening as he stared at the man who haunted his dreams. 

"It's your daddy, Juan Carlos. By the look on your face, I'm assuming you already knew. But your sister doesn't, does she?"

Juice's glare burned into Eli, "I know who he is. Used to beat the shit out of my mum. Pushed her down the stairs when he found out she was pregnant with Alu. Until he was arrested when I was three. Never saw him again. And I don't want to." His voice lowered, turning venomous, "But you knew that already."

Alu had grown up with one version of her father in her mind: a deadbeat who had run out on her mother and Juice before she was even born. That was the story Juice and Adela had told her growing up, and Alu never questioned it. They thought it was better for her to think of him as just another man who couldn't handle responsibility, someone who disappeared when things got tough than the truth. 

What Alu didn't know was the horrifying truth of her father's final days in their lives. He hadn't simply walked away; he'd been arrested. Arrested for nearly killing her mother.

Her mother had been only 28 weeks pregnant with Alu when the violence reached its breaking point. One night, an argument turned into something far worse. Her father, fuelled by anger and whatever else was coursing through his system, had beaten her mother so brutally that she was rushed to the hospital, barely clinging to life. The doctors had no choice but to perform an emergency C-section, bringing Alu into the world months too early to save her life. 

Michael Cole was arrested that same night. The police found him passed out on their apartment floor, blood seeping from the back of his head and drenched in beer. Adela lay unconscious nearby, while a three-year-old Juice stood over his father, clutching a broken beer bottle in hand, tears streaming down his face. 

And while Adela had survived, she carried the scars—some visible, others not—for the rest of her life. She chose to shield Alu from the ugliness of it all, painting Michael as a coward who ran instead of a monster who nearly killed them both.

Eli tilted his head, offering a faux-sympathetic smile, "That's rough. I'm sorry, man."

Juice simply rolled his eyes.

Eli leaned closer, "Now, I don't know if you can tell by this picture, but, um...he's black. Like, African black."

Juice's expression didn't flinch, "Yeah. I picked that up."

Eli set the file down, "You don't seem concerned, but let me break it down for you. The club finds out you're black, they pull your patch. Make you scrape the ink. If you're lucky, you walk out alive."

Juice's eyes welled with tears, the weight of those words cutting deep, "You don't know dіck about my club," he snapped. 

"Yeah, you're right," Eli matched his tone. "About dіck, nothing. But Leroy?" He motioned to the file, his smirk widening. "Everything."

Ten Years Ago

Juice's bicycle slid against the asphalt, coming to a stop near the edge of Rockaway Beach, the salty air brushing through their hair as they removed their helmets. He turned to see Tabitha hop off the bike, her sharp green eyes narrowing at the desolate surroundings.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said, crossing her arms.

"What?" Juice asked, shrugging as he removed his helmet. "It's a nice spot. Quiet."

Tabitha scoffed, "This is the hookup spot. Everyone knows that. What kind of girl do you think I am, Juan Carlos Ortiz?"

Juice winced at the sound of his full name, "Tabi, come on. That's not why I brought you here." He stepped closer, his face earnest. "I swear. I just...thought it'd be nice. The sound of the waves, the view of the city lights—romantic, right?"

Tabitha raised an eyebrow, sceptical, "Romantic, huh?"

"Yeah," Juice said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not...you know, sleazy. Just—sit with me? Please?"

Her gaze softened, and she let out a small huff, "Fine. But if you try anything, Ortiz, I'm out of here."

He held up his hands in surrender, "Scout's honour."

They walked toward the shore, the sand crunching beneath their feet. Juice spread out his jacket for them to sit on, and Tabitha plopped down with a sigh, pulling her knees to her chest.

For a while, they just listened to the waves, the distant hum of the city fading into the background.

"My folks used to bring me here," Juice said suddenly, his voice quiet. "My ma would pack these fancy sandwiches she made herself—always with way too much mayo—and we'd sit here for hours. My dad said the ocean reminded him of home. Of Mexico."

Tabitha glanced at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone, "I didn't know that."

Juice shrugged, "I don't talk about my dad much." 

"Why not?"

He hesitated, then sighed, "He was a real piece of work. Used to hurt her. Hurt me, too. Until one day he just...he got locked up—I was three. I barely remember his face."

Tabitha reached out, her fingers brushing against his, "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Juice said, managing a small smile. "What about you? Your folks...they were good people, right?"

Her expression darkened, and she looked away, "Yeah. They were. My da was a cop. My ma was a nurse. Always helping folks. And then...bam. Car accident. Just like that, they were gone."

Juice's chest tightened, "Tabi..."

She shook her head, "It's okay. I've got my sister. She's tough as hell, and she's doing her best. But some days..." Her voice cracked slightly. "Some days, it just feels like too much, you know?"

Juice hesitated, then reached out and gently pulled her into his side, "I get it," he said softly. "I really do."

They sat there for a while, the sound of the waves filling the silence between them. Then, almost instinctively, Juice tilted her chin up. Their eyes met, and before either of them could think too hard about it, he leaned in.

The kiss was soft at first, tender, but it quickly deepened. Juice's hand slid to up her dress and instinctively, Tabitha pulled back, her expression shifting from dazed to furious, "Are you kidding me, you fucking jerk?!" she snapped, shoving him away.

Juice blinked, stunned, "What? What did I do?"

"You brought me to a hookup spot, swore that wasn't your plan, and then this?" She pointed at his visibly buldge through his jeans accusingly. "You're just like every other guy, aren't you?! Thought you could sweet-talk your way into my pants! But let's just get on thing straight, my hello kitty underwear are staying on, buddy." 

"No! Tabby, that's not—"

Before he could finish, her fist shot out, catching him square in the nose. Juice yelped, clutching his face as she stood up, storming off toward his bike.

"Tabitha, wait!" Juice scrambled to his feet, stumbling after her.

"I'm not one of your cheap whores, Ortiz!" she shouted over her shoulder. "Don't ever think you can treat me like one! Trying to finger me on a fucking beach!" 

Juice caught up to her, still holding his nose, blood trickling between his fingers, "I wasn't! I swear, I wasn't! I just...I got caught up in the moment!"

Tabitha stopped, spinning around to face him. Her glare could have melted steel, "You're lucky I don't give you another shot for that lame excuse," she snapped.

Juice grinned sheepishly, blood still smeared across his face, "But you won't, right?"

Her lips twitched, almost breaking into a smile before she caught herself, "You're an idiot, Ortiz."

"Yeah," Juice said, nodding. "But I'm your idiot."

Tabitha rolled her eyes but grabbed his sleeve, dragging him back toward the bike, "Come on, Romeo. You're bleeding all over the place."

As they climbed onto the bike and sped off, Juice couldn't help but smile. Even when she was furious, she was one of the best things in his life.

Kimchee pushed the door open, juggling a grocery bag in one arm and a soda bottle in the other. He kicked the door shut behind him, muttering about how the vending machine work ate his change again, "Alright, so what's the big emergency—?" 

His words faltered as he stepped into the living room. The bag and bottle slipped from his hands, hitting the floor with a thud.

Alu was slumped in the corner of the room, her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them. A nearly empty bottle of cheap vodka lay tipped over beside her, the pungent smell of alcohol hanging heavy in the air. Her face was streaked with tears, her breaths coming in uneven, shallow gasps.

"Alu?" Kimchee's voice cracked as he crossed the room in two strides, dropping to his knees in front of her. "Hey, hey—what's going on? What happened?"

She flinched at the sound of his voice but didn't look up. Her entire body was trembling, her fingers digging into the fabric of her jeans as if she were trying to anchor herself, "I messed up," she choked, her voice barely audible. "I messed up so bad."

Kimchee's hands hovered over her, unsure of where to touch or how to comfort her, "What do you mean? Talk to me, Alu. What happened?"

"Oh, Moss..." she sobbed, her words dissolving into a broken cry. "Mami's so sorry. I'm so sorry, baby. I didn't—I didn't mean to..."

Kimchee's heart broke at the sight of her, so raw and broken. He shuffled closer, placing his hands gently on her shoulders, "Alu, you're scaring me. Please, just tell me what's going on. Whatever it is, we'll fix it. I promise."

But she wasn't hearing him. Her hands moved to clutch at her hair, her voice rising in a frantic spiral, "I let him—I let him in. I let him win. Oh, God, Kimchee, I messed everything up. Everything."

"Who?" Kimchee asked, his voice trembling. "Who did you let in? Alu, you're not making sense."

She shook her head violently, her sobs coming faster now, making it harder for her to breathe, "He's going to hurt Moss. He's going to destroy everything I love." 

Kimchee's heart shattered at the sight of her unraveling in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her into his chest despite her resistance, "It's okay," he whispered, his voice firm but gentle. "You're safe. Moss is safe. I've got you."

For a moment, she fought against him, her fists weakly pushing at his chest as she wailed. But then her strength gave out, and she collapsed into his arms, clutching at his shirt like a lifeline. Her cries shook her entire body, and Kimchee held her closer, his chin resting on top of her head.

"It's going to be okay," he murmured, rocking her gently. "I don't know what happened, but we'll figure it out. I promise."

Her sobs eventually began to subside, though the weight of her despair still hung heavy in the room. Kimchee glanced toward the vodka bottle and frowned, his mind racing with questions. Whatever had happened to Alu, it was bad. Really bad.

"Alu," he said softly, pulling back just enough to meet her red, puffy eyes. "You don't have to say anything right now, but you need to know that I'm here. Whatever it is, you're not alone, okay?"

She nodded weakly, her gaze dropping to the floor as fresh tears spilled over, "I'm so sorry," she whispered again, her voice cracking.

Kimchee brushed her hair away from her face, his heart aching for his best friend, "You don't have to apologise. Just let me help you, okay?"

Alu didn't respond, but she leaned into him again, her body trembling with the aftermath of her breakdown. Kimchee tightened his arms around her, silently vowing to get to the bottom of whatever had shattered her so completely.

***

Kimchee opened the door, his face pale and his expression tense. Jax stood on the other side, his leather kutte slightly askew, and his eyes wide with worry.

"Thanks for coming," Kimchee said, his voice low and shaky. "I couldn't get a hold of anyone else. I didn't know what to do."

Jax didn't wait for an explanation, "Where is she?" he asked, his voice clipped, betraying the panic he felt.

Kimchee motioned toward Alu's bedroom, "She's in there. She's a mess, man. I've never seen her like this."

Without another word, Jax brushed past him and made his way down the hall. He pushed the door open to find Alu curled up on the bed, her knees drawn to her chest, her face hidden behind her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, her body trembling under the weight of her despair.

"Alu," Jax called softly, stepping closer.

Her head snapped up, and her tear-streaked face twisted with a mix of anger and anguish, "What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice hoarse and trembling.

Jax sat down on the edge of the bed, his hands hovering uncertainly, "Kimchee called me. He was worried about you. What's going on, darling?"

Alu shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips, "What's going on, darling?" she taunted, putting emphasis on the pet name. "Vinny wants regular visits with Moss, that's what's going on. And it's all your fault. You and the club's deals with the mafia. You opened that door, and now he's here."

Jax's jaw tightened, guilt flashing across his face, "I'm sorry, Alu. I didn't think—"

"You didn't think?!" she snapped, cutting him off. "Do you ever think about how your actions affect others?"

He reached out to her, his hand resting gently on her knee, "What else did he say?"

Her voice wavered, the anger giving way to despair, "He wants a DNA test. To make sure Oscar was really Moss' father. Because of all the dick I used to ride." 

Jax frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion, "Okay...?" 

"You don't get it, Jax. Oscar...there was always a chance he wasn't Moss' father. But I didn't really think about it until the other day."

"Then do the DNA test. If there's even a chance Oscar wasn't Moss' father, Vinny won't have a claim. He'll lose all interest in him." 

"You're not understanding me, it's not that simple," Alu whispered, her voice breaking.

Jax leaned closer, his concern deepening, "What's not that simple? Baby, talk to me."

She turned her head away, tears streaming down her face as she clutched her arms tightly around herself, "I never told anyone this, until the other day. Not even Juice," she said softly, her voice shaking. "I couldn't—I couldn't say it out loud before."

"What are you talking about?"

Alu drew in a shaky breath, her eyes fixed on the wall as if speaking to it instead of him, "One night, during the holidays...Oscar and I were staying at his parents' place. He was out all night, doing God knows what. I was alone..." Her voice caught in her throat, and she shook her head violently. "Vinny...he snuck into my room." 

Jax didn't need her to elaborate. The way her voice broke, the tears streaming down her face, the way she couldn't even look at him—it was all he needed to understand.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed out. "Are you telling me...?" 

She nodded, her body trembling, "I was so scared, Jax. I told him to stop but he wouldn't. He just kept saying, 'Relax, querida. It'll be over soon...'" She let out a straggled cry as she covered her mouth with her hand, tears streaming down her face. "I still hear it—his groans, his breath on my neck. Every time I close my eyes..." Her tone dropped to a whisper. "I tried to forget—told myself it didn't happen. But seeing him with Moss...there's no more doubt. Vinny's his father." 

Jax closed his eyes for a moment, his chest heaving as he struggled to contain his rage. He slid closer to her, wrapping her in his arms as her sobs grew louder. 

"And if he finds out, he'll take him, Jax," she cried, her voice muffled against his chest. "He'll take Moss away from me. He'll take my baby." 

Jax's fists clenched, his entire body radiating rage. But he forced himself to remain calm as he pulled her into his arms, "Hey, look at me," he said, his tone firm but gentle. "He's not gonna take Moss. I won't let that happen. Do you hear me?" 

Alu didn't respond, just sobbed into his chest.

Jax stroked her hair, his mind already racing with plans, "Vinny's gonna die," he said quietly, his voice laced with a chilling resolve. "I'll do it myself. But first, I need you to trust me. Can you do that?" 

Alu nodded slowly, her voice barely above a whisper as she lifted her head to meet his eyes, "I trust you more than anyone, Jackson Teller." 

Jax exhaled slowly, his anger momentarily giving way to tenderness, "I love you," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "He's not gonna hurt you again. Ever." 

He rested his head against hers, holding her close as she continued to cry. His mind was made up. Vinny had crossed a line, and there was no coming back from it.

For now, though, all that mattered was Alu. He would stay by her side, just as he always promised.

***

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