💘( Grave of Lies! )✨

THIRTY ONE 

[ Turning and Turning ]

( 🏍️💀💘👪💒🔫 )

" You think I wanted to call you, Clay? After all these years? After everything...But Letty's in danger, and whatever happened to her - it's bigger than either of us. And whether I like it or not, you're the only ones who can help me find her. This isn't about us. It's about our daughter. "

~ LORAINE MORROW to CLAY MORROW 

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GUEST STARRING 

Alexis Bledel as Teenage Loraine Cohen

Jon Bernthal as Younger Clay Morrow

Cillian Murphy as Seamus "Shiv" O'Malley

☆《》¤

WARNING ⚠️ : Detailed sex scenes will appear in this chapter as well as an age gap which might be a trigger for some. But please note, all individuals are 18 and above; the legal age of consent. Sensitive topics such as human trafficking and drug use will also appear in this chapter. 

☆《》¤

THE ROOM WAS EERILY QUIET EXCEPT FOR THE STEADY BEEPING OF THE HEART MONITOR. St. Thomas had never felt so cold, so sterile. Gemma stirred, her eyes fluttering open slowly, adjusting to the dull light that filtered through the blinds. For a moment, her head spun, disoriented from the medication. The scent of hospital disinfectant lingered in the air, sharp and unpleasant.

When her vision cleared, she saw Clay sitting beside her, reading the morning newspaper. His presence should've been comforting, but a knot tightened in her chest instead. She licked her dry lips, her voice hoarse as she called out, "Hey, baby."

Clay's head snapped up. His face, lined with worry, softened the second their eyes met. He folded the paper in half, a small smile tugging at his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. He stood, moving to the edge of the bed, taking her hand gently. He kissed the back of it, his rough fingers brushing against her skin, "Good morning."

Gemma blinked at him, the weight in her chest only growing heavier. The exchange might've been tender, but something gnawed at her - something dark and foreboding, "Heart attack?" she rasped, her voice laced with exhaustion.

Clay shook his head, his thumb absentmindedly brushing the back of her hand, "No. Bad arrhythmia. Knocked you on your ass. You stopped taking your meds?"

Gemma scoffed, her lips curling in a mixture of defiance and frustration, "They make my feet swell," she muttered. "Can't get into my boots."

Clay chuckled, a low sound that lacked any real humour, "Fashion before health, that's my girl," he said, shaking his head. "But you need to get back on those meds. Stabilise you. Doc says you'll be fine in a few days."

Gemma tried to move her arm, but something stopped her. The cold, metallic clink of the handcuffs snapped her out of her groggy state. She looked down, eyes narrowing at the sight of the steel cuffed to her wrist, tethering her to the bed like a prisoner, "Oh, shit," she sighed, the weight of the situation crashing down on her.

Clay's face hardened, the softness from moments before dissipating. He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest, his voice a low rumble, "What were you thinking coming back here?"

The question was like a spark, and suddenly, the anger that had been simmering beneath Gemma's exhaustion roared to life. She shot him a glare so cold it could have frozen the room. Her jaw clenched, her voice edged with fury, "I was thinking I was going to see my daughter!" Her words hung in the air, a sharp accusation that sliced through Clay like a blade. His eyes dropped, guilt flashing across his face, but Gemma wasn't done. Her anger fuelled her now, and it spilled out in waves, "You lied to me. Why? Huh?!" she demanded, her tone cold and unforgiving.

Clay remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixated on the floor. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost defeated, "I was trying to protect you."

"By keeping me in the dark?!" Gemma's voice rose. She yanked at the handcuffs, as if her fury could rip through the restraints, "I'm her mother, Clay! I should've been the first to know, not the last! You all lied to me, and now my baby girl's out there alone!"

Her words were like fire, scorching the air between them. Clay flinched, unable to look her in the eye. Gemma leaned forward, her voice a venomous hiss, "What the hell were you thinking?" She emphasised the word 'you,' throwing it back at him with a fury that made Clay shrink. 

"I'm sorry," he muttered, his head hanging low.

"Sorry?" Gemma's voice dropped to a deadly calm. She wasn't buying it, not for a second. "Get me Jax and Juice. 'Cause I need some answers."

The room felt colder, the tension thick enough to choke on. Clay knew better than to argue with his wife. He stood up slowly, his shoulders slumped as he moved toward the door, his boots heavy on the tiled floor. The weight of his guilt hung over him like a shroud, and as he stepped out of the room, he didn't dare look back.

Gemma lay there, the fire in her chest burning hotter than ever, her mind spinning with fury and fear. Her family had kept her in the dark about her own daughter! And now, Letty was out there, God knows where, and Gemma was powerless, chained to a hospital bed.

But not for long. She'd get her answers. And once she did, there'd be hell to pay.

***

The chapel at St. Thomas felt more like a sanctuary for outlaws than a place of worship. Samcro sat in the pews, their usual swagger replaced by a heavy tension that filled the air. The dim light barely cut through the room, casting shadows over their hardened faces. Jax sat forward, his hands clasped tightly around his coffee, a mix of determination and worry etched across his features. Juice sat beside him, his eyes darting around the room, absorbing the gravity of their current situation.

Jax broke the silence first, "So, what's going on?"

Bobby shifted in his seat, clearing his throat, "I have to confirm the tracker with Serg today."

Jax didn't hesitate, "Pull the trigger. Send the ten grand."

Bobby nodded, already knowing this was the only move they had left, "Okay."

Jax leaned back, taking a moment to exhale, "I'm making sure my mum's okay, and then me and Juice are heading north."

"I'm going with," Chibs said, his voice low but firm.

"Me too," Opie added, his eyes locking with Jax's.

"You lads ain't doing this alone," Chibs muttered, a look of determination passing between the four men.

Juice and Jax exchanged glances, both nodding in gratitude. It was moments like this where the bonds of the club felt unbreakable, despite everything tearing at the seams around them.

"It doesn't matter how many of us go," Bobby chimed in. "We're gonna need cash to pull it off."

Tig leaned in, his eyebrows furrowed, "Okay, these drugs we took from the rednecks. What are we looking at?"

Juice straightened up, "Steroids and Adderall I can dump on the street. The rest of it is that HIV shit. It's gotta be peddled to the clinics."

Jax nodded, already calculating their next steps, "You should go to Lumpy's. See if he can unload the steroids."

"Okay, I'll call the Chicken Man. I'm sure he'll gladly suck up the Adderall," Juice replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. 

"Yeah," Jax responded absently, his mind racing.

The door creaked open, and Tara stepped in quietly, her presence bringing a shift in the room. All eyes turned to her as she spoke, her voice soft but urgent, "Gemma's awake. She wants to talk to you and Juice."

Jax's face remained unreadable as he stood, motioning for Juice to follow, "Okay."

Juice's eyes went wide, a mix of shock and anxiety hitting him hard, "Me?!" he asked, his voice almost cracking.

Jax smirked, patting him on the back as he stood, "You're family now. That means facing Gemma's wrath."

"Oh, shit," Juice muttered, standing up reluctantly. The chapel echoed with low chuckles from the rest of the guys as they patted him on the back, each offering some form of sarcastic encouragement.

"Good luck, Juicy boy" Chibs said, the grin on his face not helping Juice's nerves. "You're gonna need it. Who do you think Letty got her fiery temper from?" 

"We'll take care of everything," Tig reassured, though his tone carried the weight of what they were up against.

Jax gave him a grateful nod. 

Opie's voice was soft, filled with an emotion that hadn't surfaced much in the last few days, "Hey, tell her we love her."

"Yeah," Jax said, offering a brief but meaningful glance, before heading for the door with Juice in tow.

The hallway to Gemma's room felt like the longest walk of Juice's life. His palms were sweaty, and his heart pounded in his chest. Jax strode beside him with a calm that only came from years of dealing with their unpredictable matriarch. Juice, on the other hand, was less sure of what awaited him. It wasn't just about facing Gemma, it was facing everything that came with being part of the Teller-Morrow family now, all because he fell in love with Letty Morrow. But, hey, he wouldn't change a goddamn thing. Because loving Letty was the best decision he ever made. 

They reached the door, the faint sound of Gemma's voice leaking out from inside as she was currently scolding her husband for keeping her in the dark. 

Jax paused, turning to Juice with a knowing smirk, "You ready?"

"No," Juice admitted, trying to steady his nerves. "But I guess I don't really have a choice."

"Just be honest with her. That's all you can do," Jax said, before pushing the door open.

Gemma was propped up in bed, her eyes sharp despite her weakened state. The hospital gown she wore did nothing to diminish her commanding presence. When Jax and Juice entered the room, her gaze immediately fixed on them, narrowing slightly, "There you are," she said, her voice gruff, though it softened for just a moment when she looked at Jax. But when her eyes landed on Juice, the warmth vanished, "And you."

Juice felt like he was under a microscope, every flaw magnified under her scrutiny. Jax took the lead, pulling up a chair beside her bed. Juice hesitated, standing awkwardly near the door.

"Sit," Gemma ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument. Juice quickly complied, sitting beside Jax, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

Gemma's eyes bore into Jax, "You've been lying to me for days!"

Jax shifted uncomfortably, "We were trying to protect you, Mum--" 

"Bullshit!" Gemma hissed, incredulity dripping from her tone. "You were trying to protect yourselves."

Jax exhaled sharply, "Mum, your heart--" 

Gemma cut him off with a sharp retort, "I don't give a shit about my heart! You had no right keeping this from me! None of you did." 

Her eyes moved to Juice again, as if daring him to speak. When he didn't, she sighed deeply, the weight of the situation clear on her face, "I want answers. All of them," she demanded. "No more secrets."

Jax exchanged a glance with Juice before nodding. 

Juice's throat felt dry as he cleared it, "When Cameron killed Sack, he was gonna kill Abel too," he began, his voice low but steady. "Letty stopped him. There was a struggle, and then...he just took her. He took Letty." 

Juice paused, his eyes flicking over to Gemma, who listened intently, her expression unreadable, "Feds weren't doing shit, so we hired a bounty hunter. We got this a few days ago." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded photo, and handed it to Gemma. Her fingers trembled slightly as she took it. "She's somewhere up in Vancouver."

Gemma's eyes scanned the photo of Letty being dragged through the train station by Cameron. Her hands gripped the image tightly, her knuckles turning white. She shook her head slowly, her lips pressed into a thin line, "She's not in Vancouver, baby." Her voice was hoarse, but filled with certainty.

Everyone's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, all eyes on Gemma, waiting for answers.

Gemma hesitated, before glancing at Clay with a mix of apprehension and steely determination, "The call I got last night...that triggered all this?" She gestured to the heart monitor beside her bed, her voice wavering slightly as she continued, "It was Loraine."

Clay's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, his gaze locking onto Gemma, "Loraine's dead, baby."

Gemma's eyes hardened as she shook her head, her voice rising with frustration, "No. No, she's not. She called me last night."

Silence fell across the room like a hammer, sharp and sudden. No one moved.

Clay was the first to break the heavy quiet, his voice low but laced with disbelief, "You had to be hallucinating, Gem." He tried to reason with her, his words calm but firm, as if he needed to anchor her back to reality.

Gemma's eyes snapped to his, her glare cutting through the room like a blade, "I wasn't fucking hallucinating, Clay. It was her. I know my best friend's voice anywhere," she bit back, each word sharpened with anger.

Clay's expression softened slightly, though disbelief lingered in his eyes. His voice was softer now, trying to soothe her, "Baby, we buried her. Had a funeral, remember that?" He spoke as if he was trying to convince himself just as much as her.

Gemma's jaw tightened, and her eyes bore into his, "It was a closed casket, Clay, we never saw the body," she shot back, her tone cold. "And you know damn well what she was planning to do."

Clay paused, the memories flashing through his mind. His face hardened, but a flicker of doubt crept into his expression. He shook his head, pushing the thought away, "She wouldn't have left Letty behind," he said firmly. "She wouldn't."

Gemma's voice lowered, her certainty unwavering, "Well, I don't know, there had to be some reason why."

The weight of her words settled over the room like a storm cloud. Jax stood beside his mother, his hand still gripping hers tightly. His face was pale, his expression torn between disbelief and hope. He looked to Juice, whose usually confident demeanour had stiffened, his jaw clenched as he processed the revelation.

Jax turned back to Gemma, his voice filled with doubt but also a desperate need for the truth, "Are you sure, Mum?"

Gemma's eyes softened as she met Jax's gaze, "I know what I heard, Jax," she said quietly, but firmly. "Loraine's alive. And she told me Letty's in Belfast."

Another silence swept through the room, but this one was heavier - filled with confusion, disbelief, and fear.

Jax's face paled further, his mind racing, "No, it can't be," he muttered under his breath, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. "Jimmy and O'Neill saw Cameron get scooped up as soon as he hit Belfast. He didn't have Letty with him."

Gemma's eyes flashed with anger as the heart monitor next to her began to beep faster, echoing the tension in the room, "Well, then somebody's full of shit!" she snapped, her breathing becoming more laboured as she spoke.

Clay shot up from his seat, his concern for Gemma overriding everything else, "You need to take it easy, baby," he said, his voice thick with worry, his hand reaching out to her.

Gemma's eyes were wild with fear and anger, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps, "I'll take it easy when I know where the hell my daughter is!" she barked, her hand clutching the sheets as her chest heaved.

The heart monitor blared, and Rey rushed into the room, "Come on, everyone out!" she ordered, her tone firm as she motioned toward the door. "She needs rest."

Reluctantly, they began to file out of the room, their faces pale and drawn, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Clay lingered by the window for a moment, his mind racing with the weight of Gemma's words. If Loraine was alive, then everything they thought they knew was a lie. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. As much as he wanted to dismiss it, something gnawed at him, something darker.

As they reached the hallway, Tara grabbed Jax's arm, stopping him in his tracks, "Who's Loraine?" 

"Letty's mother," Jax informed her, as he stared at Clay's back, who had stopped suddenly, gripping a nearby railing to keep himself steady. 

Tara's eyes widened, "The one who died giving birth to her?" 

"It was an emergency c-section," Clay corrected, turning to the group, his expression hardened. Pausing, he sighed, running a hand down his face, before speaking again, "Until we figure out what the hell's going on, nobody tells Chibs, understand?" His voice was sharp, commanding, as he pointed at each of them. 

Jax, Juice, and Tara exchanged uneasy glances, but none of them argued. They understood the gravity of the situation, the fragile balance that could be tipped if anyone else found out. 

"Yes," Juice muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes dark with unease.

Tara nodded, her voice soft but firm, "Okay," she agreed, before turning away, heading down the hall, leaving the rest of them standing in a tense silence.

Jax's hands were clenched into fists at his sides, his mind swirling with confusion and anger. He knew one thing for certain: if what Gemma said was true, their world was about to be turned upside down.

The tension hung in the air, disbelief mixing with frustration. He felt the weight of the situation crashing down on him. This wasn't just about Letty anymore; it was about Loraine, too, and whatever dark secrets the past had buried.

"We gotta call McGee," Jax said, his voice rising in urgency as he watched Clay start to stride purposefully down the hall once again. 

Clay stopped mid-stride, turning slightly to shoot Jax a steely look, "No! If O'Neill lied to us, it means Belfast could be in bed with Jimmy."

Jax's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides, "McGee's first nine. You think he'd lie to us?" he challenged, trying to keep his voice steady despite the panic swirling in his gut.

Clay shook his head, frustration etched across his face, "I don't know. But I need to find out if my wife's alive." He reached into his pocket, pulling out Gemma's cell phone and handing it to Juice, "Track the last call. I need a phone number." 

Juice nodded, determination flashing in his eyes, "Got it." He turned on his heel and hurried down the corridor, the sound of his footsteps echoing as he raced to trace the last call.

"What are you doing?" Jax called after Clay, who was already moving toward the exit with purpose.

"I'm going to dig up a goddamn grave," Clay shot back over his shoulder, pulling out his phone as he made a phone call. "Skeeter, it's Clay. I need a favour," he said, his voice low but filled with urgency.

Jax ran a hand down his face, exasperation bubbling to the surface, "Jesus Christ," he muttered, his mind racing with possibilities.

Clay's focus was solely on his call, storming out of the hospital. The memories of Loraine flooded back to him, the weight of what he had buried all those years ago pressing heavily on his heart. He couldn't shake the feeling that if Loraine was alive, it would change everything - not just for him but for Letty, too.

Belfast 

1983

The rain fell softly in Belfast, a light drizzle that turned the cobblestones slick and shiny underfoot. Clay Morrow leaned against the cool brick wall of a pub, nursing a whiskey while waiting for the club's contact to arrive. His mind was focused on the business at hand, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something important was about to happen.

As he took another sip, he noticed a young woman rushing down the narrow street, her dark hair whipping around her face. She was stumbling, tears streaming down her cheeks, clearly not paying attention to where she was going. Clay moved away from the wall, just as she collided into him, her small frame bouncing off his solid chest.

"Whoa!" Clay exclaimed, steadying her with a firm grip on her shoulders. He could see the hurt in her eyes, a mix of fear and desperation, and it tugged at something deep inside him, "Are you alright?"

She looked up at him, her wide hazel eyes shimmering with tears, "I'm sorry," she stammered, her thick Irish accent shook as she brushed a lock of hair from her face. That's when he noticed the bruise blooming under her right eye, a stark contrast against her porcelain skin. "I wasn't lookin'..."

"Hey, it's okay," he said softly, concern washing over him. "What's got you so upset?"

Loraine shook her head, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "It's nothin'. Just...just a shite day," she said, attempting to force a smile that faltered before it even reached her lips.

Clay's heart clenched at her words, sensing the weight of something more behind her casual dismissal. He could feel the pull of her sadness like a magnet, and he couldn't help but want to know more, "You sure? You look like you could use someone to talk to."

She hesitated for a moment, looking up at him with uncertainty. There was something raw and vulnerable about her that made his heart race, "I don't think ye want to hear me problems," she replied, trying to step back but finding herself still caught in his grip.

"Try me," he urged, lowering his voice as if they were in a world of their own, blocking out the noise that surrounded them. 

Loraine sighed, her shoulders slumping as she glanced away, visibly struggling with her thoughts, "My father...he's ain't a good lad," she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "He doesn't like me much. He...he's got his own plans, and I'm just...in the way."

Clay's grip tightened slightly, anger bubbling up within him at the thought of anyone hurting this beautiful girl before him, especially her own father, "I'm sorry," he said, his tone gentle. "No one deserves that."

She looked up at him, her expression softening, and for a moment, the weight of her troubles seemed to lift, "Thank ye," she said quietly, the sincerity in her voice striking a chord deep in Clay's chest.

"I'm Clay," he introduced himself, offering her a smile that felt like a promise. "And you are?"

"Loraine," she replied, a hint of a smile breaking through the tears. 

"How old are you, Loraine?" Clay asked, as he examined her youthful appearance. 

"I just turned eighteen last month," she said ever-so-sweetly, a faint smile gracing her face. 

"Eighteen, huh?" he mused, an eyebrow raised. "You should be out having fun, not dealing with...whatever that is." He gestured toward her bruise, a sudden protective instinct surging within him.

"I don't really have anyone to have fun with," Loraine admitted, her voice tinged with sadness. "Not anymore." Her eyes found the floor. 

The rain picked up slightly, and Clay felt the tension between them - an invisible thread pulling them closer, "What if I could help you?" he offered, surprising himself. "You could show me around Belfast. You know it better than I do."

Loraine's eyes widened in surprise, and for the first time, a genuine smile broke through her sadness, "Ye'd really want to do that?"

"Absolutely," Clay replied, his heart racing. He felt a connection to her that was undeniable, an unspoken bond that tethered them together in that moment, "Just tell me where to start."

Loraine hesitated, her eyebrows furrowing as she glanced back down the street, "You really shouldn't get involved with me. My father..."

"Forget your father," Clay interjected, a fierce determination rising within him. "You're not just some extension of him. You're your own person, Loraine. And you deserve to be happy."

Her breath caught as she searched his eyes, the depth of his sincerity taking her aback. In that moment, amidst the rain and tears, a flicker of hope ignited within her, "Okay," she finally said, her voice steadier. "I'll show ye around."

As they began to walk together, the rain continued to fall, but it felt like a fresh start. Clay felt the thrill of something new and intoxicating brewing between them, a spark that made him want to protect her from everything that threatened to pull her down. Little did he know that this connection would change both their lives forever, leading them down a path fraught with danger, love, and secrets neither of them could have anticipated. 

The morning sun beamed down on Clay as he stood over Loraine's grave, sweat dripping down his face. Skeeter had been kind enough to shut down the entire cemetery for him, a small mercy in the face of his desperation. Clay gripped the handle of his shovel tightly, the metal biting into his palms as he took a deep breath. He'd never thought he'd find himself in this position, standing over his dead wife's grave in broad daylight, fighting to reconcile the past with the present.

With each thrust of the shovel, the reality of the situation settled heavily on his shoulders. Digging was hard, but he barely felt the strain; all he could think about was Loraine. She had been gone for so long, buried beneath the weight of secrets, and now he was ready to face whatever lay beneath the surface. The moment he hit the casket, a surge of adrenaline rushed through him.

Finally, he reached the top of the casket, the dull thud echoing in the silence around him. Clay's heart pounded in his chest as he carefully pried the lid open, the creaking wood a haunting sound in the stillness.

As he pulled it open, a chill swept through him.

Empty.

Clay's breath caught in his throat, disbelief washing over him like a cold wave, "No, no, no!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the empty cemetery. He slammed the shovel against the casket with a deafening clang, the sound reverberating like a death knell, "Loraine! You lying bitch!" His words were filled with rage and heartbreak, the betrayal cutting deeper than he could have ever imagined.

The weight of the truth hit him like a freight train, and he staggered back, collapsing to his knees in the dirt. He buried his face in his hands, the reality of Loraine's deception crashing down around him, "Why?" he cried, the word a raw and anguished plea. "Why would you do this? To me? To Letty? To your family?! You goddamn bitch!" 

The tears flowed freely now, each sob wracking his body as he struggled to understand the magnitude of her betrayal. How could she have walked away? How could she have left him to raise their daughter alone, to live with the pain of her death?

His breaths came in ragged gasps as he pressed his forehead against the cold earth, a hollow ache settling in his chest, "You were supposed to be here. You were supposed to protect her," he whispered, the grief overwhelming him.

The sun beamed down mercilessly, but it felt like the world had frozen around Clay, time stretching into an unbearable eternity as he grappled with his pain.

He pushed himself up slowly, his hands trembling as they brushed the dirt off his knees. Clay looked back at the empty casket, rage boiling back up to the surface, "You made me think you were dead," he hissed, his voice hoarse and strained. "You made me bury you! And for what? So, you could play dead while our daughter grew up without you? Or did you just like watching me suffer?" He shook his head bitterly, "You manipulative bitch." 

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and he dropped his shovel to the ground with a thud. Clay turned away, the pain in his chest becoming a mixture of rage and sorrow. He felt lost, untethered, as if the very ground beneath him had given way.

"Goddamn you, Loraine," he whispered, his voice breaking as he staggered back from the grave. He knew he had to find her; he had to confront her. But as he walked away from the grave, the reality of his situation sank deeper. She had chosen to vanish, and he couldn't shake the feeling that she had done it for a reason - one that he might never understand.

As he walked back toward his bike, the ache in his chest grew heavier. The sense of betrayal loomed like a shadow, threatening to engulf him completely. He had to find Loraine. He had to confront the woman who had turned his world upside down and understand why she had chosen this path. And he would drag her back to the family she had left behind, no matter the cost.

Belfast

1983

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the sprawling park as Clay and Loraine strolled through the lush greenery, their laughter ringing out against the backdrop of the soft rustling leaves. They had spent the day exploring the streets of Belfast, sharing stories and secrets, and discovering more about each other than they had expected.

After a few hours, the initial heaviness that had weighed on Loraine's heart began to dissipate, replaced by an exhilarating sense of freedom. Now, as they walked side by side, she felt a thrilling connection to Clay that sent butterflies dancing in her stomach.

"Can ye believe I've lived here me whole life and never really seen it like this?" Loraine mused, glancing up at him with a shy smile.

Clay chuckled, glancing sideways at her, "Guess you were too busy with family drama to enjoy the city."

She looked down, a hint of sadness creeping back into her eyes, but he reached out, gently brushing her arm with his fingertips, "Hey," he said, his voice softening. "That bastard ain't here. It's okay to smile, to have fun."

Loraine looked up, meeting his gaze. There was something in the way he looked at her that made her heart race, "Yeah, I guess you're right," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

They continued walking until they came upon a secluded park bench beneath a large oak tree. The setting sun filtered through the leaves, casting a dappled pattern of light and shadow across the ground. Clay hesitated for a moment, then motioned to the bench, an unspoken invitation hanging in the air, "Want to sit?" he asked.

She nodded, her heart pounding as they settled close to each other. The energy between them crackled with anticipation, and Loraine felt a heat rising in her cheeks. This wasn't how she imagined her day would go, but the thrill of being with Clay sent shivers down her spine.

"What a day, huh?" Clay said, his voice low, his eyes focused intently on her.

"Yeah," she replied, her breath hitching as she felt the heat of his gaze. "I've never done anything so spontaneous before."

Clay chuckled, a teasing glint in his eyes, "Yeah? Me either," he admitted, his tone light, but something in his expression revealed the truth behind his words.

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smile creeping onto her lips, "I find that hard to believe, Mr. Harley." She gestured to his kutte, the leather adorned with patches and insignia that spoke volumes of his life and experiences.

"Looks can be deceiving, darlin'," Clay replied, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Trust me on that."

Loraine's breath quickened as she caught the intensity in his eyes. She could feel a magnetic pull between them, a heat that was impossible to ignore. Without thinking, she leaned in, capturing his lips with hers in a kiss that ignited something deep within her.

Clay responded instantly, his hands finding their way to her waist, pulling her onto his lap, so she was straddling him, as their kiss deepened. Loraine melted into him, her heart racing as their bodies moved together, each kiss sending electric jolts through her.

"Is this okay, darlin'?" he murmured against her lips, his breath mingling with hers.

"Yes," she gasped, surprising herself with the eagerness of her response. It was exhilarating, the danger of being caught heightening every sensation.

As their kisses grew more fervent, Clay's hands began to explore her body, tracing the curves of her hips and waist, igniting the fire in her veins. Loraine had never imagined losing herself like this, on a park bench with a man she had just met. But there was something about Clay - his confidence, his passion - that made her feel alive in a way she had never experienced before.

"I can't believe we're doing this," she whispered breathlessly between kisses.

"Yeah, neither can I," Clay admitted, his voice thick with desire. "But it feels right, doesn't it?"

She nodded, lost in the moment, their breaths becoming heavier, mingling in the air around them. The world around them faded away as they moved together, their bodies dancing in a rhythm of urgency and need.

In a whirlwind of passion, Loraine felt herself on the brink, the thrill of the moment washing over her like a tidal wave. Clay's lips moved down her neck, igniting sparks of pleasure that shot through her entire being.

"Loraine," he murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of reverence and desire, "We don't--"

But before he could finish, she kissed him hungrily, pulling him closer, urging him to take her higher. In that moment, the weight of the world faded into nothingness, and she surrendered completely to the heat of the moment.

With a final surge of passion, Loraine shuffled on his around on his lap enough for her to hike up her dress and remove her panties as Clay was quick to undo his belt and pull down his jeans and boxer briefs, letting them fall down to his ankles. A gasp escaped Loraine's lips as she wasted no time sinking down onto him with a sense of urgency, making a gravelly groan leave the back of Clay's throat. 

As she started to move, her breath came in soft, needy gasps, her hands gripping his shoulders as if she could steady herself from the intensity between them. Clay's hands were firm on her hips, guiding her rhythm as they moved together in perfect sync, lost in the primal pull that had drawn them together from the moment they'd met.

He couldn't take his eyes off her - how her face shifted between pleasure and abandon, her lips parted in soft moans that stirred something deep inside him. Every sound she made, every gasp and hitch in her breath, fed the fire that burned hot in his veins. Loraine wasn't the perfect, innocent girl her family had always wanted her to be right now. She was wild, fierce, claiming what she wanted, and it drove him crazy.

"Goddamn it, baby," Clay rasped, his voice thick with lust, barely able to hold back his groans as her hips moved faster, drawing him deeper inside her. "You feel...fuck, you feel so good. So fucking tight." 

She moaned in response, her head tilting back as her hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, nails digging into his kutte as she rode him harder, pushing them both toward the edge. Her breath was ragged, her eyes fluttering closed as her body responded to every thrust, every movement they made together.

Clay leaned forward, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her soft moans. When he pulled back, he gazed up at her, completely mesmerised by the sight of her - this woman had turned his world upside down in a matter of hours. His hands tightened on her hips as he guided her movements with more purpose, his words spilling out, hot and heavy.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, his head falling back against the bench. "You're killing me. You look so fucking beautiful like this. All mine. No one else is ever gonna make you feel like this, you hear me?"

Loraine's eyes opened, locking with his, her pupils blown wide with lust and passion. She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear as she whimpered, "I never thought...I never knew it would feel this good." Her voice trembled, the vulnerability in her admission only making him want her more.

Clay smirked, feeling her body shudder as he thrust up into her, "That's right, baby, take all of me," he murmured, his voice husky as his lips found her neck, kissing and nipping at her skin. "I promise I'll always make you feel this good. Because you're mine now, Loraine."

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she gasped as she moved faster, her fingers tangling in his hair as her release approached. Every stroke, every touch felt like fire, as neither of them held back. Clay's voice was rough in her ear, filled with lust, desire, and something more - something neither of them could name, but both of them felt.

"You're so fucking perfect," Clay groaned, feeling his own release building. "I could stay like this forever, watching you lose yourself as you ride my cock. Christ, I've never wanted anyone the way I want you."

Loraine's body tightened around him as her moans grew louder, her body trembling with the intensity of it all. Her head fell forward, her lips brushing against his as she gasped, "Clay..."

And in that moment, as she fell over the edge, crying out his name, and Clay knew - there was no going back. She wasn't just another girl. Loraine Cohen was everything he ever wanted, everything he never knew he needed, and the way she made him feel was unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

As her body stilled, and the aftershocks of their passion slowly ebbed, Loraine collapsed against him, breathing hard, her forehead resting against his shoulder. Clay held her close, his own breath ragged as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. His hands slowly moved up her back, soothing her as they both came down from their high.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, the distant chirping of crickets, and the feeling of being completely and utterly consumed by each other.

"I've never done that before," Loraine whispered against his neck, her voice soft but filled with awe. "But it was fucking amazing."

Clay smiled, pulling her back just enough to meet her eyes, "Hell yeah, it was." 

As they caught their breath, Loraine leaned back against the bench, her heart racing, a mixture of exhilaration and disbelief washing over her. She had never thought she'd lose her virginity on a park bench to a member of a motorcycle gang, who was almost twice her age, but in that moment, it felt like the most beautiful thing in the world.

Clay looked at her, a soft smile playing on his lips, "You okay, darlin'?"

She met his gaze, her heart full of warmth and excitement, "Yeah. More than okay."

And in that moment, beneath the oak tree as the sun set on the horizon, Loraine Cohen felt free for the first time in her life.

The abandoned pub loomed ahead, its windows boarded up and walls crumbling from years of neglect. A relic from a past long forgotten, it now served as a meeting point for the darker corners of their world. The Sons moved through the hollow structure like ghosts, their boots echoing through the decaying wood, the air heavy with dust and stale memories.

Inside, sitting alone in a booth, Luke waited. His posture was relaxed, a cocky grin plastered across his face as his two men stood behind him, silent sentinels. Jax, Chibs, and Opie approached, the tension between them all palpable even in the dead air.

Luke leaned back in his seat, his grin widening as the Sons came closer, "What can I do for you, boys?" His voice was smooth, casual, but there was a mocking undertone beneath it - He wasn't taking this seriously.

Jax wasted no time, sliding into the booth across from him, his eyes cold and hard. Chibs stood behind him, arms crossed, while Opie hovered to the side, his gaze locked on Luke's men.

"I have a problem, Luke," Jax said evenly, his tone a little too calm. He leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table, "We got word from a friend in Belfast that Cameron was spotted with a girl."

Chibs stepped in, his Scottish brogue cutting through the stale air with a sharp edge, "Before your Army boys offed him," he added, his eyes narrowing, daring Luke to challenge him.

Luke's grin didn't falter, though a flicker of unease crossed his face, "If he was seen with a girl, it had to have been some other lass."

Jax let out a small laugh, shaking his head as if Luke had just told the most ridiculous joke, "How do you know?" he asked, leaning back in the booth, arms spread wide. His smirk was gone, his tone icy.

Luke shrugged, still trying to play it off, "I don't know who your friend is, brother, but they're feeding you some rubbish."

Jax's expression hardened, his jaw clenching, "You can call it rubbish all you want, but I know my friend wouldn't lie about something like this." His voice lowered, the intensity behind his words undeniable. "Maybe you don't get that, but I do. This is real. And if you're smart, you'll take it seriously."

Chibs shifted, stepping forward, his gaze never leaving Luke's. He still didn't know who Jax's 'friend' was, but the way Jax spoke of them made him trust that it wasn't just some random. If Jax believed in them, so did Chibs, "So, why don't you reach out to that O'Phelan bastard and get us some fresh intel?" His voice was low and threatening, the challenge clear.

Luke's easy-going façade cracked slightly. He glanced at his men before nodding, realising he was being cornered, "Consider it done."

Jax stood back up, sliding out of the booth with deliberate calm. He gave Luke a final, measured look before turning toward the door. Opie followed, but Chibs lingered for a moment, his presence looming over the table like a storm cloud.

"When you talk to your boss," Chibs said, his voice dark and dangerous. "You let him know that if I find out he's been lying about our girl, I'm gonna track him down. I'll beat the truth out of him, and then I'll cut him from ear to ear."

Jax smirked, "And I'm gonna let him."

Luke chuckled, but his eyes betrayed his unease, "No need to get theatrical, boys. We know that's not gonna happen."

And without another word, Jax, Chibs, and Opie turned and headed for the exit. But just as they reached the door, Opie's low voice rumbled behind them, "The safehouse is gone. They're stashing the rest here," he said, motioning to a set of crates stacked near the bar. 

"Our AKs?" Jax realised. 

Opie nodded, "Yeah." 

Jax's eyes narrowed on the weapons and then Luke, before they stepped out into the daylight. The cold wind bit at their faces as they made their way toward their bikes, engines waiting to roar to life. Jax was about to mount his Harley when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned to see Chibs staring at him, suspicion written all over his face.

"What friend from Belfast?" Chibs asked, his tone sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Jax hesitated, Clay's orders still fresh in his mind. The secrecy around it, the stakes, weighed heavily on his conscience. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to lie, "Uh...McGee's old lady," he said the first thing that came to mind, hoping the half-truth would be enough to satisfy Chibs' curiosity.

Chibs' eyebrows furrowed, the suspicion deepening, "Maureen?"

Jax cleared his throat, nodding, though he could feel Chibs' eyes boring into him, "Yeah. Why? You know her?"

Chibs' gaze hardened, memories from a lifetime ago flickering across his face. His voice was quieter now, rough with something unsaid, "Yeah, I knew her when she was a kid."

The weight of those words hung between them, heavy with unspoken history. Jax avoided Chibs' gaze, turning his focus back to the road ahead. There was no time for questions now, no time to unravel the complicated web of relationships and allegiances that tied them all to Belfast.

With a final nod, Jax kicked his bike into gear, the engine roaring to life. Chibs and Opie followed suit, the three of them tearing down the road, the wind howling around them. But even as the miles blurred beneath their wheels, the secrets they carried weighed heavier than ever.

Belfast was waiting. And with it, the truth about Letty, Loraine, and the ghosts of their pasts that none of them were prepared to face.

***

The sterile lights of the hospital room gleamed against the silver of Clay's wedding ring as he adjusted the mirror for Gemma. She sat up in her hospital bed, plucking her eyebrows with sharp precision, a picture of calm in the midst of chaos. Jax walked in, the creak of the door breaking the silence.

"Hi, sweetheart," Gemma greeted, a smile tugging at her lips as she continued to work on her face.

"Am I interrupting?" Jax asked, his voice carrying the weight of the day's events.

Clay let out a breath of relief, dropping the mirror on the table beside the bed, "Yes. Thank you." He turned to Jax, face worn with exhaustion, "How'd it go with Luke?"

Jax ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tight, "He's sticking to his story. Says he'll check in with Jimmy and get back to us. You?"

Clay sighed deeply, rubbing his face with both hands as if preparing for the weight of the truth, "Grave's empty."

Gemma's hand froze mid-pluck, her eyes going wide, "You dug up her goddamn grave?!" she asked, voice incredulous.

"I had to be sure, baby," Clay answered, his voice low but steady.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered under her breath, dropping the tweezers onto her lap, the tension in her voice palpable.

The room shifted as the door opened again. Juice stepped inside, holding a small slip of paper in his hand. His face was tense, as he walked over to Clay without saying a word, extending the paper toward him, "I tracked the number Loraine was calling from," he said, eyes flicking briefly to Gemma before landing back on Clay. "It's eight hours ahead in Belfast. She should still be awake."

Clay took the paper, looking it over, "You ready to make this call?"

Gemma stared at him bewildered, "Me?" she asked, eyerows raised. "Don't you want to?"

Clay's eyes darkened, "I got nothing to say to that bitch."

Gemma exhaled sharply, taking the phone from her side table, "Fine." She began to dial the number, her fingers steady even though her voice trembled with the weight of what was to come. But before she could press the final number, the door swung open again.

"Good morning," Stahl's voice filled the room like nails on a chalkboard. "Glad to see you're feeling better." She walked in with her usual smugness, her eyes cold and calculating as they fell on Gemma.

"Yeah, I'm the picture of health," Gemma deadpanned, her hands resting in her lap now, the phone forgotten for a moment.

Stahl ignored the sarcasm, her gaze sweeping over Jax and Juice, who had taken up positions against the wall, arms crossed, and glaring, "I'm going to need to speak with her alone."

Both Jax and Juice leaned back further, neither making any motion to leave. Jax tilted his head, eyes narrowing, "We'll wait."

"I'll be fine," Gemma insisted, her voice strong despite her weakened state. She shot a glance at Clay, her husband giving Stahl a look that could burn through steel. "There's not much more this bitch can do to me."

"Don't underestimate her," Clay warned, his voice low but dangerous. "She's been demoted. She's desperate."

"Hey," Stahl chimed in. "I'm in the room, kids."

"Yeah, we know," Jax responded flatly.

Juice sneered from the corner, his lip curling, "We just wish you weren't."

Clay grunted in agreement, before motioning to Jax and Juice to follow him out, "Come on, let's go." 

As the men filed out, Stahl waited until the door clicked shut behind them before turning back to Gemma, "The family that hates together." She smiled smugly as she stepped closer, her heels clicking on the tile floor, "I want to thank you for turning yourself in. Saves us some time."

Gemma's eyes narrowed.

"Any news on your daughter?" Stahl asked, her words dripping with insincerity.

"Shouldn't we be asking you that?" Gemma shot back, her gaze hard. 

Stahl shrugged, her smile growing more sinister, "Saving the taxpayers some money, Gemma. I'm sure they wouldn't appreciate their hard-earned cash being wasted on tracking down some wayward girl who murdered her own best friend." Her words cut like knives, each syllable deliberately placed to wound. "But hey, maybe we'll get lucky and find her. Or maybe she'll become just another ghost."

Something inside Gemma snapped. In an instant, she lunged forward, yanking hard against the handcuffs chaining her to the bed, "You smug bitch!" she growled, her voice feral. The restraints bit into her wrists, but she didn't care. Rage blinded her to the pain, "When I get out of here, I'm gonna rip your throat out myself!"

Stahl didn't flinch. In fact, she smiled, seemingly pleased by Gemma's fury. 

"Letty's twice the woman you'll ever be, and when we find her, you better hope you're long gone," Gemma snarled, chest heaving, her voice a low growl. "Or it'll be your blood we're mopping up."

Stahl sighed dramatically, shaking her head, "That attitude really isn't going to serve you, Gemma."

"You sound like my mother," Gemma spat.

Stahl raised an eyebrow, "A wise woman."

Gemma leaned back against the bed, her lips curling into a grimace, "I hated her. And she's dead."

For the briefest moment, Stahl's face faltered, a flicker of fear crossing her otherwise composed features. But then she straightened, clearing her throat.

"Let's just get this deal over with."

"Problem there," Stahl began to pace, her steps slow and deliberately taunting.

Gemma's eyes narrowed, "What problem?"

"Well, you see, when the U.S. Attorney signs off on a deal, it's very specific. Very literal." Stahl turned to face her again, a cruel glint in her eyes. "You were supposed to turn yourself in this morning."

"I came back. It's not my fault my heart had a goddamn other plan--" 

"I know, I know." Stahl raised her hands in mock defense. "But I'm just giving you a heads-up, okay? It may all go away."

Gemma's pulse quickened, "What are you saying?"

"If you were to speak with Tara," Stahl said, leaning in closer, her voice a taunting whisper.  "And refresh her memory as to the Irish, well...maybe I can help."

The words barely left Stahl's lips before Gemma lunged again, her teeth bared in a snarl, "I swear to God, I'll kill you!" she roared, her heart monitor beeping wildly in the background. But Stahl jumped back, just out of reach, her smirk firmly in place.

"Easy, sweetheart," Stahl mocked, her voice sickly sweet. "We wouldn't want that little heart getting all skippy again, now would we?"

The door opened, and Rey stepped inside, her face etched with suspicion as her gaze moved between the two women, "Everything okay in here?"

"Everything's fine," Stahl replied, her voice light.

Rey didn't even glance her way, eyes fixed on Gemma, "I believe I was asking my patient."

Gemma smirked, "I'm fine, sweetheart."

"I'll be the judge of that," Rey said, stepping forward to check on Gemma's condition, before turning to Stahl, her expression firm. "You're going to have to step out."

Stahl hesitated for only a second, before flashing the nurse a patronising smile, "Yes, of course," she said, as she walked out of the room. 

"Thank you!" Rey called after her, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Once the door clicked shut behind her, Rey turned back to Gemma, pulling out her stethoscope, "What a bitch."

Gemma chuckled softly, shaking her head, "You have no idea."

Rey smiled, pressing the cold metal to Gemma's chest. 

***

Johnny lounged on the worn, plush couch in his mother's Victorian estate, the grandness of the room contrasting sharply with his relaxed posture. The high ceilings and rich mahogany panelling seemed to stretch on forever, but Johnny barely noticed. His focus was glued to the footy game on the television, the only thing that really mattered at that moment. A packet of chips sat open on his lap, crumbs sprinkling down onto the couch as he shoved another handful into his mouth.

"Come on, ya wanker! Pass the bloody ball!" he yelled at the TV, his voice rising in frustration as one of the players fumbled the pass. He shifted slightly, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table, eyes never leaving the screen.

As the game reached a tense moment, the shrill ring of the house phone cut through the room. Johnny groaned, throwing his head back. The game was getting good, and of course, someone had to call now. Without shifting his gaze, he lazily reached over to the side table and grabbed the phone, tucking it between his ear and shoulder, "Yeah?" he muttered, his attention still on the screen.

There was a pause on the other end before a voice responded, "Yeah, I was looking for Loraine."

Johnny's eyes never wavered from the TV as he casually answered, "Nobody here by that name. Who's this?"

Another pause, "A friend," the voice replied, sounding more than a little guarded. "Who's this?"

Johnny smirked, finally glancing away from the game, though his tone remained casual, "None of your business, friend."

There was an audible sigh on the other end, laced with frustration, "Look, I know she's there. She called from this number last night. I just need to know when she'll be back."

Johnny rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated breath, "Look, mate, I don't know who called you, but like I said, 'nobody here by that name'."

The other man's voice sharpened, irritation seeping through, "Look, it's very important that I talk to her."

Johnny couldn't help but chuckle, enjoying the cat-and-mouse game this was becoming. He leaned back further into the cushions, eyes flicking back to the TV screen as the game resumed, "So important you can't even give me a name?"

There was a brief silence, followed by a sigh, heavy with annoyance, "Just take down this number," the voice demanded, his patience hanging by a thread.

Johnny rolled his eyes again, shifting in his seat, more focused on the game than the call. He really didn't have time for this, "Just suck my dick, asshole."

There was a beat of silence before the man on the other end chuckled, "That's real cute." His voice was cooler now, calmer, like he was trying not to lose his temper. "Look, tell her someone from Charming needs to speak with her again. Mother to mother. She'll know what that means. Now take down this number."

Johnny sighed, realising this wasn't going to end anytime soon unless he gave in. The game was still playing, and he was missing it for this nonsense, "Fine," he muttered, more to get the guy off his back than out of any actual interest. He grabbed the notepad from the side table, snatching the pen and scribbling down the number lazily, "Yeah, yeah, I got it. Now piss off," he said, hanging up the phone before the guy could say anything else.

As he tossed the phone onto the table, Johnny grabbed another handful of chips, eyes glued back on the game. His irritation melted away as the tension of the match drew him back in. Whoever that guy was, he could wait.

Johnny had more important things to worry about - like whether his team was going to make the next bloody pass.

***

The sun was low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over the dingy parking lot. Bobby, Tig, and Juice stood outside a very familiar diner for Juice, it was where him and Letty had their first date, even though Letty continued to fight tooth and nail that it wasn't a date, Juice knew the truth. The smell of fried food waft through the air, while they waited for their meet with the chicken man, Juice old friend from his New York days. 

Juice paced back and forth, his hands fidgeting at his sides, while Bobby leaned against his bike, lighting a cigarette. They were early, and while Juice's erratic movements betrayed his impatience, Bobby was in no rush. He took a long drag, blowing the smoke out slowly as his eyes wandered to Juice. 

Juice looked rough. He hadn't been himself since Letty went missing. The tension in his shoulders was clear as day, and the way his eyes darted around showed he was barely hanging on. He'd always been the kind of guy to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but now, it was like he was carrying the weight of the world on his back.

Bobby exchanged a glance with Tig, who had noticed it too. After a moment, Bobby pushed off his bike, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot, approaching Juice with a calm but direct demeanor, "Hey, kid," Bobby started, crossing his arms as he stood in front of him. "How you holdin' up?"

Juice stopped pacing, his head snapped over to Bobby's direction, his eyes blinking rapidly as he focused on the much larger man. He shrugged, trying to play it off, but there was no hiding the exhaustion in his voice, "I'm fine, man. Just, uh...trying to keep busy."

Tig walked over to join them, his face twisted in concern. He crossed his arms, tilting his head as he gave Juice a once-over, "You don't look fine, brother. You look like shit."

Juice chuckled weakly, running a hand over his shaved head, "Thanks, Tig. That helps."

Bobby shook his head, his voice softer now, "We're worried about you, Juice."

Juice's jaw clenched as he shook his head with a frustrated sigh, "It's like she just disappeared, man. I don't know where the hell she is." His voice cracked on the last word, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to pull himself together. "I'm just starting to feel like...every lead we've had has been another dead end. What if she's not even in Vancouver, man?!" 

Tig sighed, placing a hand on Juice's shoulder, "We'll find her, Juice. You know that, right? The club's got your back." 

Juice looked down, the weight of his emotions catching up to him. He nodded, but the fear in his eyes was unmistakable, "I just...I can't stop thinking about her. What if something's happened? What if she's hurt, or worse? I don't know what I'd do if..."

"Hey," Bobby cut him off gently. "None of that. Don't go there, man. You can't think like that. We'll find her. You've got to trust that."

Juice swallowed hard, his eyes glassy, "It's just hard, you know? I can't sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see her. I hear her voice, but when I wake up, she's not there. It's driving me crazy."

Tig squeezed Juice's shoulder, his expression serious for once, "Letty Is important to all of us, you are not alone in this, brother. And we are going to bring her home where she belongs. You've just gotta hold on a little longer."

Bobby nodded, his voice steady, "And if anyone's messed with her, they'll be hell to pay," he said, his eyes darkening. 

Juice looked between the two of them, feeling a flicker of hope amidst the darkness. He knew his brothers had his back, but the fear, the uncertainty - it was like a cloud that wouldn't lift. Still, their words meant something. He wasn't alone in this. And maybe, just maybe, they'd find her before it was too late.

Just as Bobby was about to say more, the sound of tires rolling over gravel pulled their attention toward the road. A beat-up van rolled into the parking lot. 

"Is this the van?" Tig asked, as he nodded toward the van.

"Yeah," Juice nodded, throwing his backpack over his shoulders. "That's the Chicken Man." 

"High roller?" Bobby inquired, giving Juice's shoulder a light squeeze. 

Juice nodded, "He's a little paranoid, so just let me deal with this one." Taking a deep breath, he shoved his hands into his pockets and headed over to the van. The world hadn't stopped spinning just because his had. But with his brothers beside him, maybe he could keep moving forward, even if just for today.

Charming 

2008

The bell above the door jingled as Juice pushed it open, ushering Letty into the small diner. The air was thick with the scent of bacon and freshly brewed coffee, the comforting hum of conversation wrapping around them like a warm blanket. He led her to a booth in the corner, trying to maintain a casual demeanour despite the drama that had brought them here.

Letty leaned back in the booth, her lips curved into a small smile as she scanned the menu. The light from the diner reflected in her dark eyes, making them sparkle in a way that sent a jolt of warmth through Juice.

"So, what are you getting?" Juice asked, trying to break the silence but also genuinely curious. He wanted to know everything about this girl, starting with something as simple as her favourite meal.

Letty glanced up from the menu, her gaze locking onto his. She bit her lip, a playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, "You sure you wanna know?" she playfully challenged. 

"I think I can handle it," Juice replied, leaning forward, elbows on the table.

Letty smirked and put the menu down, "A burger."

"A burger?" Juice echoed, his eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise. He half-expected her to go for something lighter, like a salad or some french fries like most girls he took out. 

Letty's smirk widened, and she shrugged casually, "Oh, hell yeah. First thing you need to know about me, I'm not one of those girls who orders a salad to try and impress a cute guy. If I'm hungry, I'm getting the biggest, greasiest burger on the menu with no shame what-so-ever. If you gotta a problem with that, you're definitely sitting at the wrong table." She paused, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "But fair warning..." she whispered, leaning closer like she was telling a secret. "...I won't look like a lady eating it." 

Juice's eyes widened at her statement, letting out a chuckle, "Oh, I'm definitely at the right table. Any girl who can handle a big juicey burger is someone I need to know better," he said with a hidden seduction as he bit his bottom lip, his eyes filling with lust as they locked with hers. 

Letty tried hard to cover the blush that crept across her cheeks at his words. A nervous giggle slipped from her lips as she shuffled in her seat, feeling the familiar tingle between her legs. 

"And who said you needed to look like a lady?" he teased, his eyes filling with admiration. "From what I hear, you can throw a punch better than half the guys in the club."

Letty laughed, a soft, musical sound that made Juice's heart skip a beat, "True, but there's a difference between throwing a punch and stuffing your face."

Juice grinned, shaking his head, "Trust me, Letty. You could eat a whole damn burger, fries, and a milkshake, and I'd still think you were the hottest girl I've ever seen crash into T.M." 

Letty leaned back in her chair, a playful smirk dancing on her lips, "Oh, please." She waved a dismissive hand, "You might want to save that line for a girl who actually believes in fairy tales." She shrugged, taking a sip of her soda, "But I guess if you're into girls who can demolish a burger like a champ, you're in the right place."

Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she added, "Just don't get too used to this. I'm not some love-struck damsel waiting for a prince to sweep me off my feet."

Juice chuckled, leaning in a little closer, "Well, good thing I'm not a prince then, because I don't do the whole sweeping thing. But I can definitely appreciate a girl who knows what she wants." He winked, his gaze lingering on her, "Besides, I think the 'tough girl' vibe just makes you so damn sexy. Just don't expect me to share my fries when you finished with that burger."

Letty smiled, and there was something softer in her expression now, like she appreciated that he didn't expect her to be anything but herself, "Good to know."

The waitress came by, and Letty confidently ordered her burger, throwing in an order of fries and a chocolate milkshake for good measure. Juice, not to be outdone, ordered the same.

As the waitress walked away, Letty leaned her elbows on the table, looking at Juice with an amused glint in her eyes, "So, do you take all the girls to greasy diners?"

A sheepish grin spread across Juice's face, "I thought it wasn't a date."

Letty matched his smirk, "It's not," she shot back, before taking a huge bite from her burger, grease practically rolling down to her elbows with each juicy bite. 

Juice couldn't help but chuckle at her dedication, the way her fingers danced around the bun, as if it were a prized possession. As she took each bite, her expression transformed; eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment, a contented sigh escaping her lips. Juice's heart skipped a beat, mesmerised by the pure joy on her face.

Letty's cheeks flushed as she chewed, clearly savoring every bite. A small dollop of ketchup escaped the edge of the burger, trailing down her fingers, and Juice fought the urge to reach out and wipe it away. Instead, he leaned back slightly, observing her with an amused smile.

The way she licked her lips after each bite, completely unbothered by the mess she was making, made his pulse quicken. She was unapologetically herself, and it was intoxicating. Her laughter rang out as she playfully glanced up at him, the burger almost disappearing in her small hands. Juice felt an overwhelming sense of admiration wash over him; here was this fierce, free spirited woman, who wasn't afraid to indulge. 

"See? This is why salads are for the weak," she teased, her mouth full, but her eyes sparkled with a confidence that made his heart race. In that moment, as she devoured her burger with reckless abandon, he knew. This was the girl he had been waiting for. 

Juice couldn't help but laugh, utterly captivated by the sight. She was so effortlessly beautiful. God, he had never seen anyone look so damn good while eating a burger.

And as they sat there, just looking at each other challengingly as they ate, while the noise of the diner faded into the background. It felt easy-effortless even. There was no pretense, no pressure to be anything but themselves. And for the first time in a long time, Letty felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be - laughing over burgers and fries with Juice Ortiz. 

While Juice couldn't help but think that maybe - just maybe - this was the start of something real. Something more than just his usual casual hookups and party favours from the guys.

As the conversation flowed effortlessly; talking about music, movies, and their lives. Juice found himself drawn to Letty's free spirit, her laughter a balm to the heat that had been simmering within him since the first time he laid his eyes on her. 

"So, what's your story?" Letty asked, leaning forward, her interest genuine. "You've got that whole cute, but clueless, nerdy vibe going on. But I feel like there's more to you than just being Juice Ortiz, the Intelligence Officer of Samcro."

Juice smirked, his mouth half-full, "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you." He winked, and she giggled, shaking her head at the playful banter.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and in walked a tall, lanky guy with a bald head and a confident strut. Juice's eyes widened, and before he could say a word, the guy spotted him and called out, "Juan Carlos! There you are!"

Letty stifled a laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she watched Juice squirm.

"Uh, hey, Chicken," Juice groaned, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

Chicken made his way over to their booth, a wide grin plastered on his face, "What's up, bro? I didn't know you were having a lunch date with this pretty lady." He winked at Letty, making her cringe, as he turned back to Juice, "You're lucky you're not at T.M. right now. I swear they had you under surveillance for a second there."

Juice shook his head, simply brushing off his friend's paranoia with a light-hearted chuckle, "Yeah, just two friends grabbing a bite."

Chicken's eyes darted between them, clearly unconvinced, "Friends? Is that what you kids are calling it these days?" He chuckled and leaned in closer, "Come on, Juan Carlos, you can't fool me. I know when there's chemistry in the air. I can practically smell it."

Letty burst out laughing, and Juice shot her a look of mock-horror, "Did you just say you can smell chemistry? That's some high-quality stuff, Chicken. You should probably lay off whatever you're smoking."

"Hey now," Chicken said, holding up his hands in mock-surrender. "I only deal in the finest goods, my friend. Just trying to get you to open your eyes." He leaned closer to Letty, a conspiratorial grin on his face, "So, you're telling me there's nothing going on here?"

"Nothing at all," Juice insisted, crossing his arms stubbornly. "Just--"

"Just two friends enjoying some good food," Letty chimed in, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she played along.

"Yeah, right," Chicken said, rolling his eyes. "Whatever you say. Just remember, Juan Carlos, you can't hide from the Chicken man. I'm always watching."

With that, Chicken winked exaggeratedly and sauntered away, leaving Juice red-faced and Letty still giggling uncontrollably.

"I can't believe you're real name is Juan Carlos," she teased, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "What are you, a telenovela star?"

"Shut up," Juice replied, his cheeks still flushed. "It's not that funny."

"It kind of is," Letty countered, her smile infectious.

"Okay, fine," he relented, chuckling. "But don't tell anyone. It's a very serious name."

"Your secret is safe with me, Juan Carlos," she said, her tone light. "Just as long as you don't start calling me Letitia."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said, shaking his head. "You'll always be Letty to me."

As they resumed their meal, the laughter still lingering in the air, Juice couldn't help but feel that the bond they were forming was something special - one that neither of them fully understood yet, but one of them were more than willing to explore it, while the other wasn't going to make it easy for him. 

***

As Letty and Juice left the diner, the warm afternoon air wrapped around them, a welcome relief from the cold morning. Letty walked beside him, their conversation light but laced with an unspoken tension from their earlier flirtation. The sound of their boots hitting the pavement was the only thing breaking the silence.

"Thanks for this, Juice," Letty said, glancing over at him with a small smile. "I needed the distraction, especially after the blowout with my dad. Things have just been so...chaotic lately," she said, subconsciously rubbing her bruised wrist, which didn't go unnoticed by Juice, which sent a surge of anger through him. He couldn't believe anyone would want to hurt someone as beautiful and kind as Letty Morrow. 

Juice nodded, stuffing his clenched fists in his jacket pockets of his kutte, "Yeah, I could tell. It's been heavy for you. But you don't always have to handle it on your own, y'know?" A knowing look crossing his face. 

Letty smirked, bumping his shoulder lightly, "Says the guy who thought asking a girl out for a meal was totally platonic." 

Juice chuckled, his grin widening, "Hey, you're the one who got all offended at the thought of me even suggesting we go out, I was just trying to be a nice guy," he said, raising his hands in mock-surrender. "And I know this isn't a date, but damn, there's no denying how hot you are. Shit, I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to tap that ass of yours. I'm still a guy after all."

Letty laughed softly, a sound that made Juice's chest tighten in a way he wasn't used to, "Well, aren't you a little charmer? Just remember, JuJu, I'm not that easy. If you want to get deep inside this pussy, you're going to have to work a little harder than just being a good guy."

As they laughed together, a comfortable silence washed over them as they slowly continued their journey to Juice's Harley. 

"So, you pretty much know all the details of my life. How about you? Was your childhood just as chaotic as mine?" she asked, her eyes studying the ground as she kicked small pebbles with the ends of her Chuck Taylors. 

Juice stiffened for a moment, his usual ease giving way to a flicker of tension, "Uh, yeah, there's not much to tell really. I never met my dad. He took off when me and my sister were still babies. My mum was...she was old-fashioned, you know? Very religious."

"Religious?" Letty raised an eyebrow as she looked at him, intrigued. "Like, church every Sunday, can't-curse-in-the-house kind of religious?"

"Exactly," Juice nodded, letting out a short laugh. "She was strict as hell, man. I couldn't get away with anything as a kid. Always quoting Bible verses, making me feel guilty over the smallest things."

Letty smiled sympathetically, watching him closely, "No wonder you're still single. You probably don't take many girls home to meet mummy dearest. Afraid she'll pull out the holy water?"

Juice grinned, but there was a hint of discomfort in it, "Something like that. She's...let's just say she's not really into my lifestyle. If she knew half the stuff I was into with the club..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

Letty tilted her head, stepping closer to him, placing a hand on his arm, feeling a weird warmth rush through her, making her quickly move it, avoiding Juice's gaze, who seemed to have felt it too, "Sounds like you had a lot to live up to. Must've been hard to break away from that," she said, as they continued to walk down the path to the carpark. 

Juice shrugged, his expression softening, "Yeah, it was. But I guess that's just how it is, you know? She wanted something different for me. Something better, in her eyes. But I had to figure out my own path."

Letty gave him a knowing look, "That's never easy, choosing your own way when everyone else has their own expectations."

Juice locked eyes with her, the weight of her words sinking in, "Yeah...but sometimes, you gotta do what feels right. Even if it means breaking away from everything you were taught."

Letty held his gaze, feeling a deeper connection form between them. She knew all too well about disappointing family expectations, about forging her own path amidst chaos. Her eyes narrowed in thought. She didn't even rrealise she'd spoken out loud until the words slipped out freely, "You're really not like the rest of them..."

Juice paused mid-sentence, his eyebrows raised in surprise, "What?"

Letty blinked, suddenly aware of what she'd just said, but it was too late to take it back now. She quickly recovered with a shrug, trying to act casual, "I just mean...you seem different. You don't seem like every other Son." 

He smirked, his eyes glinting with curiosity, "Different, huh? Does this mean I have a chance with the prince of Samcro?" 

Letty let out a soft laugh, shaking her head, "Don't get cocky, Juan Carlos. I date Sons. No exceptions." 

Juice smiled, this time more genuine, "Maybe I have to reconsider my life choices then." He gestured to his bike as they came to a stop beside it, breaking the moment with a slight grin, "Come on, let's get out of here before the diner staff starts thinking we're holding up the parking lot," he said, gazing over to the diner window where a couple of older ladies, who looked like they attended church together every Sunday, were sending daggers at the pair, clad in their leather jackets, with their eyes. 

As Juice mounted his bike, the rumble of the engine echoed in the quiet parking lot. He handed Letty a spare helmet, but before he could swing his leg over the seat, she impulsively stepped forward, closing the distance between them.

With a sudden burst of courage, Letty reached up and kissed him, her lips crashing against his with an intensity that took them both by surprise. Juice stiffened for a moment, shock flickering in his eyes, but that hesitation quickly melted away as he surrendered to the kiss, leaning into her with a deep, hungry groan.

The world around them faded, the noise of the diner and the buzz of the night air disappearing into the background as their lips moved together. The kiss was longer than Letty had anticipated, a mix of urgency and longing, filled with unspoken words and a connection that sent shivers down her spine. She felt the heat radiating between them, the electricity crackling in the air, igniting a fire within her that she had been trying so hard to ignore all afternoon. 

Juice's hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as his body responded instinctively to her touch. Letty felt herself getting lost in the moment, the sensation of him against her awakening something deep inside her. The kiss deepened, their breaths mingling, as Juice let out a soft grunt that sent a thrill through her.

But as the desire surged within her, a rush of wetness pooled between her legs, startling her back to reality. She pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, meeting Juice's stunned expression. His surprise mirrored her own, the heat of the moment still hanging thick in the air. Neither of them had expected...well, that. But the uncharted territory ahead felt exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. 

"Whoa!" Juice exclaimed, out of breath, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "What was that for?"

"A thanks for lunch," she said, her voice laced with mischief. "But don't get any ideas, Ortiz. This is still not a date."

Juice blinked, caught between bewilderment and delight, "Not a date, huh?" he said, a chuckle escaping him as she put on the helmet, her hair spilling over the edges like a halo. If this wasn't a date - what the hell did Letty Morrow do on a date? 

"Right," she replied, a mock-serious expression on her face as she climbed onto the bike behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling herself close.

Juice felt the warmth of her body pressing against him, a spark igniting in his chest. He couldn't help but shake his head, a grin stretching across his face, "You're a handful, you know that?"

Letty grinned, leaning her chin against his shoulder, "Oh, you have no idea. But trust me, Juice, you couldn't handle me if you tried." She gave him a playful wink, daring him with her teasing tone as he glanced at her over his shoulder. 

As he revved the engine, Letty held onto him tightly, the vibrations of the bike sending a thrill through her. Despite having only known him for a couple of days, the closeness felt surprisingly comforting. A warmth spread through her chest, wrapping around her heart like a soft blanket. She had never felt this instantly close to someone before, and the feeling was intoxicating.

Juice felt her grip tighten, and he couldn't help but smile to himself. The laughter from earlier echoed in his mind, along with the memory of her kiss lingered on his lips. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between them, even if Letty insisted it was nothing more than two friends hanging out, he knew this feeling in his chest had to be a lot more than that. 

As they pulled away from the diner, the wind whipped around them, carrying away the worries of the day. Juice focused on the road ahead, but in the back of his mind, he couldn't shake the thought that maybe, just maybe, this was more than a casual lunch between friends. And it was. As this day marked the start of Letty and Juice's ride of die journey that they would continue to embark on together - Side by Side - Always. 

The sterile halls of St. Thomas were quieter than usual, the low hum of hospital machines barely audible over the occasional murmur of doctors and nurses shuffling between rooms. Jax walked with purpose, his boots clicking softly against the linoleum floor as he made his way down the hallway, Clay not far behind. Both men kept their voices low, knowing full well the importance of discretion in a place like this.

As they neared the corner, Jax spotted Chibs leaning against the wall, deep in conversation with Opie. Chibs' sharp eyes flicked over to Jax and Clay for a moment but quickly returned to his discussion, his lips moving in hushed tones as he and Opie shared a few words.

Jax slowed his pace slightly, giving them space before turning his attention to Clay. His eyebrows were furrowed, the weight of the situation heavy on his shoulders. He ran a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath as he leaned against the cool wall, his voice just above a whisper, "I left a message at her place," he started, glancing over to Chibs, making sure he wasn't listening in, before he continued. "Some smug, bastard kid picked up the phone. Claimed he didn't know anyone named Loraine, but I made sure he knew it was important. Mother-to-mother, I said. Hopefully, that gets her attention."

Clay's eyes narrowed as he listened, arms crossed over his chest. His eyebrows furrowed, deep lines of frustration marking his face, "Smug bastard kid, huh? Figures. We dealing with some punk, or you think he's tied to Loraine?"

Jax shrugged, keeping his voice low, "Could be either. Didn't get much out of him, but I pushed as hard as I could without blowing it. I gave him our number, told him to pass the message along." 

Clay grunted, his hand rubbing his chin as he processed the information. 

"You think she'll respond?" Jax asked, nervously glancing back at Chibs once more, whose conversation looked like it was coming to a close. 

Clay's eyes darkened, the uncertainty gnawing at him, "I don't know. She called once. It means she's been watching, at least - Keeping tabs. But the question is why? And why now?"

Before Jax could respond, Chibs' voice drifted over, breaking the tension slightly, "You hear anything?"

Both men glanced over to see Chibs giving them a knowing look, clearly picking up on their hushed conversation. Opie, standing beside him, raised an eyebrow, his attention now fully on Jax and Clay.

Jax shook his head slightly, signaling that they'd talk about it later, "Not yet," he said, his voice still low, though the frustration was evident in his tone. "Just playing the waiting game for now."

Chibs gave a tight nod, his arms crossed. 

"That kid you talked to, he give you a name?" Clay asked with furrowed eyebrows, his face contorted in deep thought. 

"Nope. Just attitude," Jax muttered with a smirk, though it didn't reach his eyes. 

***

Juice sat in the cramped waiting room of St. Thomas, his body throbbing from the brutal assault he had just endured at the hands of Salazar and the Calaveras.

The faint sounds of the Hospital buzzed around him, but all he could focus on was the sharp pain radiating from his ribs and the ache in his jaw. Yet, it wasn't the physical wounds that gnawed at him the most; it was the hollow pit in his stomach that had nothing to do with the beating he had taken.

His patch - his kutte - was gone. Salazar had stripped it from him, and with it, the sense of identity it provided. But the real blow came from the realisation that the kutte contained something irreplaceable: the engagement ring he had bought for Letty months ago. He had kept it hidden in the inner pocket, waiting for the right moment to ask her to be his wife, to start their life together. The thought of it now, lost in the hands of the enemy, felt like a punch to the gut.

Juice closed his eyes, the image of Letty's smile flashing in his mind. He could almost hear her teasing laughter, the way her eyes lit up when she was excited. He had wanted to be the man who could give her everything - a future, a promise. But now that promise felt shattered. The ring was more than just a piece of jewelry; it was a symbol of hope, of love, and of a life they could still build together. But it was taken from him, just like she was. All because he wasn't strong enough. 

Charming 

2008

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over Main Street as Juice and Letty strolled hand in hand, their laughter mingling with the sounds of the bustling town. The vibrant storefronts glimmered with lights, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of summer. Letty felt a sense of ease and happiness she hadn't experienced since Donna's death, by simply enjoying Juice's company and the normalcy of the moment.

As they passed a charming little ice cream shop, Juice gave Letty a playful grin, "Vanilla Choc Chip?"

She nodded, a smile spreading across her face, "You know it, baby!"

"Stay right here. I'll grab us some," he said, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead, before darting off toward the shop.

Left to her own devices, Letty's gaze wandered until it landed on a nearby jewellery store. Something about the sparkle of the rings in the window caught her eye, but it was the engagement ring prominently displayed that truly captivated her; a beautiful, delicate band adorned with a shimmering diamond at its center. She found herself lost in thought, imagining a future with Juice, one she felt she didn't deserve. 

A few moments later, she felt a familiar set of arms wrap around her waist from behind, as Juice rested his chin on her shoulder, "Line's a little long, just wanted to wait for it to die down a bit. What are you looking at?" he asked, his breath warm against her skin.

Letty hesitated, brushing it off, "Oh, just...nothing," she replied, though the hint of longing in her voice betrayed her.

Juice smirked knowingly and turned her gently in his arms, "You know I can read you like a book, right?"

She rolled her eyes playfully but couldn't hide the warmth that spread across her cheeks, "Fine, maybe I was looking at that ring in the centre. But it's just a ring, Juice!" she quickly blurted out, not wanting to scare him off, thinking she wanted him to pop the question so soon. "It doesn't mean anything," she reassured him.

"Just a ring, huh?" he teased, raising an eyebrow. He could sense the deeper feelings swirling beneath her causal demeanour. Not saying another word, he simply moved toward the door.

Letty was quick to grab his arm, stopping him, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, "What are you doing?!" Her tone was high pitched and panicked. 

He turned to her, his own face etched with confusion, "I'm gonna buy you that ring you want," he said ever-so-casually. "I got some cash for doing up a bike for a neighbour--" 

Letty burst out laughing, the sound bright and infectious, "Juice, it's an engagement ring!"

"Yeah, so?" he replied, frowning in confusion.

Letty tried to catch her breath, amusement dancing in her eyes, "Baby, we've only been together a little over a month! I haven't even met your mother yet!"

"You want to meet my mother? Okay, fine," he said simply, pulling out his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, lifting the lid, before he started to dial a number, bringing it up to his ear.

"No!" Letty was quick to grab the phone, slamming it shut, her eyes widened in panic. "Juice, I'm not ready for that! From what you've told me, she makes Gemma and Clay look like Mr. and Mrs. Claus! And I'm not exactly in the mood for an interrogation that might involve...I don't know...an exorcism or something! And we are certainly not ready for you to be purchasing rings!" 

Juice shrugged, an adorable grin spreading across his face, "I don't see the problem. You're my girl, and I'm just being practical."

Letty shook her head, unable to suppress her laughter, "Practical?! Are you serious?! This isn't exactly an everyday purchase!"

"But it's for you, baby! I want you to have the best," he insisted, still completely earnest.

Letty run a shaky hand through her hair, amusement sparkling in her eyes, "Ju, let's at least wait until we've survived a few more family dinners before you go dropping thousands on a ring."

Juice laughed, pulling her closer, "Okay, okay. But don't think I won't be making a trip to this jeweller when the time is right." 

Little did, Letty know he was there a week later, purchasing more than just a necklace. 

With a playful roll of her eyes, Letty wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, standing on her tipy toes, she kissed him softly, "Just promise me you'll save your money for ice cream dates instead..." A content sigh left her lips as she rested her forehead on his. "For now at least."

"Deal," he replied, sealing it with another kiss, both of them bubbling with excitement over their future - one filled with laughter, love, and a few more ice cream dates to come.

Letty and Juice quickly got lost in the kiss, the world around them fading away as they pressed their bodies closer together, their lips moving with intensity. The heat between them was undeniable, and it didn't take long for people passing by to notice. A few mothers shot them disapproving glares, rushing to cover their kids' eyes as Juice's hands gripped Letty's ass, pulling her flush against him.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, Juice's chest heaved. He felt the familiar tightening in his jeans and immediately grabbed Letty's hand, pulling her with urgency toward her Mustang. Letty couldn't help but giggle at his sudden shift in mood as he muttered, "Let's get back to my place. Now."

But Letty, ever the tease, smirked, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "Wait, what about the ice cream?" she said with a pout. 

Juice shot her a sideways glance, not slowing down for a second, "Fuck the ice cream. I'd much rather eat your sweet, juicy pussy," he replied, growling with desire as spun her around, pressing her had against the car door. 

Letty's laughter bubbled up, but the playful glint in her eyes quickly turned into something else. She didn't need any more convincing after that. With a wicked grin, she cupped Juice's neck, pulling him closer to her, so she could smash her lips against his, a strong hunger and need for each other sizzling between them.

Juice pulled back, but barely got the car door open before Letty was on him again, their mouths crashing together in a frenzy of desire. The Mustang's backseat wasn't spacious, but neither of them cared. In the haze of their urgency, clothes were discarded haphazardly, Juice's kutte thrown over the front seat, her jeans hastily kicked off. Juice's hands were everywhere, rough and tender at the same time, like he couldn't get enough of her.

He pushed Letty down onto the back seats, the leather cool against her bare skin as his lips trailed down her neck, making her shudder. 

"Told you I'd much rather have this," he murmured with a grin, his hands sliding down her thighs, parting them with ease. The intensity in his dark eyes made her breath hitch. 

And then Juice did exactly what he promised. His head dipped lower, his mouth finding the sweet spot he had been dying to taste since they left Main Street. Letty gasped as his tongue flicked against her clit, sending shockwaves through her entire body. Juice was relentless, not holding back, savoring every reaction she gave him; the way her hips bucked, the soft moans that turned into louder, desperate pleas.

"Juice..." she panted, fingers threading through her own hair, tugging at her long locks, as his mouth worked her over, pleasure building and building until she thought she might come undone. Every flick of his tongue, every movement, was driving her closer to the edge.

Her Mustang's windows fogged up in no time, her body arching against him as she gave herself over completely to the feeling. Letty couldn't think of anything else - couldn't focus on anything but the way Juice was devouring her like she was the only thing that mattered. And in that moment, she was.

When she finally came, it hit her like a tidal wave, her whole body trembling as Juice's name spilled from her lips. He came up for air, a satisfied grin on his face as he hovered over her, looking down with a mix of pride and adoration.

"I told you," he said, voice low and raspy. "Nothing's sweeter," he whispered, sweeping up her excess cum from around her core and placing his fingers on her lips. 

Letty wasted no time wrapping her lips around his fingers and sucking her own juices off, humming in delight as her eyes instinctively close. 

Juice's eyes filled with hunger at the sight, a growl escaping the back of his throat as he lunged forward, capturing her lips with his at the same time tugging her forward by her out stretched thighs and thrusting himself deep inside her, making letty cry out in pure, undeniable pleasure. 

The door to the waiting room swung open, and in rushed Rey, her nurse's uniform crisp as ever, though her eyes were wide with concern the moment they landed on Juice, hunched over with his hoodie drapped over his head, covering half his face. She practically sprinted across the room, not caring who noticed as she crouched down in front of Juice, her voice low and worried.

"Jesus, Juice, what the hell happened to you?" she asked, her fingers already brushing his chin, tilting his head gently so she could assess the damage.

Juice managed a crooked smile, though it was more of a grimace, "The usual," he muttered, his voice raspy. "Don't worry about it."

But Rey wasn't having it, "Like hell I'm not worrying," she shot back, her tone firm but laced with care. "Come on, we need to get you patched up. Can you walk?"

Without waiting for an answer, she slipped her arm under his and helped him to his feet, guiding him toward an empty examination room. Juice leaned on her a little, grateful for the help, but also for her presence, one of the few people who still saw him as more than the mess he was becoming without Letty.

Once inside the room, Rey flicked on the light, gesturing for Juice to sit on the exam table. She grabbed some supplies, her movements quick but careful. The silence between them was heavy as she cleaned the gash on his forehead and started stitching him up.

Juice kept his eyes on her, watching the way her hands worked so efficiently, so gently. The antiseptic stung, but he didn't flinch. He was used to the pain, at least the physical kind. 

Suddenly, Juice reached out, his hand wrapping around her wrist lightly, stopping her for a moment, "Rey," he started, his voice soft, like he was trying to find the right words. "I...I don't know how to thank you properly for looking out for me, and stuff. I mean it."

Rey looked down at his hand on hers, her eyerows furrowing in confusion, "You don't need to thank me, Ortiz," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're my friend. What else would I do?"

Juice sighed, releasing her wrist and leaning back against the wall, "That's the problem, Rey. I don't want you getting in too deep with this. You patching me up, us hanging out..." he paused, shaking his head. "It's not the same as being a crow eater. Being close to any of us, especially now, it's...it's dangerous, Aud. People who get close to me tend to get hurt." His voice dropped with the weight of his words, the warning clear.

But Rey just shook her head stubbornly, her hands resuming their work as she finished bandaging his ribs, "You really think I don't know that, Juice?" she asked, her voice low but fierce. "I know what it's like to lose people, to get hurt. But I'm not about to step aside just because you think you're protecting me. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

Juice closed his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh, "Rey, this is different. Letty's missing, and things are...they're bad right now. You don't want to get caught up in this shit!"

She stepped back, folding her arms across her chest, her expression set in defiance, "I don't care how bad it gets. You and Letty are my friends. That's what matters to me. I'm not backing down just because you're scared for me."

Juice opened his eyes, meeting her stubborn gaze. He knew she meant every word, and part of him was relieved that she wouldn't just walk away. But the other part, the part that was breaking without Letty, couldn't shake the fear that she'd be the next person he'd lose. Because these past few weeks, the two have gotten pretty close, she had become a close confidant for Juice, the person he called late at night whenever he felt himself slipping. And every single time without fail, she was there with a bag full of snacks and a six pack of beer. 

"You're stubborn as hell, you know that?" he muttered, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips despite everything.

Rey smirked, her eyes softening as she nudged his shoulder lightly, "Guess that's why we get along."

Juice chuckled, but it quickly turned into a wince as his ribs reminded him of the pain, "All right, fine," he said. "But if anything happens to you, Aud...I won't forgive myself."

"Nothing's gonna happen to me," she promised, her voice steady and sure. "Now sit tight. You're not leaving here until I'm done patching you up."

And for the first time that day, Juice let himself relax just a little, knowing that, at least for now, he wasn't alone.

***

Tara stepped into Gemma's hospital room at St. Thomas, her hands gripping her stethoscope tightly, her nerves wound up like a coil. The room smelled of antiseptic, a sharp contrast to the heaviness that hung in the air. She found Gemma sitting upright in bed, looking more like a general plotting the next move in a war than a patient recovering from an arrhythmia. The older woman's expression was hard, but there was a flicker in her eyes, one that told Tara this conversation was going to be difficult.

"Rey said you wanted to see me?" Tara's voice came out steadier than she felt.

"Yeah," Gemma replied, her tone curt.

Tara stepped closer, her heart beating a little faster with each step. Whatever Gemma had to say, it wasn't going to be good, "What is it?" Tara asked, her chest tightening.

Gemma's gaze fixed on her, intense and unyielding, "Stahl came by. Threatened to take away my deal. Guess I didn't officially turn myself in."

Tara blinked, caught off guard. After everything, now this? 

"But you called her. She knew--"

Gemma cut her off with a wave of her hand, "She's desperate. Pressing me for intel on the Irish. Your name came up."

Tara's stomach dropped. Of course Stahl was at it again; weaving her web, tangling everyone up in it. With a heavy sigh, Tara sank into the chair beside Gemma's bed, feeling the weight of the past weeks press down on her shoulders.

"She was in the room when the FBI interviewed me," Tara said, her voice tight. "I didn't tell them anything."

Gemma studied her for a moment, her eyes narrowing in suspicion, "Why don't you tell me?"

Tara's breath hitched. It was like ripping open an old wound, but she had to let it out. She had to say it, "It's what Juice said," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "Cameron killed Half-Sack, then he tried to kill Abel. Letty stepped in, stopped him. They started fighting over the gun. Cameron got the upper hand, and then..." She paused, the memory so vivid it made her chest ache. "...He tied us both up. He was going to take Abel, but Letty offered herself instead."

Silence followed, thick and suffocating. Tara could barely meet Gemma's gaze, her heart heavy with guilt. She had done everything she could, but the doubt never left her - Had she done enough?

Gemma's eyes turned steely, her voice dripping with accusation, "Nothing you could have done about that?"

Tara's head jerked up, anger flaring in her chest - Did she really just say that?

"I had a gun pointed at my head!" Tara shot back, her voice sharp with disbelief.

But Gemma wasn't backing down, "Letty would've thrown herself in front of a bullet for you. What did you do? Just stand there and watch her struggle?!" 

The words hit Tara like a punch to the gut. Her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes, the guilt she'd been carrying around for so long crashing over her. She blinked, but the tears spilled over anyway, "That's unbelievably cruel," she whispered, her voice cracking as she fought to keep her composure. "I did everything I could!"

Gemma didn't flinch, her expression cold and unforgiving, "Everything except save my daughter."

The dam broke. Tara sobbed, her shoulders shaking as the guilt and pain she had tried so hard to suppress finally overwhelmed her. She couldn't stop the tears, couldn't stop the torrent of emotions pouring out of her. She had failed. Failed Letty, failed Abel, failed Kip, and failed her unborn baby. 

Charming

2008

The house was eerily silent, the tension thick in the air. Letty's heart pounded in her chest as she crouch over Half-Sack's lifeless body, her eyes wide and wild with fear. Tara sat beside her, clutching her close to her chest, her breath shaky as Cameron loomed over them, gun in hand.

Cameron's eyes were dark and manic, his grip tightening on the gun as he pointed it at Abel, who lay asleep in his carrier on the kitchen counter. Letty saw the crazed determination in his gaze - the intent to take something from them, like Gemma took from him. She couldn't let that happen. Wouldn't let that happen. 

"No!" Letty's voice cracked through the heavy silence, and Cameron's head snapped toward her, startled by the force in her tone.

He hesitated for a split second, just enough time for Letty to lunge at him. Her hands closed around the barrel of the gun, and it fired, causing a bullet to fly up into the ceiling, leaving a small hole in its wake. 

They crashed into walls and furniture as they fought for control. Cameron was bigger, stronger, and in his fury, he easily overpowered her, slamming her against the wall with a grunt.

The breath was knocked out of her lungs as her back hit the wall, but Letty didn't give up. She fought, nails digging into his skin, teeth clenched as she struggled to pull the gun away from him. But Cameron was relentless. He threw his weight against her, and with a brutal shove, he managed to rip the gun free from her hands.

Cameron took a step toward Tara, and Letty's panic surged. He picked up the knife he used to kill Half-Sack from the floor, the blade catching the light as he twisted it in his hand, eyes locked on Tara like a predator stalking their prey. 

Letty's instincts kicked in, and she scrambled over to crouch protectively in front of Tara, shielding her with her body, "Cameron, you don't have to do this!" she pleaded, her voice steady despite the fear thrumming through her veins. "You can walk away. No one else has to die," she croaked, tears threatening to spill out as she glanced over at Half-Sack's lifeless body, lying in a pool of his own blood. 

"Your mother killed my son!" he spat, his face contorted with rage. "I have nothing left!"

Tara, standing behind Letty, wrapped her arms protectively around her belly, trembling with fear. 

He took a step toward them, eyes locking on Tara, his features shifting into a more terrifying expression. 

Cameron gripped the knife tightly, and with shaky hands, he shoved Letty out of the way and continued toward the doctor. 

Letty's heart pounded in her chest. She saw the madness in his eyes, the despair, and knew she had to act fast. She couldn't let Tara get hurt - Jax would never forgive her. 

"Cameron, no!" Letty screamed, launching herself at him just as he raised the knife. 

The two of them crashed together, the gun Cameron still had in his other hand, fell to the floor. Letty wasn't sure where it went, but it didn't matter. She grabbed at Cameron's arm, trying to wrestle the knife away from him. But he was strong, fuelled by his fury, but Letty wasn't about to back down either. She fought, teeth clenched, every muscle in her body straining against him.

"Get out of here, Tara!" Letty shouted, struggling to keep Cameron's attention on her.

"No!" she shouted back stubbornly. "I'm not leaving you!" 

Tara's were eyes wide with horror, as she panickingly searched for the lost weapon. 

Suddenly, Cameron shoved Letty hard, sending her sprawling to the floor. He turned his attention back to Tara, his eyes full of menace as he raised the knife again, stepping toward her. Tara stumbled back, clutching her stomach, and for a split second, Letty could see the terror in her eyes, but it wasn't for herself. 

Without thinking, Letty lunged forward again, throwing herself between Cameron and Tara just as he swung the knife. The sharp edge slicing Letty's side, making her fall to her knees, clutching onto her bloody gash, but she didn't allow herself a breather as she shoved Tara back, out of Cameron's reach.

"Don't touch her!" Letty screamed, her voice hoarse.

Cameron let out a roar of frustration and swung the knife again, but this time, Letty was ready. She grabbed his arm, forcing it down, but the strength in him was terrifying. During the struggle, he managed to find the gun and picked it up, pressing it against Letty's temple. 

Tara cried out, but Letty was quick to grab the barrel of the gun, trying desperately to pry it out of Cameron's hand. Locked in a desperate battle for control, her arms burned with the effort. The gun went off again, the sound ringing in her ears, but thankfully the bullet had missed.

As Letty struggled, her grip faltered for just a moment, but it was long enough for Cameron to twist the gun out of her grip. Letting out a guttural scream and lunged at Tara again.

Letty didn't even think as she jumped between them, taking the full brunt of Cameron's rage, his boot, connecting with her side as she tried to push herself to her feet, stretching her wound. Pain shot through her, but she didn't care. She wasn't going to let him hurt Tara. 

Letty gasped as Cameron grabbed her arm roughly, his grip like iron. He was panting, his face twisted in fury, as he dragged her across the room, bounding her arms and legs together with tea towels he found hanging on the oven door, walking over to Tara to do the same. 

Tara cried out, clutching belly tightly, her voice filled with desperation, "Cameron, don't do this, please!" she begged, her voice trembling. 

Letty's wrists were raw from the bounds that Cameron had tied too tight, but the pain was nothing compared to the dread coiling in her chest. Her heart pounded like a drum, her pulse loud in ears. Cameron was pacing, his movements erratic, his eyes wild and unreadable as he muttered to himself.

Letty, panting and bruised, turned to Tara, "You okay?"

Tara, tears streeaming down her face, nodded, her hands trembling as she rested them on her belly, "You saved my life."

Letty shook her head, still catching her breath, "We're family, right? It's what we do." And despite their current situation, they shared a smile. 

But then, Letty noticed Cameron's eyes locked onto Abel once more, the infant who represented everything he had lost. His family. His son. His life.

"You're not taking him," Letty hissed, struggling against her restraints. 

Cameron shot the girl a murderous glare, "Shut up!" he shouted, raising his gun. 

Tara whimpered in fear, her eyes darting to Abel, who remained blissfully unaware. 

Cameron's eyes flickered toward Abel again, and Letty could see the decision forming in his mind. He was going to take her nephew. He was going to tear her family apart.

"No!" Letty yelled, her voice raw. "Take me instead," she blurted out. 

Cameron paused, eyes narrowing, "What?"

"Take me," Letty repeated, forcing her voice to remain steady, even though her heart was hammering against her chest. "You want someone to hurt the club? To make them pay? Take me. But you leave them alone." 

Tara gasped, her eyes widening in horror, "Letty, no!"

Letty shot Tara a look, her face pale but determined. She had to do this. Abel couldn't be taken, and if it meant giving herself up, she'd do it. 

Cameron's gaze flickered between Letty and the child, weighing his options. He stepped closer to her, his face inches from hers, the barrel of his gun pressing into her side, making her wince. 

"You're willing to die for them?" he asked, his voice low, dangerous.

Letty's jaw clenched, her eyes fierce as she faced Cameron, "I can't think of a better way for me to go out than laying down my life for the people I love."

Cameron seemed to consider her words for a moment, then nodded sharply. He yanked her to her feet, dragging her toward the door. Tara cried out behind them, the panic in her voice growing louder with each step.

"Letty, please! Don't do this!" Tara's voice cracked, tears streaming down her face. 

Letty stopped, her heart hammering against her chest, "Just...let me say goodbye." Her voice was steady despite the terror gnawing at her insides.

Cameron hesitated, his jaw tight, "You've got five minutes," he growled, shoving her back towards Tara. "But if you try anything, they're both dead." 

Letty rushed to Tara's side, kneeling beside her. Tara's eyes were wide with fear, "Don't do this, Letty, please. He's going to kill you--" 

Letty's throat tightened as she fought back the tears, "Tell Juice I'm sorry. Tell him I love him, more than I've ever loved anyone," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "And make sure the boys honor Half-Sack. Don't let them forget him."

Cameron's impatient footsteps echoed behind them, and Letty knew her time was running out. She placed a hand on Tara's stomach, her voice soft but firm, "Look after my nephews for me, all right? Make sure to tell them stories of their crazy Aunty Letty."

Tara's breath hitched, her hand instinctively covering Letty's, their hands still bound together. 

With a heavy heart, Letty rose to her feet and moved to the kitchen counter, gently picking up Abel's carrier. She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her nephew's forehead before setting him beside Tara, "I love you, little man." 

She cupped Tara's tear-streaked face, her voice breaking, "I love you, Tara. And I'm so glad you're with my brother. Keep him in line, yeah?" 

Cameron's rough voice cut through the air, "Time's up."

Letty shot Tara one last look, her lips curving into her famous smirk despite the fear clawing at her chest. She winked, her usual bravado slipping through even during the chaos, "Take care of our family." 

Before Tara could say anything else, Cameron yanked Letty toward the door, dragging her out at gunpoint. Letty glanced back one last time, her heart breaking at the sight of Tara laying helpless in the middle of the room, Abel in his carrier beside her, and Half-Sack lifeless eyes staring back at her. 

The door slammed behind them, the sound echoing through the house, leaving nothing but silence and the unbearable weight of what had just happened.

Letty had sacrificed herself for Abel. For Tara. For the innocent life yet to be born. And now, she was gone.

Gemma watched her break down, her own face softening slightly. It wasn't until a long silence passed that her voice broke through the storm of Tara's emotions, softer this time, gentler, "How far along are you?"

Tara's sobs quieted. She looked up at Gemma, confusion clouding her tear-streaked face, "What?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Gemma's eyes were sharp, studying her with unnerving clarity, "You're pregnant, aren't you?"

Tara hesitated for a moment, then nodded. There was no point in trying to deny it, Gemma could read anyone like a book, "Six weeks. Jax doesn't know. With everything else going on..." She let the sentence trail off, the exhaustion clear in her voice. "Doesn't make sense."

Gemma stared at her, the realisation sinking in. She shook her head slowly, a faint, almost bitter smile tugging at her lips, "You're quite the secret queen lately," she said, her voice heavy with meaning.

Tara couldn't help but smile through her tears, a small, sad laugh escaping her lips, "Yeah, well, your daughter taught me well."

Gemma's eyes flickered with something - a mix of pride and sorrow, "She knew, didn't she?"

Tara nodded, her heart aching, "She's my best friend. She was there when I took the test."

Gemma absorbed that information, her face softening further. She sighed, and then, she asked, "I'm assuming it's Jax's?" 

Tara nodded, her throat tightening. The enormity of it all; the secrets, the pain, the future, was nearly suffocating, "Yes," she whispered.

Gemma nodded in approval, "Good."

Tara stared at her in disbelief - After everything, that was it? 

"That's it? Good?!" 

Gemma raised her cuffed wrist, the metal clinking softly, "For now. Not exactly in a position of influence, am I?"

Before Tara could respond, a soft knock came at the door. Tara quickly wiped at her eyes as Rey stepped into the room, her face a mix of concern and urgency.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?" Rey asked, her voice steady, though her eyes flickered between Tara and Gemma, sensing the tension.

Tara took a deep breath, standing slowly. She glanced back at Gemma, before nodding and following Rey out into the hallway. 

Rey turned to her, her expression serious, "I know you're still deciding about your leave," she began, her voice calm but urgent. "But we have an emergency gastroschisis. Boy, 20 minutes old. Dr. Namid needs an assist."

Tara's heart sank. She couldn't deal with this right now, not after everything that had just happened, not with the weight of her own guilt and secrets pressing down on her, "I don't...I don't think that's a good idea," she said, her voice weak, unsure.

But Rey wasn't letting her off that easy, "Well, if you have a better one," she said, her voice laced with determination. "Then you can share it with his parents. 'Cause I don't know how to tell them that we may not be able to save their child."

Without waiting for a response, Rey walked away, her footsteps echoing down the sterile corridor. Tara stood frozen, her mind racing, her heart heavy. She was trapped - trapped between the weight of her past, the fear of her future, and the responsibility that came with being a doctor, a friend, a mother-to-be.

***

Father Kellan Ashby approached the gates of Shiv's compound, a place shrouded in darkness despite the setting sun. The massive iron doors groaned as they opened, revealing the gritty world inside where Shiv kept his 'girls' - a sickening sight, but one Kellan had learned to tolerate. Today, though, was different. Today, Letty Morrow was in there, and the pit in his stomach grew heavier with every step he took.

He was escorted past dingy hallways and dilapidated rooms until he reached the main area where Shiv held court. As Kellan entered, the air was thick with the acrid stench of sweat, pussy and cheap perfume. Girls - Shiv's girls - sat around, eyes glazed over, clearly high, their laughter eerie and hollow. And there, in the middle of the room, was Letty. She was struggling, thrashing as a man held her down, while another jabbed a needle into her arm.

"Stop!" Kellan's voice boomed as he rushed forward, but it was too late. The drug was already seeping into her veins, and Letty's movements slowed, her body going limp.

Shiv appeared from the shadows, a twisted smirk playing on his lips as he watched Letty's body slacken, "She's a feisty one," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. His gaze traveled over Letty like she was nothing more than prey. "Only way we can keep her contained."

Kellan's fists clenched as rage coursed through him. Without thinking, he grabbed Shiv by the arm and yanked him aside, "We agreed - no drugs!" he snarled, his eyes blazing with fury.

Shiv, unfazed, merely shrugged, "It's what works. You want her out of the way, don't you? This keeps her quiet."

Kellan stepped closer, his voice dropping dangerously low, "You and I have had a relationship of mutual benefit for some time. I turn a blind eye to your operation, and in return, you handle delicate dealings for the Army. But let's get something clear right now. Letty is not one of your girls. You're just holding her. Keeping her hidden until I need her."

Shiv's eyes darkened as he took a step forward, matching Kellan's intensity, "And let me get something straight, Father," he hissed, his tone dripping with venom. "All my girls work for their bed and board. She's no different."

Kellan reached into his coat, pulling out a wad of cash and thrusting it into Shiv's hand, "Here."

Shiv looked down at the cash, confusion briefly flashing across his face, "What's this?"

"Money," Kellan spat. "For her bed and board. Find another way to keep her contained that doesn't involve pumping her veins full of heroin!" 

The cold fury in Kellan's voice was enough to make even Shiv hesitate, but only for a moment. Shiv's smirk returned, his gaze flicking between the money and Letty's now unconscious form, "Sure thing, Father," he said, tucking the cash into his pocket.

As Kellan stormed out, his mind raced with plans to extract Letty from this hellhole before it was too late. But as the door slammed shut behind him, Shiv turned back to Letty, who lay on the floor, her breathing shallow and her face pale.

Shiv crouched beside her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering far too long. He stroked her cheek with a twisted tenderness that made his intentions clear, "Me and you," he whispered, his voice low and cruel. "Are going to have so much fun together, darling."

Shiv's smile widened as he stood, girls immediately moving like puppets on a string, drapping their arms around his waist, as his eyes gleamed with the dark promise of what was to come.

***

"Johnny, ye here?!" Fil called out as he stepped through the front door, his voice echoing through the quiet house.

"In the kitchen!" came the reply, muffled but clear.

Fil made his way through the familiar hallways, expecting to find his brother leaning against the counter with something edible in hand, as usual. But when he stepped into the kitchen, his eyes landed on a different scene entirely. Johnny wasn't hunched over a plate of leftovers; he was pacing back and forth, gnawing at his fingernails, his movements jittery and unsettled.

"Hey," Fil greeted, leaning against the doorway, eyes narrowing slightly at Johnny's erratic behavior.

Johnny glanced up briefly, acknowledging Fil with a quick nod of his chin, but said nothing, resuming his restless pacing. His fingers were bitten raw, and his eyes darted around like he couldn't settle on any one thing.

Fil frowned, stepping further into the room, "Mam here?"

Johnny shook his head, his eyes briefly meeting Fil's before flicking away, "Meeting with Jimmy."

Fil let out a heavy sigh, his irritation clear as he crossed to the fridge and pulled out a beer, "Wish she'd just kill that bastard already," he muttered, twisting the cap off and taking a long swig, feeling the cold liquid calm his own nerves.

Johnny stopped pacing for a moment, his fingers twitching at his sides, "Hey, Fil, can I ask ye something?"

Fil raised an eyebrow, his focus still on his beer, "Aye, go on then."

Johnny rubbed the back of his neck, his nerves on full display, "Who would Mam be calling in Charming?"

Fil froze mid-sip, lowering the bottle slowly. His eyes narrowed as he turned to face his brother fully, "Charming? That's Redwood Originals territory. SAMCRO. Why?"

Johnny's throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously, eyes darting back and forth like he was still debating whether to spill it or not, "Someone rang up earlier. Some lad, real mysterious-like. Said it was important Mam call him back. He...He knew her name, Fil. Her real name."

Fil's beer bottle thudded softly as he set it down on the counter. His eyes hardened as he stared at Johnny, his expression unreadable but his tone sharp, "What'd ye tell him?"

Johnny bristled, offended at the accusation, "Nothing!" he snapped, the offense clear in his tone. "Told him there was nobody here by that name."

Fil nodded, though his face remained tight with tension, "Good. He leave a number?"

Johnny hesitated for a second, then pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, "Yeah. Here." He handed it over, his fingers trembling slightly as Fil took it from him.

Fil unfolded the scrap and scanned the number written in neat, careful digits. The sense of something bigger, something dangerous, hung in the air like smoke, "I'll run it by her," he said, tucking the paper into his own pocket. He turned to leave, but Johnny reached out and grabbed his arm, his grip tight.

"Wait." Johnny's voice trembled now, his unease clear. "Why the hell is Mam calling SAMCRO? What business does she have with a bunch of outlaws?"

Fil slowly turned back, locking eyes with his younger brother. The tension in the room thickened, the air growing heavier. Fil's jaw clenched, and he stepped forward, his eyes dark with warning.

"I got no idea," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "But Johnny, man, you best keep your nose outta Mam's business. You know how she gets." His voice softened slightly, but the warning was still sharp as a blade, "We're not her sons, we're soldiers. And the second you forget that, the second you start thinking this is some normal family--" 

Fil leaned in closer, gripping Johnny's neck roughly and pulling him close until their foreheads almost touched, "...That's when you get hurt."

Johnny's breath hitched, his eyes wide as he stared into his brother's intense gaze. He could feel the pressure of Fil's hand against his neck, not painful, but firm, reminding him of his place.

"Stay sharp. Stay clear, little brother." Fil's voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper, "She didn't raise us to be weak."

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, just as quickly as it came, the tension eased as Fil released Johnny, giving his brother's neck one last rough squeeze, before turning on his heel.

Without another word, Fil disappeared through the doorway, leaving Johnny alone in the kitchen, the sound of the front door closing echoing through the house. Johnny stood there, staring after his brother, his heart pounding in his chest.

He knew Fil was right. Their mother didn't deal in affection. She dealt in power, control, and secrets. And whatever business she had with SAMCRO, it was bound to be more dangerous than any of them could imagine.

***

The high gates of the estate closed behind Loraine with a low, ominous hum. Her fortress, a place impenetrable by anyone but those who knew how to navigate its labyrinth of security measures, stood tall in the moonlight, casting long shadows across the expansive grounds. Cameras followed her as she strode up the stone steps, the sound of her heels echoing through the otherwise silent night. She moved with purpose, her sharp eyes scanning her surroundings out of habit, though she had no real concern. This was her domain. Nothing happened here without her knowledge or consent. 

The large double doors of the mansion swung open with a quiet creak as she entered, her heels clicking on the marble floors as she made her way inside. She tossed her keys onto a nearby table and began to unbutton her coat, shedding the day's troubles along with it. Her mind was already shifting gears; there were matters to handle, calls to make, plans to solidify.

She entered the lounge, flicking on the soft light as she pulled off her heels and dumped her bag unceremoniously on the couch. As she moved further into the room, the presence of another person made themself known.

It wasn't a feeling of alarm, Loraine was far too composed for that. No, it was simply the awareness of something slightly out of place.

Sitting in the shadows, nearly blending into the dim corner of the room, was her eldest son, Filip. His posture was relaxed, his arms casually resting on the sides of the chair, but there was a tension in the air between them.

Without so much as a startle, she regarded him with an unimpressed, bored expression, "Filip," she said, her voice cutting through the silence. "To what do I owe this uninvited surprise?" Loraine sounded less than impressed. 

Fil stood up from the chair, his movements calm and deliberate. In the soft glow of the lamp, his face was shadowed, but the intensity of his gaze was unmistakable. He didn't bother with small talk. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper, holding it out for her.

"Samcro," he said, the weight of the word heavy in the room. "Waiting for you to call them back."

Loraine raised a single eyebrow, taking the paper with a measured grace. Her fingers brushed over it briefly, before her sharp eyes lifted to meet her son's, "You messing in my business now?" Her tone darkened, a quiet threat lacing each word.

Fil met her intensity with equal force, his posture unwavering, "They called you Loraine," he shot back, the name slipping from his tongue like a weapon, loaded with meaning. "Now why would they do that, Angelique?" he asked, putting emphasis on the name. 

At the sound of Fil speaking her with so much sass and without permission caused a chill to settle over her. The weight of her silence was immediate, and her eyes flash with a mixture of anger and offense. Her name isn't just a word - it's a symbol of her identity, one she had to rebuild after tearing herself away from the wreckage of her past. It represented the power and control she'd fought so hard to maintain. To hear it spoken so casually, especially by her own son, felt like an invasion of that carefully guarded boundary.

Her posture stiffened as she narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms in a slow, deliberate motion, "That name," she said, her voice cold but steady. "Is not just a word you can throw around. It's earned, not borrowed. I didn't go through hell just for you to toss it out like it means nothing." Her gaze sharpened, "You don't get to use it until you understand what it cost me. Until then, show some respect." She stepped closer to him, her voice low and dangerous, "And know," she paused, her eyes narrowing. "My business is my business. Now, I suggest you go home." The warning was clear, the threat undeniable.

Fil chuckled darkly, the sound more a provocation than anything else, "Does it have anything to do with that girl you were looking for? I know Cammy Hayes took her, and I know she's connected to Samcro, so how are you connected to her? And why were you looking for her in the first place?" 

Loraine moved before he even had time to react.

In an instant, she lunged forward, slamming him hard against the wall. Fil grunted in surprise, the force of the impact stealing his breath. Before he could recover, Loraine had pulled out the gun from the holster on her thigh, pressing the cold barrel beneath his chin with ruthless precision. The pressure of it forced him to still, his breath catching as he stared into the cold, calculating eyes of his mother.

"Now, you seem to have not heard me," she said, her voice chillingly calm, her hand steady as a rock. "So, let me try that again. This matter does not concern you."

The silence that followed was deafening. The weight of her words hung in the air like a storm about to break.

"Now," she continued, her voice steady but laced with steel, "Go home, before I have to remind you who's in charge here. Don't force my hand, boy." She pressed the gun a little harder under his chin for emphasis, her eyes never wavering, "Get out of my house, before I'm forced to pull the trigger."

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, Loraine stepped back, releasing him. Fil straightened up, tension still rippling through his body, but he made no sudden movements. The message had been received - Loud and clear.

He turned toward the door, his footsteps deliberate, controlled. But just as he was about to leave, her voice stopped him dead in his tracks. 

"And tell your brother to never answer my calls again," Loraine added, her tone as icy as ever.

Fil paused, his jaw tightening in concern for his brother, but he didn't look back, "Yes, Mam," he muttered, his voice barely audible, before stepping out into the night.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Loraine standing alone in the dimly lit room. Her hand lowered the gun back to its holster, her breath steadying as the silence settled once again. But the darkness in her eyes remained, her mind already spinning with what had to be done next.

***

Clay and Jax pulled up to the modest house where Juice had been holed up since the incident with the Calaveras. The air was thick with tension, the kind that made the hair on the back of Jax's neck stand up. He glanced over at Clay, who was already eyeing the surroundings with a wary expression.

"Let's see how he's holding up," Clay said, turning off his engine, as they both dismounted their bikes, the gravel crunching beneath their boots.

As they approached the front door, Jax felt a sense of dread settle in his stomach. The last time they'd seen Juice, he had been battered and bruised, but still fighting to hold onto whatever dignity he had left. Jax hoped this visit would be different. He rapped his knuckles against the door, a rhythmic knock that echoed through the stillness.

"Juice! It's us," Jax called out, trying to keep his tone casual. "Open up."

A moment later, the door creaked open, revealing Juice, his face pale and drawn, a stark contrast to the vibrant personality he usually projected. His eyes were rimmed with fatigue, and he seemed to shrink under their gaze.

"Hey, guys," Juice said, forcing a weak smile. "What's up?"

"Thought we'd check on you," Clay replied, stepping inside. Jax followed, taking in the dishevelled state of the living room; empty beer cans littered the coffee table, and the faint smell of stale food hung in the air.

"Nice place you got here," Jax said dryly, gesturing to the mess.

Juice shrugged, a hint of embarrassment flickering across his face, "I've been...busy." He glanced around as if realising how it all looked. "You know, looking for Letty." 

Clay moved to the couch and sank into it, exhaling heavily, "You need to take care of yourself, Juice. You can't let this get to you."

"Get to me?!" Juice snapped, a tremor in his voice. "The woman I love is missing, so I'm sorry if I don't feel like cleaning!"

Before Clay could respond, Jax's phone buzzed in his pocket, the sudden vibration cutting through the tension in the room. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen, and felt a rush of urgency wash over him.

"It's a Belfast number," Jax said, his heart racing. "Loraine."

Juice's eyes narrowed, his head, snapping to Jax's direction, "Letty!"

"Looks like it's showtime," Clay said, pushing himself to his feet. 

***

The steady hum of medical equipment filled Gemma's hospital room. Outside, the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the floor, but inside the room, the looming darkness of the past felt even heavier.

Gemma sat up on her bed, holding her phone to her ear, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her fingers tapped anxiously against her knee as she waited for the familiar voice on the other end, "I got your message," she said, her voice tight, guarded.

Across the ocean, in a dimly lit room that was more like a fortress than a home, Loraine sat at her dresser, the phone pressed to her ear. In her hand, she clutched an ultrasound photo of Letty, the edges worn from years of handling. Her cold and calculating eyes softened for just a brief moment as she looked at the image, but her voice remained as sharp as ever, "Never call this line again," she warned, her tone dark and almost threatening. "Understand?"

Gemma's grip tightened around the phone, but she knew better than to challenge her, "Okay."

As the conversation unfolded, Johnny, Loraine's youngest son, was walking down the hallway of his mother's estate. He had forgotten his phone and had come back to retrieve it, but as he passed by the bathroom, he overheard voices, a low murmur, one that piqued his curiosity. Easing closer to the door, he decided to eavesdrop, something he had learned to do well in his childhood, growing up under Loraine's shadow.

"Was that little Jackson who called earlier?" Loraine asked, her voice softened, a strange and unexpected warmth in her tone. Johnny froze. He had never heard his mother speak with such...affection before. It caught him off guard, leaving him uncertain whether to keep listening or walk away.

But as quickly as the warmth appeared, it vanished. Loraine's voice turned cold and stoic once more, "Guess he's not so little after all, eh? Bet he's gunning for president."

On the other end, Gemma leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. She knew what Loraine was doing, playing mind games, but Gemma didn't have time for that. Letty was missing, and she needed answers.

"So, Letty?" Gemma pressed, her tone sharp and insistent.

Loraine paused for a moment, her gaze fixed on the ultrasound photo in her hand. Her fingers brushed over the image, lingering on the faint outline of Letty's form from all those years ago.

"Aye, Letty," Loraine said, her voice quiet but firm.

"How can I be sure this is you and not some cruel, twisted joke?" Gemma demanded, her patience wearing thin.

There was a long, loaded silence on the other end before Loraine spoke again, her words slower now, more deliberate, "Last conversation we had, ye told me my situation could end one of two ways. 'Mummy moved away,' or 'Mummy passed away.' I went with the latter."

Gemma exhaled - it really was Loraine - She really was alive - She wasn't hallucinating. She glanced over at Clay, who stood by her side, his jaw clenched, every muscle in his body taut with barely contained rage. She gave him a quick nod in confirmation. 

"It's her," Gemma whispered, the weight of the revelation sinking in.

Without warning, Clay ripped the phone from Gemma's hand, his anger boiling over as he pressed the phone to his ear, "Where is she?" he demanded, his voice a low growl.

Loraine's voice remained as cold as ever, unflinching in the face of his fury, "Ye think if I knew that, I'd be callin'?" she shot back, her Irish lilt cutting through the tension. "Look, I don't know where she is, but I've got a pretty good idea who does."

Clay's throat tightened as he struggled to keep control, but there was a question burning at the back of his mind, one that he couldn't ignore. His voice cracked as he finally asked, "Why?"

Loraine knew exactly what he meant - How could she have walked away from her family? From her daughter? Why would she make everyone believe she was dead? 

"You were never supposed to find out about this," Loraine said, her tone devoid of any remorse, as if the secret had been nothing more than a necessary evil.

"Then why the hell did you call?" Clay growled, his grip on the phone tightening, knuckles white with fury.

A sharp inhale came through the phone, "You think I wanted to call you, Clay?" Loraine shot back, her voice harder now, tinged with bitterness. "After all these years? After everything! But Letty's in danger, and whatever happened to her - it's bigger than either of us. And whether I like it or not, you're the only ones who can help me find my daughter." 

There was a click on the other end as the line went dead. Clay stood there, frozen, the phone still pressed to his ear as the finality of her words settled in. His eyes darkened, and with a guttural yell, he hurled the phone against the wall, watching as it shattered on impact, pieces scattering across the floor.

Juice, who had been pacing the room, stopped in his tracks. His heart pounded in his chest as he turned to his stepfather, "What did she say?"

Clay looked up, his expression grim, eyes burning with anger. His voice came out hoarse, but the message was clear.

"We've got to get to Belfast."

Belfast

1983

Loraine lay face down in her bed, her sobs muffled by the pillow. The night had been a disaster. Her family had practically torn Clay apart, their disapproval of him sharp and cutting. Her father, in particular, had been relentless, his words like knives, and even her eldest brother had joined in. She had expected as much, but it hadn't made it any easier to bear.

The weight of it all pressed down on her, her body trembling as she cried into the darkness of her room. Clay, with his kutte and American accent, was everything they didn't want for her. But they didn't know him, not like she did. They didn't understand what they had together, the connection that felt like it had been forged in some other lifetime.

Just as she was slipping deeper into despair, she heard a faint tapping. At first, she thought it was her imagination, but then it came again - stones hitting the glass of her bedroom window. Loraine's sobs quieted, her heart skipping a beat. She lifted her head, wiping her tear-streaked face with the back of her hand. Slowly, she sat up and moved toward the window, peeking out through the heavy curtains.

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him. There, standing beneath the pale glow of the moon, was Clay. He was throwing pebbles at her window, a crooked smile on his face. The sight of him made her heart soar, and for a moment, she forgot all about the disastrous dinner. She quickly unlatched the window, pushing it open with trembling hands.

"Clay!" she whispered down to him, her voice shaky but filled with relief.

"Come down, baby," he called back, his voice low but full of warmth. "Let's get outta here."

Loraine glanced back toward her bedroom door, half-expecting her father to burst in any second, but the house was quiet. She nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew the consequences if she got caught, but in that moment, none of it mattered. All she wanted was to be with Clay.

Without hesitation, she climbed out the window, gripping the familiar branches of the large tree outside her room. She had snuck out this way before back when she was younger, sneaking off with her sister to escape their father's temper. But this time was different. This time she was sneaking away to be with the man she loved. 

When her feet touched the ground, she was breathless, her body tingling with excitement and nerves. Clay was waiting for her with open arms, and the second she was close enough, he pulled her into a tight embrace. They stood there for a moment, their bodies pressed together, the cool night air swirling around them.

"Come on," Clay whispered, his lips brushing her ear. "Let's go."

They ran through the streets, giggling like school children, the thrill of sneaking away making everything feel more intense, more real. The night was alive around them, the stars twinkling above as they made their way to the park. The same park where they had shared their first kiss, the same park where they had made love for the first time on that old, creaky bench.

When they finally reached the bench, they both collapsed onto it, out of breath but grinning from ear to ear. Loraine leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder as they caught their breath.

"Tonight was awful," she said softly, the memory of her family's harsh words creeping back into her mind. "They hate ye."

Clay chuckled, but there was an edge to it, "Yeah, I picked up on that."

Loraine lifted her head to look at him, her heart aching, "I'm sorry. I didn't think it would be that bad."

Clay shook his head, cupping her face in his hands, "It doesn't matter. None of that matters to me, baby. You matter. That's it."

His words sent a warmth through her, and before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "I love you!" 

Clay froze, his blue eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, he just stared at her, his hands still cradling her face. Then, a slow smile spread across his lips, and his eyes softened, "I love you too," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Loraine felt her heart swell at his confession, and before she could speak again, he leaned in and kissed her. It was slow and deep, filled with all the things they hadn't said yet, all the things they wanted for their future together. 

When they finally pulled apart, Clay's eyes were searching hers, filled with a kind of urgency she hadn't seen before.

"Run away with me," he said, his voice low and intense. "Come to Charming. We'll get married, have a family...the life we've both always wanted. We don't need anyone else. Just you and me, baby."

Loraine's heart leapt at the thought. The idea of escaping this life, leaving behind her father, all the pain and anger - it was everything she wanted. And Clay was offering it to her. A fresh start. Freedom. Love.

But then, reality came crashing back in. Her mother. Her little sister. She couldn't leave them. Not yet.

"I want to, Clay," she said, her voice breaking as tears welled up in her eyes. "I do. But I can't leave. Not now. My mother...her health's getting worse. And my sister, she's just a kid. I don't know what will happen to her if I leave her with my father. My brother will sit back and do nothing about my dad's cruel, vile behaviour. They're both...bastards, Clay." 

Clay's face fell, but he nodded, understanding flickering in his eyes, "Your old man hit you again, didn't he?"

Loraine didn't answer, but the bruise under her eye was enough. Clay clenched his jaw, anger flaring up inside him, but he swallowed it down. He wasn't going to make this about that.

"I get it, darlin'," he said softly, his hand reaching out to take hers. "But when you're ready...when you can, I'll be back in Charming waiting for. You understand me? Come home to me, and we'll build our life together. Just you and me, Lori, that's all we need." 

Loraine nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks as she leaned into him again, "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as he held her close. 

They sat there in the quiet park, holding onto each other, dreaming of a future that, for now, had to stay just out of reach. But one day, they would make it real. One day, they would have everything. Together.

The kitchen was dimly lit, with shadows playing across the counters as Loraine entered, her heels clicking softly against the tile floor. She barely acknowledged the figure sitting at the dining table - Johnny, whose smug expression was impossible to miss. She moved to the fridge without a word, pulling out a bottle of wine, the cool glass chilling her fingers as she poured herself a drink.

Johnny leaned forward, elbows resting on the table as his grin widened, "How was your phone call?"

Loraine's hand froze mid-pour, her narrowed eyes cutting over to her son. Her expression was hard, unreadable, but Johnny could feel the storm brewing beneath the surface, "What did you hear?" she asked, her voice low, cold.

Johnny raised an eyebrow, unbothered by her tone, "You were talking about your daughter. Do I have a sister, Mam? Is she the girl you're looking for?"

For a moment, the room was deadly silent. The tension hung thick in the air, and Johnny could see the subtle shift in Loraine's face. Her expression darkened, shadows creeping over her sharp features, "You already know too much," she said, her voice clipped, and without another glance at him, she turned to leave the room, the glass of wine forgotten on the counter.

But Johnny wasn't finished. He slammed his hand down on the table, the sound reverberating through the kitchen, "Damn it, Mam. Enough lies! Just tell me the truth for once in your life. Me and Johnny deserve to know if we have a sister!"

In the blink of an eye, Loraine was in front of him, moving faster than he had anticipated. Her palm struck his face with such force that his head whipped to the side, the sting burning across his cheek. The air between them crackled with tension as she stood over him, her eyes blazing with fury, an accusing finger inches from his face, "You dare speak to me like that?" she hissed, her voice deadly calm, but her eyes held a murderous gleam.

Johnny, though, wasn't stupid. His bravado crumbled under her gaze, and he lowered his head, the sting of her slap still fresh. His voice, now barely audible, was thick with regret, "I'm sorry."

Loraine stared at him for a long moment, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. The fire in her eyes dimmed slightly, though her posture remained rigid. She sighed, rubbing her temple, her features softening ever-so-slightly. 

Loraine had always been harder on Johnny than Fil. Being the youngest, she believed he had to be tougher, more resilient - prepared for the cruelty of the world. She rarely allowed herself to show her soft spot for him, convinced that nurturing that side of him would only make him weak. She didn't want him to suffer like she had, so instead of affection, she gave him lessons in survival: cold, calculated, and direct.

But on rare moments, when no one was looking, her softness peeked through. Sometimes it was in the way she quietly checked on him, a fleeting glance filled with concern as he walked out the door, or how her hand would briefly linger on his shoulder during an embrace - longer than necessary. 

Once, after a long day, Johnny had fallen asleep on her couch, and instead of waking him and kicking him like she normally would, Loraine covered him with a blanket, her fingers brushing his hair back with a tenderness she never let herself fully show. In those brief moments, her fierce mask slipped, revealing the part of her that still saw her baby boy, no matter how strong or tough she wanted him to become.

"I had a life before you and Filip came along," she said, her voice quieter but still firm. "People from that part of my life will be coming out here soon. And trust me when I say this, you'll have more truth than you can handle."

Johnny's gaze lifted, searching his mother's face, but Loraine gave him no further explanation as she turned on her heel, her words hanging heavy in the air like a warning. As she reached the doorway, she paused, glancing over her shoulder one last time, "Lock the door on your way out," she added, her tone final.

Without waiting for a response, Loraine disappeared down the hall, her figure swallowed by the shadows. Johnny remained at the table, his cheek still stinging, his mind racing with questions. But one thing was clear: whatever truth was coming, it was bigger than anything he could have ever imagined.

***

The hospital room was dim, the hum of machines filling the quiet space as Gemma lay asleep, clutching the crumpled photograph of Letty in her hand. Her grip was tight, fingers curled protectively around the image, as though it were her lifeline. The photo, a frozen moment of Letty being dragged through a train station by Cameron Hayes, haunted her even in her sleep.

The door creaked open, and Agent Stahl slipped into the room like a shadow. Her sharp eyes immediately locked onto the photograph in Gemma's hand. A grin tugged at her lips as she tiptoed closer. She gingerly pried the photo from Gemma's grasp, examining it under the sterile hospital lights. Her eyes widened slightly at the discovery.

Gemma stirred, blinking awake. Her gaze fell immediately on Stahl, her eyes narrowing as she pushed herself up into a seated position, "What are you doing?" Her voice was raspy, but there was an edge of anger to it.

Stahl barely looked at her, still holding the photo between her fingers, "You guys are good," she remarked, an amused smile creeping onto her face. "Where is this from? Where is your daughter, Gemma?"

Gemma clenched her jaw, her eyes filled with defiance, "I don't know."

Stahl tossed the photograph back to her like it was nothing, "You may want to learn to be more cooperative. But oh, well, doesn't affect me. I'm not exactly losing sleep over your darling princess' disappearance. I couldn't care less if that little bitch rots in whatever hellhole she's found herself in." She paused, leaning in as she whispered, "She's not worth the trouble."

Before Gemma could react, Clay's booming voice rang out from the hallway, "Not gonna let your gash boss give my old lady a heart attack. I'm going in!" 

Stahl's smirked as she turned to the door, walking over casually as if the confrontation had been expected. Opening it, she gestured for Jax, Juice and Clay to enter, "Come on in, gentlemen," she said with her usual smug tone. "You should hear this as well." She closed the door behind them, her eyes gleaming as she turned back to face the family.

"The U.S. Attorney has refused to honour the deal," Stahl announced, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Her smirk widened as she watched the colour drain from Gemma's face, "Says he has no proof that you were actually going to turn yourself in."

"You lying piece of shit," Clay snarled, his eyes burning with fury. His hands balled into fists as he took a threatening step toward her.

Stahl raised her hands in mock surrender, "Hey, hey, hey, don't shoot the messenger." She waved him off and returned her attention to Gemma, her tone softening into false sympathy, "Between you and me, I think he's going to press you real hard for intel on the club. Which means you either give up your boys, or your boys give up you."

Gemma's face crumpled, the weight of the threat sinking in.

"Have a nice life," Stahl added with a mocking tilt of her head, before turning on her heel and striding toward the door.

Clay followed close behind her, slamming the door shut with a thunderous crash as she left. He returned to Gemma's side just as her composure broke. A sob tore from her chest, and Clay immediately pulled her into his arms, his voice low and comforting as he held her. His heart ached seeing his old lady fall apart like this, but he stayed strong for her, holding her tight.

Jax stood frozen for a moment, his face hardened, barely able to keep himself together as his mother broke down in front of him. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white with frustration. He couldn't take it - couldn't watch her fall apart like this. Without a word, he stormed out of the room, chasing after Stahl.

Clay noticing, turned to Juice, "Watch his back." 

Juice nodded, determination flashing in his eyes, "Absolutely," he said, before racing off after Jax. 

By the time Jax reached the parking lot, Stahl was already pulling away in her car. The engine roared as her tires squealed against the asphalt, speeding off. Jax cursed under his breath, his pulse racing, but as she drove away, he caught a glimpse of her license plate.

His eyes narrowed as he quickly scribbled down the number on a scrap of paper.

Juice strolled up next to him, taking in the scene, "Guess they really cut her down, huh? No more fancy fed car. She's stuck driving her own piece of shit now," he said, watching Stahl drive off down the road out of view. 

Jax didn't reply right away, just handed Juice the paper with the license plate number scribbled down on it, "I need you to get me an address."

Juice took the paper, eyebrows knitting together in concern, "What are you gonna do, Jax?" he asked, his tone soft but filled with unease.

Jax didn't give him anything, his face unreadable, "Just get me the address," he repeated, his jaw set.

Juice sighed, running a hand over his head. He knew better than to push for answers when Jax was in this kind of mood, "All right, man," he muttered, before turning to jog off, ready to get the info Jax needed.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go down.

***

The sound of rushing water filled the sterile room as Tara carefully scrubbed her hands, her mind still lingering on the intense surgery she had just assisted with. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered softly, casting a pale glow on the tiled walls. Tara's reflection in the mirror was focused, eyes steady, but a hint of exhaustion clung to her features.

As she rinsed off the last of the soap, the O.R. door swung open behind her, and a familiar voice cut through the quiet, "Well, well," Rey's voice was light, almost playful. "I heard it went well."

Tara glanced over her shoulder, spotting Rey standing confidently in the doorway. There was a smile on her face, one that didn't quite reach her eyes, "There were two other surgeons qualified to assist with that procedure," she said, her tone clipped. 

Rey took a few steps forward, her smile widening ever so slightly as she leaned casually against the counter, "Not with your skill, Tiara," she taunted. 

Tara turned off the faucet and reached for a towel, dabbing her hands dry. Her eyes flicked back to Rey, studying her for a moment, "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice steady but laced with suspicion.

Rey pushed off the counter, straightening her posture, "Doing my job," she said, her tone shifting from casual to firm. "It's part of being the new head nurse of this hospital; assigning doctors to their surgeries." 

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Tara felt a rush of unease. Rey's smile faded, her expression sharpening as she met Tara's gaze head-on. Any trace of amusement had vanished, replaced by something far more serious, "This is where you belong, Dr. Knowles."

The words weren't just a statement - they were a reminder, a subtle push to let Tara know not give up on her dreams. 

Tara's breath caught in her throat as she stood there, towel still in hand. There was something unsettling about the certainty in Rey's voice, like she knew more than she was letting on. But before Tara could respond, Rey gave her one final, knowing smile.

And then she was gone, the door swinging shut behind her with a soft click, leaving Tara standing alone in the stillness of the O.R.

***

Luke slid into the passenger seat of the black van slamming the door shut. Another member of the Army was already in the driver's seat, jabbing the key into the ignition. But as the engine sputtered and choked, Luke's patience frayed.

"It's not starting," the man exclaimed. 

"Piece of British shit," Luke hissed. "Check the battery," he ordered, motioning for him to get out. 

The driver cursed under his breath and jumped out, popping the hood to inspect the engine. That's when Jax moved. Silent, deliberate, he crept up behind the guy and swung the butt of his gun hard against the back of his head. The man crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he could even see what hit him.

Luke was fiddling with his phone when Jax yanked open his door and dragged him out of the car. The phone hit the pavement with a crack as Jax slammed Luke against the side of the car, one hand gripping his shirt while the other jammed a gun into his cheek.

"Jesus Christ, Jax!" Luke's breath came in sharp, startled gasps as he looked into Jax's cold eyes. There was no mistaking the rage brewing inside him.

"You and Jimmy lied to me." His voice was low, dangerous, as he pressed the gun harder into Luke's face.

Luke winced, but he didn't flinch. He was used to dealing with men like Jax, men who led with their fists, but even he knew there was a line between anger and desperation. And Jax was walking that line, "You're making a grave mistake."

"Who has my sister?!" His grip on Luke's shirt tightened. "Is it Jimmy? Why is he doing this?!"

Luke's lips thinned into a hard line as he looked up at Jax, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. He hesitated before answering, his voice low, almost warning, "You can't trust her, lad."

Jax's eyes narrowed, confusion crossing his face, "Who?"

Luke swallowed, his tone grim as he locked eyes with Jax, "Loraine. That's your contact, isn't it? She's not the woman you remember, Jax."

Jax's frown deepened, the words stirring something unsettling inside him. He didn't want to believe it, but Luke's expression told him this was more than just another scheme, "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Luke sighed, his face darkening, "The Loraine you remember, the woman who used to babysit you? The one who played hide and seek with you and told you bed stories? She's gone. She died a long time ago."

Jax's face hardened, but he stayed quiet, waiting for Luke to continue, "She's Angelique Noir now. She's been running things in Belfast for years. Built herself an empire. You don't get that kind of power without getting your hands dirty. And trust me, her hands are bloody."

Jax's jaw clenched at the mention of her name, the name that sounded so foreign and detached from the woman he once knew, "I trust her a hell of a lot more than I trust you and Jimmy."

Luke's eyes flashed with urgency as he shook his head sharply, "That's a mistake." His voice turned sharp. "Whatever image you've got in your head of the kind, angelic woman who used to work in soup kitchens and help the less privileged, you need to let that go. The Loraine you knew wouldn't recognize the woman she's become. You can't trust her, Jax. Not the way you think you can."

Jax ran a hand through his hair, frustration clawing at his chest. He didn't want to believe it - couldn't believe it. But the thought of Loraine, the only person who might have the answers he needed, betraying him was a bitter pill to swallow, "She's got answers I need. She's the one who can help me find Letty." He pressed the gun harder into Luke's face, his voice almost a growl.

Luke stared back at him, unflinching, "Maybe. But at what cost? Loraine's not some grieving mother looking for help. She's...strategic. Calculating. Everything she does is for her own gain. If she's helping you, it's because there's something in it for her."

Jax's chest tightened. The idea of Loraine using him made his blood boil, but Luke wasn't wrong. Loraine, or Angelique, as she called herself now, had risen to power for a reason. And people like that didn't play nice, "You think she's playing me?"

Luke's expression hardened, his voice flat and certain, "Oh, she already is, mate." His eyes bore into Jax's, no trace of doubt in them, "She's got secrets, Jax. And I don't mean little ones. If you go to Belfast, you need to be ready for the fact that she's not going to tell you everything."

Jax's head spun with Luke's words. As much as he hated to admit it, everything Luke was saying lined up. Loraine had faked her death. Abandoned Letty. Disappeared for over twenty years. The woman he knew would never of done that. He remembered how excited she was to be a mother. How much she loved Letty even from inside the womb. But if Luke was telling the truth, she was no longer the loving, nurturing mother she once was, she was now a cold-hearted matriarch, who couldn't be trusted. But despite it all, he knew she was the best shot of finding Letty. 

He took a deep breath, his mind racing. Luke's words made sense - too much sense - and that pissed him off even more, "Thanks for the heads up." His voice was flat, laced with cold intent as his grip on Luke tightened, his face darkening with cruel intent. 

Luke's eyes widened, sensing the shift, "Jax, no!"

But Jax's gaze was already set, his decision made.

***

Loraine sat in an eery storage shed in the middle of Belfast, the rain pattering against the hard iron walls that surrounded her, creating a haunting symphony that matched the turmoil in her mind. The space was cluttered with boxes, remnants of a life she had once known, but now they only served as a reminder of her past. Several photographs were stuck to the walls, capturing fleeting moments of happiness that felt like a distant memory.

She stood up, her gaze fixated on a particular picture; a candid shot of her daughter, Letty, laughing with friends at her eighteenth birthday party in Charming. In the background, the unmistakable leather cuts of Samcro members adorned with patches of their allegiance loomed like dark specters, reminders of the world she tried to save her baby girl from. 

Another photo caught her eye: a group shot of the club, and front and centre was Clay Morrow, the man she married all those years ago. They were all smiling, their arms wrapped around each other in camaraderie, their laughter seemingly echoing in her mind. Her heart clenched, a mix of anger and resentment rising within her.

"Look at you," she muttered bitterly, stepping closer to the wall, her eyes narrowed on the president. "All proud and untouchable, but at what cost?" Her voice was laced with venom, each word dripping with disdain. She felt a wave of nausea as memories flooded back; scenes of betrayal, lies, and the suffering he had caused her. 

As she continued to scan the photographs, her eyes fell on an old image of John Teller standing proudly with his arm around her. His easy smile had always made her feel cherished and valued, but his legacy had become a bittersweet reminder of everything that had changed.

"Oh, my darling Loraine, you are so much better than this life. So much better than what this club is becoming," she recalled him saying during late-night conversations in the garage. John's moral compass had always been steadfast, guiding her even when shadows loomed. She remembered the intensity in his eyes when he spoke of the club's changing values and the growing darkness he sensed, particularly around Clay.

Her mind flickered back to a particular memory, where he had become increasingly suspicious of Clay's ambitions, the way he had warned her that Clay's loyalty to the club might come at a terrible price, "He's not who you think he is," John had said. Loraine hadn't wanted to believe him back then, but now those words haunted her.

As she stepped back from the wall, the weight of the last conversation she had with JT pressed heavily on her chest. Her fingers brushed against a crumpled piece of paper on a nearby table, a letter John had written to her shortly before his death. 

8 October, 1993

Dearest Loraine,

I hope this letter finds you in good health, darling. I write this with a heavy heart and a mind clouded with worry. There's a darkness hanging over the club, and I fear it's consuming more than just my brothers. With every passing day, I find myself questioning the very principles we stood for; honour, loyalty, and brotherhood. Those ideals are slipping through our fingers like sand, and I fear for what lies ahead.

After your death, what we feared would happen has come to pass. Clay's ambitions have grown dangerously unchecked, and I've seen him change in ways that disturb me. He's driven by a thirst for power that I no longer recognise. He barely even looks his own daughter in the eye most days. And I can't shake the feeling that he's willing to sacrifice anyone and anything to achieve his goals, including Letty. But I also worry that Jax may unwittingly find himself swept up in that tide as well. He has always looked up to me, but I fear he will only see the allure of the club's lifestyle without understanding the cost it carries. My hope is that he can rise above my mistakes and forge a path that doesn't lead to darkness.

I want you to know how much I love you and how deeply I care about your safety. You must stay hidden, Loraine. The world we've created is no place for you. If Clay discovers your whereabouts or the truth about your past, I can't bear to think of what he might do. Please, for your own sake, never reveal yourself. I wish I could promise you that everything will be alright, but I fear I've opened Pandora's box, and I can no longer control the chaos that's unfolding.

I think of Letty often, and my heart aches for the little girl she's growing into. Filip and Gemma have done so well to raise such a sweet, kind-hearted soul, who deserves so much more than this life, and I worry for her future. I promised you that I would watch over her, and I intend to keep that promise. But if anything were to happen to me, I can confidently say, she will be protected at all costs. Filip has come to love her like his own, and would die before he let anyone lay a hand on her. And there is no doubt in my mind, Gemma would do the same. And I know you will be there to guide her from the shadows as you always have, and teach her the strength she will need to navigate the world. But know this, your baby is loved and cherished in more ways than you could of ever imagined. 

Loraine, the darkness is closing in on me, and I can feel the weight of everything I've ever done pressing down on me. But I needed to write this letter, so you know how much you mean to me and how I will always cherish our time together. Remember our laughter, our dreams, and the hope we had for a brighter future. Hold onto that hope and keep it alive in your heart for. 

Take care of yourself and stay vigilant. I fear that my days are numbered, and I can't bear to think of you in harm's way.

Your good friend, 

John

The memories swirled like a storm inside her. She crumpled the letter in her fist, anger flooding her veins. Clay Morrow would never take anything else from her again. 

With a determined glint in her eye, she began tearing down the photographs, ripping them from the wall and throwing them into a pile on the floor. Each ripped picture was a release, a declaration of her hatred for the club and everything it represented. The laughter of Samcro was silenced, and in its place, the echoes of her own voice filled the void.

"I'll expose your secrets," she vowed, standing amid the remnants of her past. "I'll show you how strong I am." The darkness within her was a weapon, and she would wield it with ferocity. Angelique Noir was no victim. She had power and no one dare cross her, or they wouldn't live to tell the tale. 

***

Jax pulled up to Stahl's house, the engine of the truck rumbling to a stop. His phone in hand, he glanced down at the screen, the text he received from Juice earlier open. 

Text from Juice: 

[10:47 PM]

Yo, Jax. Got that bitch's address. It's 5421 Waverly Rd, outskirts of town.

Man, I gotta ask...you sure about this? I know what she's done, but going after Stahl like this...it's not gonna end clean. Just tell me you've thought this through. Whatever you're planning, I'm with you, but I don't want you doin' something you can't come back from.

Be careful, brother.

The evening air was thick with tension as Jax approached the door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Moments later, the door swung open, revealing Stahl in her robe, her eyes wide with alarm and a gun gripped tightly in her hand.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded, her voice a mixture of shock and fear. 

Jax raised his hands, palms facing her, showing he posed no threat, "Put the gun away."

Stahl furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, "How did you get my address?"

"ATF took away your shiny black sedan, making you drive your own car," Jax replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

"Juice is hacking DMV now?" Stahl shot back, her smirk returning as Jax nodded. "Guess he needs to keep busy, seeing as his little girlfriend isn't around to keep him entertained." She leaned in slightly, a suggestive glint in her eyes, "It's too bad, I bet she was all sorts of fun in the bedroom."

"Jealous?" Jax smirked, enjoying the banter, if only for a moment.

But the amusement faded from Stahl's face as she stepped outside, looking around nervously. She closed the door behind her, still gripping her weapon, "What do you want?"

"A deal."

Suddenly, the door burst open again, and Agent Tyler appeared in the doorway, her expression less than pleased as she stood there in her own sleepwear, "What the hell is he doing here?" she demanded, her eyes darting suspiciously between Jax and Stahl.

"Hey, just go back to bed, okay?" Stahl replied, annoyance creeping into her tone.

"He shouldn't be here, June!" Tyler insisted, her voice rising with concern.

"Why don't you shout it a little louder?" Stahl shot back, exasperated. "Now, I'm handling it. Please go back to bed."

With a reluctant nod, Tyler hesitated, but finally retreated back inside, closing the door behind her. Stahl turned her full attention to Jax, the playful air from before gone.

"Bringing your work home with you, huh?" Jax said, amused as he pulled out a cigarette, lighting it. He offered one to her, but she waved it off.

"I never seem to learn," she replied, her voice now all business. "You got five minutes."

Jax took a drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke swirl between them before continuing, "Your career's taken a huge hit. Booted off the Irish. Stripped of your team. We both know you're looking at a transfer to some left-for-dead field office."

"This is what you came here to tell me?" Stahl asked, her tone sharp.

"Not only can I give you your career back," Jax said, his voice lowering, "I can make you an ATF legend. The agent who single-handedly broke the real IRA NorCal terrorist threat. I'll hand-deliver Jimmy O'Phelan. Give you the names of his real IRA contacts. And my sworn statement. Everything you need to know about the gun-running."

"And what do you want?" she countered, arms crossed.

"My sister. My mother. And my club."

Stahl's eyebrows rose, scepticism evident on her face, "And how am I supposed to deliver those things, hmm...?"

"No witness from Zobelle's church party is gonna testify. That just leaves the federal automatic weapons charges." 

"With all the priors you guys have, the U.S. Attorney will never drop 'em," she said dismissively.

"We just want them reduced. Short time. MC's got a bail hearing tomorrow. You need to slow that down. We need a couple of weeks," Jax pressed, urgency creeping into his tone.

"So you can get to Belfast. For Jimmy. And I'm guessing that's where Letty is. Even if I could push the bail hearing, you guys still can't leave the country," Stahl shot back.

"That's my problem. We just can't have the fugitive heat," he replied, frustration evident.

"And your mother?" Stahl pressed.

"Your lie set this whole nightmare in motion. I don't give a shit what you have to do. Recant your statement. Tell some new lies. Find a scapegoat. You just set that truth straight," Jax demanded, his intensity palpable.

"Immunity is a complicated problem--" 

"Immunity is bullshit! Too many strings. I want a statement signed by you clearing her of both kills," Jax interrupted, his eyes locking onto hers.

Stahl chuckled, the amusement returning but tempered with doubt, "And I'm supposed to just trust you, huh? Just take your word on this deal of a lifetime? The guy who wants me dead?"

"Hey, my club finds out, I'm dead. My risk is just as great," Jax insisted.

Stahl narrowed her eyes, scepticism still hanging in the air, "And what makes you think that I would actually believe that the prince would turn rat?"

Jax met her gaze, unyielding, as the weight of their precarious alliance hung heavily between them.

Jax stepped away from Stahl, leading her toward the rear of the van he pulled up in, opening the back doors, revealing a sight that would send any sane person into a panic: Luke Moran, Jimmy O'Phelan's right-hand man, was tied up, surrounded by a haphazard collection of illegal weapons.

"Luke Moran," Jax said, his tone flat. "Jimmy's number two. Enough illegal weapons to trip Homeland Security?" 

Stahl's eyes widened in shock as she peered into the van, "More than enough," she whispered, her surprise momentarily outweighing her usual bravado.

"Yeah," Jax continued, his voice steady. "This asshole has to disappear. He can't reach out. No lawyers. Or this all goes away for both of us."

"Terrrorists don't get phone calls," Stahl replied, her eyes narrowing as she processed the situation.

"I'll bring him back to Hainey's Pub, put him and the guns in his SUV," Jax said, confidence bleeding into his voice.

Stahl smirked, her professional demeanour slowly returning, "You've got my attention, Teller." 

But Jax noticed the way she crossed her arms - her scepticism still lingered, a barrier he needed to break. 

"You're gonna need to give me more than that. Jimmy O's a big fish, but I know there's more swimming beneath the surface." Her gaze hardened, and he could feel the scrutiny behind it, "And I know you know it too," she said, sending him a knowing look. 

Jax's pulse quickened, feeling the weight of her gaze. He couldn't risk losing this opportunity. Stahl was his only shot at clearing his club's name and buying time to find Letty. He had to play this right, "Angelique Noir," he said, letting the name hang in the air like a loaded gun.

Stahl's smirk faltered for a split second, her surprise flickering in her eyes before she quickly masked it, "How do you know that name?" she whispered, leaning in closer, intrigued. 

Jax swallowed hard but held her gaze, determination coursing through him, "I know more than you think. Loraine Morrow. My mother's best friend. The mother my sister never got to meet. Our president's old lady. The woman who used to babysit me when I was a kid."

Stahl's expression shifted, her mask of indifference slipping further, "Angelique Noir aka Loraine Morrow, disappeared twenty years ago after betraying the feds. She made a deal, sold out her father, the leader and founder of the True IRA, to save herself. Then she went underground." Frustration bled into her voice, "We've been hunting her ever since, but she's a ghost, Jax. No one's seen her in over a decade."

Jax felt the betrayal twist in his gut, the realisation that the woman he once trusted, the one he thought might help him, was a snake in the grass, "She's not a ghost. She's in Belfast, running the show. Jimmy's not the king of that castle - Loraine is."

Stahl's interest piqued, and she straightened, her smirk returning as a glimmer of excitement sparkled in her eyes, "And you think you can get me Angelique Noir?"

"I can give you her location," Jax replied, his voice steady, though his heart raced at the thought of using Loraine as a bargaining chip. "And if you want her, I'll get you all the information you need to take her down. This is a simple trade. I deliver Jimmy and my sworn statement, you sign off on the club's gun charges, and my mum. I'm the one that's got to deliver. You got nothing to lose. It's you and me. We're all we got, June."

"Jimmy and Loraine..." Stahl trailed off, her intrigue evident. "That's a hell of a deal, Jax. And a long list of demands. But if you really can deliver Angelique Noir..."

Jax clenched his fists, knowing the gravity of what he was proposing. If Loraine was as dangerous as Luke claimed, she was a bigger threat than Jimmy ever was, "You'll get everything you need on Loraine. But if anything happens to my family, this deal is off. I'm giving you ghosts and monsters. The least you can do is fulfill my requests."

Stahl stood there, her smirk growing wider as she extended her hand to seal the deal, "Deal, Teller. But don't think I won't come for you if this goes south. Deliver me Romeo and Juliet, and your wish is my command. Fail, and I'll bury you with the rest of them."

Jax met her gaze, the weight of her words settling in the pit of his stomach. He didn't flinch as he took her hand, sealing their unholy alliance, "You'll get them both wrapped in a pretty red bow. I'll deliver them to you myself." 

As Stahl turned to leave, Jax stood there for a moment longer, his heart pounding with the weight of what he'd just set in motion. He had made a deal with the devil, and now, the real nightmare was about to begin.

If Loraine - no, Angelique - knew he was coming for her, this wouldn't just be a rescue mission for Letty. It would be a goddamn war.

And in that war, he wasn't sure who he could trust anymore.

***

A/N: 

08/10/2024 

Because it has been over twenty years since the last time Clay and Loraine (aka Angelique Noir) were together, I thought I should start using different face claims for them both to show their aging, but current Loraine will still be played by Carla Gugino and Clay is obviously still played by Ron Perlman. 

Would love all your feedback on this chapter and also for the rest of this Act as I've worked tiredly trying to make this storyline work and just really want to know all your thoughts. 

Also, anyone else digging Juice and Rey's blossoming friendship? Or is it just me? 

AESTHETICS

#LORAINE+CLAY

REY+JUICE 

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