💘( The Darkness We Let In! )✨

TWENTY SIX

[ Na Trioblóidí ]

( 🏍️💀💘👪💒🔫 )

" If I go stirring up trouble with the wrong crowd, I'm a target. They'll have my ass. And that's speaking literal. "

~ RIDDLE MONET to LYLA MONET

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TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️: Mentions of rape, adult themes, gore, murder and death will appear in this chapter.

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LETTY'S OUTFIT

CLEO'S OUTFIT 

THE MORNING AIR WAS SERENE as Letty Morrow sat beside Juice Ortiz outside the police station, her eyes fixed on the imposing doors beyond where Ethan and Polly Zobelle along with A.J. Weston were in custody. The tension in the air was heavy amongst Samcro, who gathered, each lost in their own thoughts of vengeance and justice.

Juice sat with his laptop open, trying to distract his girlfriend from the impending confrontation. Letty had described her dream home countless times - a Victorian style house with a wrap-around veranda and a white picket fence, a place she could envision a future beyond the club's tumultuous lifestyle.

As they scrolled through listings, Letty's eyebrows furrowed with uncertainty, "I don't know, Juice," she murmured, her voice tinged with doubt. "Do you really think we'll ever find it?" 

Juice glanced at her, his expression softening, "We will, baby," he assured her, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. "I promise you, I'll find you your dream home. Somewhere safe, away from all this madness."

Letty nodded, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the outline of a charming cottage on the screen, "I just...sometimes it feels like this life won't ever let us have that," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently as he lifted it up to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of it, "Hey, I'm gonna make it happen, I swear."

Letty gazed at Juice in awe, her eyes still carrying a sadness to them though, she wanted to believe his words, but their was apart of her that still had doubt, not in Juice, just the life they led. 

Before she could speak, the sound of approaching footsteps drew her attention. The members of Samcro stood alert, making their way over to Unser. 

Letty and Juice exchanged a knowing glance, their thoughts momentarily diverted from house hunting to the imminent confrontation. As they rose to join their family, Letty's heart raced with anticipation and fear, but deep within her, she tried to hold onto the flicker of hope she had, that one day, her dreams of a future where she and Juice could finally lay down roots and build a life together, far from the shadows of Samcro's violence would come true. 

"What?" Clay was the first to speak up. 

"Stahl's been locked in a room with FBI, two hours now," Unser informed them. "No idea what's going on."

"And Weston?" Letty's eyes darkened, her fists clenched to her side, making Juice link his fingers with hers, the mere touch calming her. 

"Still waiting to hear from the D.A.," he informed her, his gaze softening as he met Letty's eye. "I'm sorry," he said, before heading off back inside. 

Juice wrapped his arm around Letty's waist, turning her around to meet his gaze as he rested his forehead on hers, "You should go on back to the clubhouse. They're going to need you there."  

Letty sighed in annoyance, "We talked about this, Juice. I told you, I'm in. No backing out now. This is my fight. It's my blood." 

Juice's eyebrows knitted tightly together as he searched Letty's eyes. His normally bright eyes were shadowed, darkened with the weight of memories - memories of the last time he saw her so consumed by rage and vengeance. The memory of her crumpled, guilt-ridden after she had taken a man's life to protect a friend. It was like she was almost haunted by the act - ridden with guilt. Juice just couldn't shake the fear that this time - the cost might be even greater.

His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw tense, as if he were holding back words that might only push her further away. There was a raw vulnerability in his expression, a desperation that made his chest tighten at the thought of losing her to the darkness she was certainly teetering on the edge of. Juice's worry was palpable, not just for what she might do, but for the part of herself she might lose in the process.

He knew the fire in Letty, the fierce loyalty that made her a force to be reckoned with, but he also knew how fragile the line was between justice and revenge - how easily it could consume her, leaving behind only the guilt and self-loathing that had nearly broken her before. Juice couldn't let that happen, not again. 

"Baby--" The love and fear he felt mingled in his eyes as he pleaded with her to see reason, to remember who she was beneath the anger, and not to lose herself in the pursuit of revenge.

"Ride or die, remember?" she said, her tone heavy with frustration. 

Juice let out a deep sigh, "Ride or die, baby," he murmured, pulling her into a tight embrace and placing a kiss on the top of her head. 

Standing nearby, Opie had his arms wrapped around Cleo, holding her close, his rough hands tangling in her hair, while her forehead rested gently against his, her eyes closing as she tried to imprint this moment into her memory. 

"What happens now?" she whispered, her eyes remained close, feeling safe in this man's arms. 

"Now, you go back to the clubhouse where it's safe." 

Cleo pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, her expression a mix of defiance and worry, "I'm not leaving your side, Ope. I can look after myself. I've been doing it my entire life." 

"I know you can," Opie replied, his voice low and firm, but laced with a tenderness he reserved only for the three most important women in his life. "But I need to know you're safe. This could get ugly, and I can't do what I need to do if I'm worried about you." 

She opened her mouth to argue, but the look in his eyes stopped her. It wasn't just about her safety - it was about his sanity. He needed to know she was out of harm's way so he could focus on what was coming next. Cleo sighed, nodding slightly, her features softening, "Alright. But you come back to me. Come back to your family. Can you promise me that, Harry?" 

"I promise," he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss on her forehead, his lips brushing against her skin with a mix of desperation and devotion. He pulled back slightly, their eyes locking in a silent vow, "I'll catch you on the flip side?" he murmured, the familiar words carrying the weight of unspoken love.

Cleo's lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile, "Only if you promise to catch me," she replied, her voice just as soft but filled with a quiet strength.

Opie's grip on her tightened for a moment, sealing their vow, "Always." 

Opie lifted his head, his eyes catching sight of Half-Sack nearby, "Sack, stay with Cleo," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Half-Sack, who had been hovering nearby, nodded immediately, "Absolutely, man." 

Opie gave him a grateful nod, "Thanks, bro." 

Cleo gave Opie one last look, her heart heavy with the weight of what was about to happen. She didn't want to leave, but she knew he was right. With a final squeeze of his hand, she stepped back, allowing Half-Sack to guide her away. But as she mounted the Harley Davidson, her thoughts were with Opie, silently willing him to come back to her in one piece.

As Cleo and Half-Sack drove away, Opie watched them go, his heart torn between his duty to the club and the promise he had just made. He couldn't afford to lose focus now, not with everything that was at stake. But as the rumble of the bike faded into the distance, one thought remained clear in his mind: He would do whatever it took to make sure he caught her on the flip side.

***

Unser sat himself down beside Stahl, who had a scowl on her face as she rang her fingers together, her jaw tense with frustration and anger. 

"What the hell happened in there?" Unser asked, motioning to the office Stahl had been in with Weston and the FBI for hours. 

"The FBI is cutting Zobelle loose," she informed him, the annoyance clear in her tone. 

"Jesus Christ," Unser breathed out in disbelief. "He had a key of heroin. Copped to trafficking. This is bullshit." 

"Welcome to my life, Wayne." Was all she said, before she got to her feet and started to walk away, but Unser was quick to follow, grabbing her arm, and making her whip around. 

"Please," he said, guiding her into the empty office and closing the door behind them. 

Stahl turned to Unser, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

"Zobelle is not just dealing guns and dope," Unser informed her, pausing as he let out a deep sigh. "That scumbag had Letty Morrow beaten and gang-raped." 

Stahl's eyes widened in pure shock, "Jesus Christ," she breathed out. 

"I need something to tell the club," Unser pleaded, desperate for any type of information as to why the hell they would let that monster loose. "To tell Letty. This guy just skates away," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief, his anger evident in his tone as his eye glister with unshed tears. 

Stahl turned around, running a finger under her nose, contemplating her next words, "Ethan Zobelle..." she started to say, turning back to Unser. "Is an FBI informant." 

Unser's eyes widened in shock, "A rat?" He was not expecting that. 

Stahl hummed in confirmation, "For three years now. He can tie the dirty deeds of his organisation to the rich and mighty judges, clergymen, a few senators, as well as naming the Aryan shot-callers. He's a gold mine, and he knows it. He keeps churning a profit, while the feds fatten their case." 

"No wonder this guy struts around like King Farouk. He's untouchable." 

A smirk tugged at the corner of Stahl's lips as she stepped forward, "And the wheels of justice keep turning. Don't they?" she said with finality, before leaving the room. 

***

Letty leaned back against her Harley, needing time alone, the guys a few meters ahead, making themselves comfortable on top of or against a petrol car. Letty's posture was rigid, eyes fixed on the station. The events of the past night had left her on edge, her thoughts consumed by a relentless drive for revenge.

Lyla watched Letty from afar. The determination etched on her face, the way her fists clenched at her sides, and the fire in her eyes - Lyla recognised it all too well. It was the same darkness that had taken hold of her husband over the years.

Riddle had once been a man filled with love and light, a protector who would do anything for his family. But thirteen years in prison had changed him. It wasn't just the physical scars he carried, but the emotional and psychological ones that had slowly, insidiously, altered who he was. Prison had been a relentless crucible, forging him into something harder, something darker.

Lyla had seen the transformation up close, each visit to Riddle becoming more painful as the man she loved slipped further away. At first, it was subtle - an edge to his voice, a shadow in his gaze. But as the years passed, those shadows deepened, turning his once warm and caring eyes into cold, hardened orbs. He had been through countless battles inside those walls - fights for survival, stabbings, betrayals. Each one had stripped away another layer of the man he had been, replacing it with a void that Lyla scarcely recognised.

Lyla approached Letty cautiously. Hearing what Letty had been through had struck a chord, even though she didn't know her all too well, she would never wish that on any woman or anyone for that matter, it made her feel compelled to reach out.

"Hey," Lyla said, her voice soft but carrying a note of concern, stopping a few feet away. 

Letty glanced over, her expression unreadable, "Hey?" Her eyebrows were furrowed in slight confusion - they weren't exactly friends. 

Lyla took a deep breath, "I wanted to check in, see how you were doing?" 

Letty's lips twisted into a wry smile, though there was no warmth in it, "You heard?" she said, scoffing in sarcastic amusement. "Of course you did. I guess everyone knows now, huh? 

Lyla lowered her head, avoiding Letty's sharp gaze as she nodded her head slowly. 

"I'm not exactly in the mood for your sympathy right now." 

Lyla's eyebrows furrowed, noting the steel in Letty's gaze and the way her fists were clenched at her sides, "It's not sympathy. It's just..." she said, sighing. "I know how it feels to have something like this happen. It can consume you, and I don't want to see you let it." 

Letty's eyes narrowed, her anger barely contained, "Consume me? That's all I've been thinking about - making sure they pay for what they did to me. And I sure as hell don't need anyone telling me how to handle this." 

Lyla stepped closer, her voice steady but gentle, "I get that you want revenge. Believe me, I understand the need for justice. But let your anger drive you into action, not blind you. If you let it take over, you might end up hurting yourself more than you hurt them." 

Lyla had learned a harsh lesson from watching Riddle's descent - rage could sustain a person for a time, but they could also destroy everything good within them. It was a painful reminder of what could happen when anger was allowed to fester unchecked, when the darkness was invited in and allowed to take root.

Letty's gaze flickered with frustration, "And what makes you think you know what I'm going through?" 

"I don't," Lyla admitted, her tone softer now. "But I do know that holding onto that kind of rage can destroy you. It's like a fire that burns everything in its path, including you. I've seen it happen." 

For a moment, Letty was silent, her thoughts racing. The clarity in Lyla's words struck a chord she hadn't anticipated. Her eyes softened slightly, the tension in her shoulders easing as she considered Lyla's advice, "So, what am I supposed to do, huh?" she asked, her voice quieter now, betraying a hint of vulnerability. "Just forget it ever happened and move on?" she sneered, her anger still simmering. 

"No," Lyla said firmly. "Fight for what's right, but don't let it consume you. Find a way to channel that anger into something that'll help you heal, not just cause more damage. You've got to take care of yourself, too." 

Letty studied Lyla's face, searching for any hint of insincerity but finding none. Despite their limited history, Lyla's concern was genuine. 

"Thanks for the advice," Letty said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Lyla nodded, her expression warm but respectful, "Just know this, if you ever want to talk, or just need someone to listen, I'm here," she said with a tight smile, rubbing Letty's arm in comfort. Before Letty could utter another word, Unser's voice caught both of their attention. 

"Comfortable?" Unser asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he raised an eyebrow at the men lounging on his car. 

"What?" Jax asked, noticing the look on his face. 

"Bad news for law enforcement," he announced. "Weston and Zobelle are both walking." 

"How?" Letty sneered, pushing off her bike and making her way over. Jax, who was sitting on the hood of the petrol, draped an arm over her shoulders. 

"Chuckie's testimony don't hold up," Unser informed them, his eyes meeting Letty's as he says the next part. "And Zobelle has been working for the FBI all along." 

"A rat?" Letty let out a loud hysterical laugh. "Of course that fucker's a rat. How did we not see that coming?" she asked, turning to the boys as she threw her hands up in the air in disbelief and amusement. 

Unser nodded, "Trading senators and A.B. shot-callers." 

"Thanks," Clay said to Unser as he pushed himself to his feet. Once the Chief had walked away, he turned to the blonde, who was preparing to hop into her car parked a few meters away. "Hey, Lyla!" he called out, grabbing her attention. "I heard Riddler got transferred." 

"Yeah, he's up at Stockton now," she replied, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. "Why?"

"You think you can get him a message from Samcro?" 

"Sure," she said, offering a small smile as she closed the driver's side door and started to make her way over to the bikers, but before Clay could recite the message, the sound of the station door swinging open caught everyone's attention.  

Letty's gaze locked on the entrance of the police station. The door creaked open, and out stepped Polly, flanked by her father, Ethan. The sight of them together - the mastermind and his compliant daughter - ignited a fresh wave of rage in Letty's chest.

Polly's eyes found Letty's almost immediately, and whatever confidence she had left evaporated in an instant. Fear flashed across Polly's face, her bravado crumbling as she recognised the deadly glare in Letty's eyes. It was the same glare Polly had seen the night before, when Letty had come terrifyingly close to ending her life.

Letty's lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile - a predator sizing up its prey. She didn't need to say anything; her expression conveyed everything. Polly's steps faltered, and for a moment, she hesitated, as if the distance between them was too dangerous to cross. Her father's grip on her arm tightened, guiding her forward, but Polly couldn't tear her gaze away from Letty.

Letty's hand twitched at her side, and with a subtle, almost imperceptible motion, she dragged her thumb slowly across her throat, a silent promise of what was to come. The gesture was small, but its impact was immense - Polly's face drained of colour, her eyes widening in terror as the unspoken threat hit home.

Polly turned her head away quickly, breaking eye contact as she hurried toward the waiting car. Letty could see the tremor in her steps, the way her hands clenched into fists as she tried to maintain some semblance of control. But it was too late - Letty had already planted the seed of fear, and she knew it would grow, festering inside Polly with every passing moment.

As the car door slammed shut, separating Polly from her, Letty allowed herself a moment of satisfaction. She had made a vow to herself - a promise that Polly would pay for her involvement in her attack. And that promise was now etched in Polly's mind as clearly as it was in Letty's.

But at the sound of the approaching roar of motorcycle engines, Letty's head whipped around and noticed Alvarez and his men pulling up in front of the police station. The Sons immediately reacted, jumping off the petrol car and stepped forward. Juice instinctively, linked his fingers with Letty's and pulling her closer to his chest, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.  

"You gotta be kidding me? What a fucking pussy," Letty muttered under her breath, her narrowed eyes now aimed at the Mayans. 

"Holy shit," Bobby said, the last one to waddle over. "Alvarez," he said with disdain laced in his tone. 

"Brown's protecting their investment, huh?" Clay said, his eyes locked on the President of their rival motorcycle club. 

"Appears so," Letty mumbled. 

Zobelle's car pulled away, and Letty's gaze remained fixed on it until it disappeared from view, the Mayans trailing right behind it. 

A smirk tugged at the corner of Letty's lips, "Let the war begin," she said, making her way over to her bike, mounting it and instantly taking off after her enemies, her family right there with her. 

Letty's heart pounded with adrenaline coursing through her veins. The darkness she carried within her had found its target, and Letty knew that the time would come when she would fulfil the promise she made. 

***

Unser stepped into the cell area and peeked into the cage they were keeping Weston in. The white supremacist was currently taking a piss. Flushing the toilet, he simply turned and sat back on his bed, a solemn expression on his face.

"Not gonna wash your hands?" Unser inquired, catching the man's attention, who's expression remained still. "Ain't you wondering why your boss was locked up?" the older man continued to taunt. "Why he ain't now?"

"He's not my boss or my concern," Weston sneered, not even bothering to meet the cop's gaze, his head hanging low, clenching his fist together, his rage bubbling just below the surface. 

Unser nodded his head in understanding, "I'd probably feel the same way, uh, if I found out I was working for a rat." 

This caught Weston's attention as he looked up at the man with wide eyes, shocked by the news. 

"Guy in the suit that walked them out of here," Unser said, shaking his head. "He's not a lawyer. FBI handler." 

Weston got to his feet, his hands gripping the bars between him and Unser, "Informant?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Unser huffed, "Three years," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "We can't touch him." 

Weston furrowed his eyebrows in suspicion, "Why are you telling me this?" 

Unser stepped forward, gripping onto the bars as he stood face to face with the man he absolutely despised, "The hate you got in your heart for colour, multiply it by ten, point it at yourself and Zobelle, and hang my name on it. I hope you rip each other to shreds," he hissed through gritted teeth, his tone laced with so much disdain and hatred it could send a chill down anyone's spine. His eyes flashed with a murderous glint, his protectiveness and care for Letty shining through. 

He stood their staring the man down for a moment, only moving away from the cell when Hale entered. 

"We were just saying our good-byes," he said, placing a hand on his young deputy's shoulder on his way out the door. 

Hale approached the cell, almost hesitantly, key in hand, "Eyewitness was unreliable," he informed Weston like it pained him to do so. "D.A is not pursuing the charges. You're free to go." 

A smirk tugged at the corner of Weston's lips as Hale unlocked the cell door and swung it open for him. But as he stepped out, his path was immediately blocked by the man, who placed a firm hand on his chest, pushing him up against the wall. 

Hale's gaze was unyielding, his eyes darkened with a storm of emotions as he took in the sight of the man responsible for Letty's pain, "I need you to understand something," he began, his voice cold and clipped. 

Weston shifted uncomfortably under the police officer's intense scrutiny, a hint of trepidation in his eyes, "And what's that, Chief?"

Hale stepped closer, his demeanour a stark contrast to the calm façade he usually maintained, "You hurt someone who means a lot to me," he said, his tone laced with a dangerous edge. 

Weston's smirk faltered, and he raised an eyebrow, trying to mask his growing discomfort, "I have no idea what you're talking about?" 

Hale's eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides, "I'm talking about Letty Morrow!" he snapped, slamming his fist into the wall just by Weston's head, but the man remained still, not even flinching at the deputy's outburst. "I know what you did to her. I might not be able to prove it, but I know. And I'm not gonna let you get away with it." 

Weston's expression shifted from casual indifference to wary concern, sensing the gravity in Hale's voice, "What are you going to do, Deputy. Huh? Kill me? Because you and I both know you don't have the balls." 

Hale took a step forward, his gaze stern, "I could always hand you over to Clay." A smirk tugged at the corners of Hale's lips as he saw Weston's bravado shake just a little. "But fortunately for you, I'm a cop actually bound by the law," he said with a sigh, he would love to hand him over to Clay and the others, but his conscience wouldn't let him do that. "I care about Letty deeply. More than you could ever comprehend. And what you did to her is unforgivable." 

He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in, "The toll this has taken on her," he said, shaking his head. "The fear - the pain. I saw the struggle in her eyes last night - her internal battle as she tried to fight her way out of the darkness. I made her a promise that I would do everything in my power to make sure you pay for it, and I intend to keep that promise." 

Weston smirked in amusement, "You think you can make me pay?"

Hale's expression hardened, his voice steady, "I don't think. I know. I will make sure you face the consequences. And I'll make it so you wish you'd never laid a finger on her."

And with that, he turned on his heel, his demeanour tall with determination, the door closing behind him with a final, echoing thud, the fire of his promise burning fiercely within him.

***

Lyla stepped into the sterile visitation room, her heart heavy with anticipation. She glanced around, searching for the familiar figure of her husband among the row of tables and chairs. Finally, her gaze settled on Riddle, sitting alone at a table in the far corner, his expression unreadable.

As she approached, Lyla couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Riddle's usual warmth seemed dimmed, his eyes distant as if lost in some far-off place. She took a seat across from him, reaching out to touch his hand, but he pulled away slightly, a flicker of unease crossing his features.

"Rid, what's wrong?" Lyla asked softly, her voice laced with concern. "You seem...distant."

Riddle forced a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes, "Nothing, babe. Just tired, you know how it is in here."

But Lyla wasn't convinced. She had spent enough time by his side to recognise the signs of inner turmoil, even when he tried to hide them. She leaned forward, her gaze searching his face for answers.

"Riddle, please," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can tell when something's bothering you. I know it's been hard since the transfer. Being separated from some of your boys. But you know, you can talk to me, right?" 

Riddle's transfer from San Joaquin County Correctional Facility to Stockton State Prison was a consequence of a violent riot that erupted within the facility, a disturbance that shook the prison to its core. The riot, which started as a small altercation between rival gangs, quickly escalated into a full-blown conflict, drawing in a significant portion of the inmate population. Chaos spread like wildfire, with prisoners attacking each other and correctional officers struggling to regain control.

During the riot, Riddle, who was known as the king pin of the correctional facility, found himself in the thick of the conflict. Despite his efforts to maintain order, the sheer scale of the violence made it impossible to minimise the destruction and chaos. The prison administration, overwhelmed by the severity of the situation, made the decision to initiate an emergency lockdown, followed by a mass transfer of inmates to different facilities in an attempt to break up the gangs and diffuse tensions.

As a result, Riddle was separated from most of his crew, many of whom were also transferred to other prisons across the state. The decision to move Riddle specifically to Stockton State Prison was influenced by several factors. Firstly, Stockton was known for its high-security measures, making it a suitable place to house inmates considered to be influential or potentially disruptive, especially in the aftermath of such a riot.

Secondly, the prison administration viewed the transfer as a way to neutralise Riddle's influence. By isolating him from the majority of his crew, they hoped to weaken his power and reduce the likelihood of further violence. Stockton's reputation for being a tougher, more restrictive environment was also seen as a deterrent, intended to keep Riddle and others like him in check.

The transfer to Stockton marked a significant change for Riddle. Not only was he now isolated from the men he had led and relied on for years, but he was also thrust into a new environment where he had to navigate the complex dynamics of a different prison population. The riot and subsequent transfer were a turning point, forcing Riddle to adapt to his new reality while dealing with the lingering anger and resentment of being separated from his crew.

This move to Stockton wasn't just a logistical decision; it was a deliberate attempt by the prison authorities to dismantle the power structures that had contributed to the chaos at San Joaquin. For Riddle, it meant facing the challenges of a new environment, where survival required both strength and a keen understanding of the shifting alliances within the prison walls.

Riddle sighed, his façade crumbling under Lyla's comforting gaze, "It's...it's Prince," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "He...he didn't make it out of the riot."

San Joaquin County Correctional Facility

2008

The air in San Joaquin County Correctional Facility was thick with tension, the kind that simmered just beneath the surface, waiting for a spark to ignite it. That spark came one sweltering afternoon in the yard, where a minor dispute over a game of cards spiralled out of control. Voices were raised, fists were thrown, and within moments, the entire yard erupted into chaos.

Riddle was in the far corner, keeping an eye on the scene as it unfolded. His instincts, honed over years in the system, screamed at him that something was about to go very, very wrong. He scanned the crowd, searching for the young boy who had become like a son to him - a kid named Aaron Windsor, nicknamed Prince, barely nineteen and far too young to be in a place like this.

Prince had been dealt a bad hand in life. A string of poor choices and worse luck had landed him in San Joaquin, where he was surrounded by men twice his age, hardened by the same system that was already starting to break him. But Riddle had seen something in Prince, a spark of something good, something that hadn't been crushed out yet. He'd taken the boy under his wing, vowing to protect him, to keep him from becoming another casualty of the prison's brutal world.

But today, that vow was about to be tested in the worst possible way.

Through the melee of swinging fists and shouts, Riddle caught a glimpse of Prince near the centre of the yard. The boy's wide, terrified eyes locked onto his, and Riddle's heart sank. Prince was caught in the middle of a fight that had nothing to do with him, just a scared kid in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Prince! Get out of there!" Riddle's voice was drowned out by the roar of the crowd, but he started pushing his way through the throng of bodies, desperate to reach the boy.

But the tide of violence was too strong. Riddle watched in horror as a group of inmates, blinded by their rage, turned on Prince. The boy raised his arms to shield himself, his fear evident, but he was no match for the onslaught. Riddle's heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline surging as he fought to get to Prince, to pull him out of the fray.

But it was too late.

A shiv flashed in the sunlight, and Prince's scream cut through the noise like a blade. Riddle's world slowed to a crawl as he saw the weapon plunge into the boy's side, once, twice, and again. Prince crumpled to the ground, blood staining the dirt beneath him. The sight of it - of that bright, young life bleeding out in the yard - shattered something deep within Riddle.

Rage and despair collided in his chest as he finally broke through the mob, dropping to his knees beside Prince's crumpled form. The boy's breath was shallow, his eyes wide with fear and pain, searching for some kind of reassurance.

"I'm here, kid. I'm right here. You're not alone," Riddle's voice was thick with emotion, his hands trembling as he tried to stem the flow of blood, but he knew it was hopeless. Prince's life was slipping away, right there in his arms, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Prince's gaze met Riddle's one last time, a fleeting moment of connection before the light in his eyes faded. His body went still, and Riddle felt a cold emptiness settle in his chest, a crushing weight of guilt and grief. He'd promised to protect Prince, to keep him safe, but in the end, the boy had been just another victim of the prison's relentless brutality.

As the riot raged on around him, Riddle stayed there, holding Prince's lifeless body, a silent vow forming in his heart. He would never forget this moment, this loss. And though the system had taken Prince from him, it would never take away the bond they'd shared, nor the memories of the young boy who had become like a son to him.

But in that moment, surrounded by chaos and death, Riddle felt only the profound ache of failure - an agony that would stay with him long after the riot was over.

Suddenly, he heard the shouts of his crew cutting through the chaos. His best friend, Taino, led the charge, their faces etched with urgency and fear as they fought their way through the yard toward him.

"Rid! We've gotta move!" Taino shouted, skidding to a halt beside Riddle, his eyes widening at the sight of Prince's lifeless form cradled in Riddle's arms.

Riddle didn't respond, his mind a storm of anguish and disbelief. He refused to let go of Prince, clutching the boy's body as if holding on could somehow undo the horror of what had just happened.

"Riddle, come on! We can't stay here!" Taino's voice was filled with desperation, but when Riddle didn't budge, Taino dropped to his knees, trying to pull his friend away. "We have to go, man! You have to let him go!"

Riddle shook his head, his grip on Prince tightening, "I can't...I can't leave him. Not here," he murmured, his voice breaking. 

Taino glanced back at the escalating chaos around them, then at Ox, another member of their crew who had just arrived, "Help me!" Taino called to Ox, who rushed over without hesitation.

Together, Taino and Ox managed to pry Riddle's fingers from Prince's body, their own hearts breaking as they saw the devastation in Riddle's eyes, "We'll take him somewhere safe," Ox said, his voice choked with emotion. "But we have to move now!" 

Riddle resisted, his heart torn between staying with Prince and the harsh reality that he needed to survive this riot. But as the violence around them intensified, he realised he had no choice. With Taino and Ox guiding him, they started to pull him away.

Behind them, Monk and Spook, faces streaked with tears, gently lifted Prince's body. The boy who had once looked at them with his wide, innocent eyes was now lifeless, his dreams and potential cut short in the most brutal way imaginable. With heavy hearts, they carried him toward an empty cell, desperate to shield him from the madness outside, even though they knew it was too late.

As Taino and Ox dragged Riddle away, he couldn't tear his eyes from Prince's body, a hollow ache settling deep within him. The pain of losing the boy he'd sworn to protect was unbearable, and it took every ounce of strength for Taino and Ox to keep him moving, to keep him alive.

Once they reached a relatively safe spot, Taino turned to Riddle, gripping his shoulders tightly, "We'll get through this," he said, though his voice wavered. "But we need you, papi. We need you to survive this. For Prince." 

Riddle nodded numbly, the tears finally spilling over as he realised the truth in Taino's words. Prince was gone, but the fight wasn't over. He had to live - for Prince, for the Marauders, for the family they had become in this unforgiving place. But the pain of that loss would haunt him, a wound that would never truly heal.

As the chaos of the riot continued to rage around them, Riddle knew that nothing would ever be the same again. Prince's death had shattered something inside him, a darkness creeping into his soul that he feared might never leave. And as they huddled together, battered and bruised but alive, Riddle vowed silently that he would carry Prince's memory with him, no matter how much it hurt.

But in the back of his mind, he knew that the darkness had already taken root, and it was only a matter of time before it consumed him completely.

Lyla's heart clenched at the mention of Prince's name. She knew how much he meant to Riddle, how he had taken the troubled young man under his wing, offering guidance and support in a place devoid of hope.

"I'm so sorry, baby," she said, reaching out to grasp his hand firmly in hers. "I know how much he meant to you."

Riddle nodded, his eyes brimming with unshed tears, "He was just a kid, Ly. I tried to protect him, but..." His voice trailed off, the weight of guilt heavy upon his shoulders.

Lyla squeezed his hand tighter, offering what little comfort she could, "It's not your fault, Rid. You did everything you could. Prince knew how much you cared about him."

For a moment, they sat in silence, their hands intertwined, drawing strength from each other in the face of a heart-breaking loss.

Riddle swiftly wiped away his tears, retracting his hand from Lyla's as his expression hardened into a stoic mask almost instantly. His breathing steadied, and the raw grief was buried deep beneath a composed exterior. The transformation was so seamless it was almost frightening - one moment, a man broken by loss; the next, the hardened leader the remaining members of the Marauders relied on, emotions hidden behind a wall of ironclad composure.

"How about you? How's everything going at home?" he asked in a monotone voice as he fought to keep up his tough façade. 

"I didn't just come here for a visit, Rid," she said, her voice barely audible, her eyes finding her lap as she fiddled with her fingers under the table. 

Riddle's body visibly tensed, "What is it?" he raised an eyebrow, his guide immediately up.  

"Samcro needs a favour." 

A long sigh left Riddle's lips in realisation as he ran a hand over his shaven head and face, "I don't have any power in here, babe. I lost half my crew when we were all transferred. If I go stirring up trouble with the wrong crowd, I'm a target. They'll have my ass. And that's speaking literal." 

"I know," Lyla sighed, the guilt tugging at her chest as she looked up to meet her husband's gaze. "I'm sorry. I just thought I'd ask. You know, they've been looking out for me on the outside. The girls - Gemma - they've been great helping me out with Kaeden." 

Riddle sighed, caving under his wife's pleading gaze, "What do they need?" 

"Some guy called Otto wants retaliation from an attack a few weeks ago," Lyla spoke slightly unsure as she recited Clay's instructions. 

Riddle's eyebrows shot up, "The blind guy? Shit!" His head snapped back, another sigh escaping as he took a moment to ponder. "What do I need to do?" he asked, meeting Lyla's gaze, determination carried in his words. 

***

Letty leaned against Juice, her back pressed to his chest as he sat on his bike, one arm wrapped securely around her waist. The steady thrum of the Harley beneath them was a comforting vibration, a constant in the storm of tension that crackled in the air. Juice's fingers traced slow, absent-minded circles on her hip, a small gesture of reassurance amid the mounting chaos.

On one side of the road, the Sons of Anarchy stood in a formidable line, their faces set in grim determination. Each man was a pillar of unyielding strength, their loyalty to one another and to their club evident in every hard glare and clenched jaw. The roar of their bikes, engines idling, added to the palpable tension, the sound a menacing undertone to the scene unfolding before them.

Across the street, the Mayans mirrored their stance, lined up in front of Zobelle's cigar shop. Their presence was just as imposing, a show of force that made it clear they were ready for whatever was about to come. 

Between the two factions, a handful of police cars and officers formed a shaky barrier, their presence meant to keep the peace but doing little to quell the seething tension. The officers stood in the middle of the road, hands on their holsters, eyes flicking nervously between the two groups. The air was thick with the threat of violence, a fragile thread holding back the impending clash.

Letty's eyes were locked on the scene before her, her body tense despite Juice's reassuring hold. She could feel the heat of his breath against her neck, his calm presence a stark contrast to the chaos around them. He leaned in slightly, his voice a low murmur in her ear, "You okay, baby?"

She nodded, though her gaze never left the line of Mayans, her mind racing with thoughts of what could happen next. The tension was suffocating, and she knew that one wrong move could tip the balance, sending them all spiralling into a bloodbath.

But for now, in this brief moment, she took comfort in the solidity of Juice's arms around her, in the unspoken promise that no matter what happened, they would face it together.

Letty noticed Unser's petrol car pull up and watched as the older man climbed out and made his way over to his deputy, "So, where we at?" 

"I cleared out Floyd and everyone else in the potential of fire," Hale informed him, while his eyes gaze around at the impending chaos that was sure to erupt. "Look, helping Samcro, it's about Letty, I get it. I want to help her too," he said, his eyes finding the giggling girl, who had now turned around in her boyfriend's arms, hers going around his neck as she placed a loving kiss on his lips, while his hands gently caressed her hips, causing a sadness to flash in Hale's orbs. "But if these guys open up on main street, I gotta call the sheriff," he said, breaking his longing gaze on Letty as he turned away. 

"Whoa, whoa!" Unser immediately protested, grabbing the man's arm and stopping him from walking away. "This is Charming business." 

"Hey, look at this!" Hale snapped, catching Letty's attention. "If this goes South, we can't contain it, all right? It's the goddamn wild West. You put me in charge. I'm calling." And with that, he walked off to do so, making Unser sigh. 

At the sound of her phone ringing, Letty pushed off Juice and grabbed it out of the pocket of her leather jacket, "Yeah?" she said into the phone as she pressed the device against her ear. Letty nodded her head in understanding, "Okay, thanks, Lyla," she said, before hanging up the phone and placing it back into her pocket as she addressed the boys. "Lyla got the message to Riddle." 

Clay nodded, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, "Good." 

"Weston out yet?" Jax asked Unser as he approached the group. 

"Yeah." Unser nodded, meeting the only female on the street's intense gaze, her eyes instantly darkening at the mention of the man's name, her fists clenched at her sides as they shook in anger, causing Juice to link his fingers with hers in an attempt to calm her down, which she appreciated, leaning into his side. "Hale's got Eglee to give him an escort out of town. Making a stop to see his kids first - Sanwa CFS." 

"Well, we catch him at family services," Letty declared, placing on her helmet and preparing to mount her bike as she met her brother's gaze, earning a firm nod as he did the same. 

"Hey, no harm to my officer," Unser warned, pointing a firm finger between the siblings. 

Letty gasped, placing a hand on her chest mockingly, "You know I love Candy. I'd never hurt her."  

Unser simply hummed suspiciously. 

"Let's go then," Opie said, mounting his bike with a determined look on his face, making Letty send him an appreciative smile. 

"Hey," Juice was quick to grab Letty's wrist as she moved to mount her own bike. "You sure about this, baby?" he asked, his concern evident in his tone. 

Letty sighed, "I need to do this, Ju," she said, determination strong in her tone and demeanour. 

"Don't worry. I got her back," Chibs stated, grabbing his own helmet and putting it on. "I won't let anything happen to her," he said, meeting Juice's gaze, letting him know he would protect her with his life with a single look. 

"Awe, Chibs," Letty teased, placing a hand on her heart once more. "My heart." 

"Shut up," he shot back, mounting his bike as they both shared a heartly chuckle.

"I love you," Juice murmured as he cupped her face and rested his forehead on hers. 

"I love you too, baby," she whispered, leaning in to place a tender kiss on his lips, before turning around and mounting her bike. 

The roar of motorcycle engines came to life as Letty, Jax, Opie and Chibs prepared to leave, Juice yelling out to Letty over the rumble, "I want a baby!"

Letty's head whipped to the side to look at her boyfriend with furrowed eyebrows, "What?" 

"I want kids. I want the white picket fence. I want everything you described. But I don't want to wait. I want it now. I want it all with you," he confessed, a vulnerability in his voice and features. 

There was a pause, Juice holding his breath as his heart pounded in his chest, but then, a smile graced Letty's face as she said, "I want everything with you too," she said, before pulling onto the road and speeding off down main street, followed by Jax, Opie and Chibs. 

***

The cell was a small, oppressive space, illuminated by a single, flickering light bulb that barely penetrated the shadows. Riddle stood in the middle, his posture rigid and commanding as he finished explaining the job Samcro had given him. His voice was low but carried an undertone of determination.

Taino and Ox stood nearby, their faces reflecting a mix of frustration and concern. The air was thick with tension as Riddle's words hung between them.

Ox broke the silence, his voice urgent and edged with frustration, "What happened to keeping our heads down? I can't do anymore time, man. My daughter won't even remember me by the time I get out." 

Taino, his arms crossed, snorted dismissively, "Since when do you give a shit about playing it safe?"

Ox, glanced nervously around the cell, shifting uncomfortably as if someone was going to jump out at him, "Since the players in here are far more dangerous than the ones back in county. I heard one guy cut another mans balls off and shoved them down his throat until he choked to death," he said, shaking his head. "Choking on your own balls, man - what a brutal way to go." 

Taino met Ox's gaze with a sharp look, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, "Have you seen the size of you? Did they cut off your balls before they transferred you?" 

Ox bristled, his voice dropping to a growl as he took a stride towards Taino, "You calling me a pussy?"

Taino's grin widened, his tone dripping with mockery, "No, I'm calling you a bitch." 

Riddle's voice cut through the bickering like a knife, "Enough! This is my debt to pay. Neither of you need to do anything. I'll handle it." 

Taino's eyes flared with stubborn defiance as he shook his head, "Fuck that. Your debt is my debt, papi." 

Taino respected Lyla for reasons that went far beyond her relationship with Riddle. Despite never meeting her in the outside world, her actions spoke volumes about her character. She was more than just Riddle's old lady - she was a woman of immense kindness and loyalty, someone who valued the bonds between people. 

Taino had always looked out for Riddle inside. Prison was a harsh, unforgiving place, and having someone you could trust was rare. Taino and Riddle had developed a brotherhood forged in the fire of survival, and while Taino never expected anything in return for his loyalty, Lyla showed her gratitude in ways that were unexpected but deeply appreciated.

Lyla knew how much Riddle meant to Taino, and even though she had never met Taino in person, she made sure he was taken care of. His family had cut him off after he tried to kill his cousin, leaving him isolated and with no one to rely on. But Lyla, with her nurturing heart and unwavering sense of justice, ensured that Taino never went without. She made sure his commissary always had money in it so he could get what he needed - food, hygiene products, small comforts that made prison life just a little more bearable.

Taino had never asked for this kindness, but Lyla had given it anyway. It wasn't just the money in his commissary that earned his respect - it was the thought behind it. She understood the power of small acts of kindness, and in doing so, she made Taino feel less alone. In a world that had turned its back on him, Lyla had extended a hand, even from afar.

Taino respected Lyla because she didn't have to do any of this, but she did it anyway. She recognised the importance of looking out for one another, whether inside or outside the prison walls. It was that understanding, that silent bond of mutual respect and care, that made Taino feel a deep loyalty toward her. He wasn't just helping Riddle because of their brotherhood - he was doing it because he wanted to repay the kindness that Lyla had shown him.

The Sons had looked out for Lyla on the outside, and in return, Taino felt a sense of duty to help them out in any way he could. He knew that loyalty wasn't just about who you rode with or who you shared a cell with - it was about the connections that transcended those boundaries. Lyla's actions had shown him that, and because of that, he was more than willing to stand by Riddle and the Sons whenever they needed him to.

Riddle turned toward the heavy cell door, his movements deliberate and final. Taino followed, his resolve unshaken. Ox hesitated by the door, torn between his own fears and his loyalty to his friends. After a moment of inner conflict, he stepped forward, joining them. 

"What are you doing?" Riddle asked with a mix of surprise and curiosity. 

Ox responded with a firm tone, despite the anxiety in his eyes, "I got your back, brother. The three of us is all we have left now."

Riddle's stern expression softened, his gratitude evident in his eyes. He nodded, acknowledging the unwavering support of his friends. The three men moved as one, their footsteps reverberated through the cold, sterile halls of the prison, a testament to their unspoken bond. 

The unspoken pact between them carried them down the narrow corridor - a silent promise of loyalty and solidarity, a bond forged in the fires of their collective struggle.

***

Riddle stood inside the dimly lit library of Stockton State Prison, his eyes tracing the lines of a book he wasn't really reading. His focus was elsewhere, locked onto the target moving between the shelves, oblivious to the danger that lurked in the shadows. The man was pushing a book cart, placing worn-out volumes back in their places, unaware of the three predators watching his every move.

Taino and Ox were positioned nearby; Taino leaned against a wall, flipping through pages as if the text held any meaning to him. Ox sat at a computer, his fingers idly tapping the keyboard, though his attention was firmly on the mission at hand.

Taino was the first to move. He pushed off the wall, his actions smooth and unhurried, closing the book with a quiet thud. As he walked past Otto Delaney, who was seated at a table, lost in the sound of a cassette tape, Taino placed the book down in front of him. Without a word, Otto opened the book, his fingers brushing against the cold metal of a shiv hidden inside.

At the same time, Ox rose from his seat at the computer, his movements deliberate and precise. As he passed Riddle, Riddle subtly handed him a brick, carefully disguised as just another item to go unnoticed in the library. Ox's expression remained impassive as he continued toward their target.

With a swift, brutal motion, Ox brought the brick down on the back of the man's head. The impact was silent but deadly, the man crumpling to the floor, hidden from view by the towering shelves. The library's eerie silence remained unbroken, the other inmates unaware of the violence that had just unfolded.

Riddle moved next, his steps calm and measured as he approached Otto, who now gripped the shiv tightly in his hand. Riddle guided Otto over to the fallen Aryan, Otto's face twisted with controlled rage. Crouching down, he grabbed the man's head with one hand as he leaned in close, his voice a low, menacing whisper, "The beating was from Samcro. This is from me."

And with that, Otto drove the shiv into the man's neck, his grip tightening as the life slowly drained from his victim. Blood pooled on the cold library floor, staining the pages of books that had fallen from the cart.

Riddle, Ox, and Taino stood guard, their eyes sharp and alert, ensuring no one stumbled upon the scene. They were a well-oiled machine, moving with the precision of men who had done this many times before. As the Aryan's body went limp, Otto finally released his hold, standing up with a deep breath, with help from Riddle. 

As Riddle guided Otto back to his seat, he turned to his men and gave them a single nod, the signal to disperse. They all moved with practiced ease, slipping back into the roles they had been playing moments before, the shiv back safe and sound inside the book's hallow pages, while the library returned to its eerie quiet, as if nothing had happened. 

***

Letty sat inside the black van, perched up on Opie's lap, while Jax sat gripping the wheel in the driver's seat, and Chibs poked his head through the gap between the two seats, all their eyes locked on the building a few metres away. They all perked up when they noticed Candy exiting with Weston and soon after his kid exiting with one of the child service officers. 

"Here we go," Jax said, straightening up in his seat, his grip tightening on the steering wheel just at the sight of Weston. 

"What the hell's he doing with the kid?" Opie said as Weston started to guide his boy away. 

"Shit," Letty adjusted herself on Opie's lap to get a closer look. "He's taking the kid with him." 

"Call Unser," Jax instructed Chibs, his eyes watching Weston closely as he drove off with his kid. "Find out what's going on," he said, starting up his own engine. 

***

The black van sat idled in front of the tattoo shop, its engine a low purr that blended with the hum of the small town. Inside, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation and tension. Letty sat in the back seat, flanked by Chibs and Jax.

Letty's gaze was fixed on the entrance of the tattoo parlour, her mind racing. The shop was eerily familiar. The memory of Charlotte - her best friend from when she was sixteen - hovered just beneath the surface of her thoughts. Charlotte's cousin, Josh Lovejoy, was inside, a person who had once been more than just a connection to her lost friend. After Charlotte's death, Letty and Josh had sought comfort in each other, sharing a brief, hesitant romance marked by only a few stolen kisses. The relationship had ended awkwardly, leaving an unspoken tension between them that lingered to this very day.

Chibs, seated beside her, was focused on his phone call with Unser, his phone pressed against his ear. But his presence was a steady, calming anchor for Letty. Jax, in the driver's seat, remained vigilant, his grip tight on the steering wheel as he waited for the moment to strike.

Letty's fingers drummed restlessly on her thigh, the rhythm a reflection of her growing unease. She could feel the weight of her past pressing on her, mingling with the urgency of the task at hand. The memories of her brief romance with Josh was a complicated tangle of grief and misplaced affection, making the current situation all the more charged.

"Okay, cool," Chibs said into the phone, before hanging it up and turning to his V.P. "So, they gave Weston a supervised visit with his kid - Unser's cop as chaperone." 

Letty's face contorted in confusion, her eyes travelling back to the parlour, "And he took them for ink?" she asked, turning to Chibs, her thumb pointing to the shop over her shoulder. Letty and Jax both shook their heads in disbelief, sharing a chuckle, "Perfect." 

"Guess little Cliffie couldn't go," Chibs chimed in, the amusement clear in his voice, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "He's in a psych eval." 

Letty let out a loud laugh, "Of course he is." 

At the sound of the door opening, she pulled herself up and moved aside briefly to allow Opie to climb back into the van. 

"Weston, two inkers, two customers, the kid, and the cop," Opie informed them all as Letty rested back into his lap. 

"The guy that owns this place, didn't you two date?" Jax inquired with a raised eyebrow as he sent Letty a knowing look. 

"Shit," Letty cursed under her breath - perks of living in a small town. "For like a hot minute.  Wasn't even that hot," she muttered under her breath, making Opie chuckle. 

"Was it hot enough for him?" Jax asked, his classic smirk plastered on his face as he made his eyebrows jump. 

"Always," she replied, matching his smirk. 

"Give him a call," Jax instructed, making Letty groan in annoyance. "Come on, gotta get him clear of his kid." 

Letty let out a deep sigh, running a hand down her face, accepting the untraceable phone from Chibs, who also wore an amused expression, earning him a glare from Letty, making his amusement only grow. 

***

The air was thick with the acrid scent of ink and antiseptic, mingling with the soft hum of the tattoo machine. Josh was focused intently on his work, his hands steady as he applied intricate lines of ink to Weston's back. 

Weston, laid face first on the chair, winced occasionally but remained still, his gaze fixed on his son that sat nearby. The faint sound of the needle buzzed rhythmically, a constant backdrop to the silence that had settled over the room. Josh's concentration was absolute, his face illuminated by the focused light at his work station.

The phone on the counter, an old-fashioned rotary that seemed out of place in the modern setting, rang suddenly, slicing through the quiet. Josh's eyebrows knitted together in mild irritation as he glanced at the phone, clearly reluctant to break his focus.

He wiped his hands on a rag and approached the counter, his movements deliberate and measured. Picking up the receiver, he brought it to his ear, "Lovejoy's Ink?" 

The voice on the other end was unmistakable, a sharp contrast to the subdued atmosphere of the shop, "Josh, it's Letty. I know it's been a long time, but I need a favour." 

Josh's eyes narrowed slightly, a mix of surprise and curiosity flashing across his face. He glanced over at Weston, who had sat himself up in the chair, glancing over at his son, who was absorbed in his own thoughts.

"Lett-A-Lott!" he greeted joyfully with the familiar nickname he used to call Charlotte and Letty, because they were always together. "Sorry, habit," he said when all he received was silence. "What do you need?" 

"I'm outside with some friends," Letty's voice came through clearly. "The guy on your table, club wants him," she said with a sigh. "I know it's a lot to ask, but can you help us out? We need him clear of the kid and the cop." 

Josh hesitated for a moment, his gaze shifting back to the police officer, who stood in the corner, a stern look on her face and her arms firmly crossed over her chest. It was a lot to ask and most likely involved something illegal, but Josh would always have a soft spot for Letty, and he could hear the urgency in her voice. 

"All right," Josh finally said with a sigh. "What do you need me to do?" 

"In five minutes, give him a reason to go to the bathroom. Think you can do that for me, Joshy?" Letty's tone turned into a seductive whisper, and Josh knew without even seeing her face, she was biting into her bottom lip, which always drove him crazy. 

Josh sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he considered the request, "Yeah, I think I can work something out. But you owe me for this." 

"Of course." 

***

Letty hung up the phone and leaned back, the faint hum of tension still coursing through her veins. She turned her head, a smirk playing on her lips as she glanced over at Opie, Chibs, and Jax. 

"Still got it," she said with a wink, her voice laced with confidence and a hint of satisfaction.

The guys chuckled, shaking their heads in amusement at her audacity. There was something infectious about Letty's spirit, even in situations like this.

Jax leaned forward, his expression turning serious as he checked his handgun, screwing on the silencer with practiced ease, "Let's go," he said, his voice low and steady.

The mood in the van shifted as they geared up. Chibs grabbed his shotgun, slinging it over his shoulder, while Letty secured her knife in its holster. They moved with purpose, their actions fluid and deliberate as the weight of what they were about to do settled over them.

Letty took a deep breath, her fingers brushing over the cool metal of her hand gun. She was ready - ready to face Weston, ready to confront her demons. The adrenaline was already pumping through her, sharp and intoxicating, as she mentally prepared herself for what's to come.

The night air was cool against Letty's skin as they moved quickly and silently toward the back entrance of the tattoo shop. The sound of their footsteps was almost imperceptible, drowned out by the distant hum of traffic.

Jax led the way, gun in hand, as they slipped through the shadows. The back entrance loomed ahead, the door slightly ajar. 

Letty's heart pounded in her chest as she fell into step behind Jax, the familiar rush of danger fuelling her every move - There was no turning back now.

***

Josh adjusted his grip on the tattoo needle, his fingers steady despite the tension rolling through his body. The hum of the machine was a familiar comfort, something that usually calmed him. But not today. Today, every second felt like a countdown, each passing moment heavier than the last.

Weston was laying face down in the chair, the inked lines of a new tattoo taking form on his skin. Josh's eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, then back to the skin under his needle. He had to time this right.

As he pressed the needle into Weston's skin, he purposely pushed it a bit too deep. The reaction was immediate. Weston jerked, letting out a sharp shout of pain, his face twisting into a glare that could've sent anyone else running. Josh, however, had grown used to dealing with difficult customers, though none as dangerous as Weston.

"Shit, man, sorry about that," Josh muttered, pulling back the needle and feigning a sheepish expression. "Didn't mean to go that deep."

Weston's glare didn't waver, but he grunted in acknowledgment, flexing his shoulders as if trying to shake off the pain.

"You should go wash that off, though," Josh instructed, pointing toward the back where the bathroom was. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for Weston to take the bait. Everything depended on this moment. If Weston didn't take the opportunity to step away, the entire plan would fall apart.

Weston stood up, rolling his shoulders as if trying to ease the tension in his back. For a second, Josh felt a flicker of relief. But then, Weston's eyes landed on his son, who was fidgeting in his seat.

"Hey, Duke, you got to piss?" Weston asked, motioning for his son to follow.

Josh's heart sank. Damn it. This was supposed to be easy. Get Weston alone, create an opening for Letty and the others. But now the kid was coming along, and everything was getting more complicated.

He bit back a curse, forcing a smile instead, "Take your time, man," Josh chuckled nervously, trying to sound casual. Inside, his mind was racing, trying to come up with a backup plan. He watched Weston walk toward the back, his son trailing behind, and Josh felt the weight of anxiety crashing down on him - this wasn't going to be as easy as they'd hoped.

As Weston and Duke entered the bathroom, Opie immediately pointed his gun at the man's head and as if on cue, the rest of Samcro emerged. Letty right at her brother's side, both of them cursing under their breath at the sight of the kid, "Jesus." 

Chibs cocked his shot gun, scaring the kid, whose eyes widened in fear as he instinctively moved closer to his father's side, making Letty whack Chibs on the back on the head, shooting him a scolding look. Chibs immediately lowered his gun, hiding it behind his back as he tried for a smile, the kid still visibly shaking and terrified. 

"It's okay, Dukey," Weston assured, placing an arm over his son's shoulders. 

"Get rid of him," Jax ordered, motioning to the kid as he stepped forward, making Weston sigh. 

Weston lowered down to the boy's level, placing a hand on his shoulder as he spoke in a low tone, "Head back, Dukey. I got to talk to these guys. Say nothing, no matter what happens. Understand?" 

Duke nodded rapidly, his eyes still wide in both fear and confusion. 

"You don't ever talk to the cops. I love you," he whispered with a final smile, placing a kiss on top of the boy's head, showing the first shred of humanity Letty had ever seen in him. 

Opie simply opened the door, as Duke made his way out, closing it behind him, his stoic expression returning to his face as they all moved to surround the heavily tattooed man. 

Weston took a step forward, coming face to face with Jax, who gripped his gun tightly, "He never sees this." 

Jax nodded his head firmly, following after Weston as he moved to sit in the stall nearby, his head low and preparing to take the bullet as Jax lifted his gun. But sensing Jax's slight hesitation, Weston's face darkened, looking back up to meet the younger man's gaze, "What are you waiting for?" he hissed through gritted teeth. 

"You're not my kill," Jax simply stated, turning his head, his eyes locking with Letty's, unspoken words lingering in the air between them as he held out his gun for her to take. 

Letty stared at the weapon for a moment, then shook her head, a cold smile tugging at her lips, "I don't need that," she said, her voice steady as she pulled out her knife. The blade gleamed under the flickering light, sharp and deadly. She stepped forward, her footsteps echoing in the empty space, until she was standing directly in front of Weston.

She crouched down to his level, her eyes locking with his, "I want you to beg."

Weston's expression twisted in confusion, "What?"

"You're gonna beg me not to take your miserable life away," Letty hissed, her voice low and venomous.

Weston's lips curled into an evil smirk, the memory of that night flashing in his eyes, "I don't beg. I'm not you," he spat, relishing in the memory of her pleading for him to stop. The look in his eyes was taunting and full of arrogance.

That smirk didn't last long. Letty's knife was at his throat in an instant, pressing into his skin with just enough pressure to make him freeze, "You're gonna get down on your knees," she growled, her voice cold and devoid of emotion. "Or I'm gonna go out there and slit your son's throat right in front of you." 

"Letty," Chibs called out, his voice tense with warning. He stood in the doorway with Jax, their faces pale, but Letty didn't flinch. She was locked in on Weston, her eyes dark and filled with something terrifying.

"Get on your knees," Letty commanded, her tone so calm it was chilling. "You think I'm joking?"

For the first time, Weston saw the darkness in her eyes, the unrelenting determination. He saw that she wasn't bluffing. Slowly and reluctantly, Weston shifted, lowering himself onto his knees, his body trembling with rage and fear.

The knife stayed at his throat, the cold steel biting into his skin, "Now, beg for your life," Letty whispered, leaning in closer, her voice barely audible. "All I have to do is make one phone call to my friend out there, and it's bye-bye, Dukey."

Weston's defiance faltered, "Please," he muttered, his voice shaking. "Please don't. Please don't kill me." 

Letty's lips curled into a smirk, satisfaction flickering in her eyes. She leaned back, her knife still poised, "Just so you know," she said softly, her voice like a blade itself. "You didn't break me. You don't get credit for that. Because you can't break something that's already broken." 

And with that, she drew the blade across his throat in one swift motion. The sound of his blood hitting the floor was the only noise in the room as Weston gasped for air, his hands clutching his neck. His eyes locked with Letty's one final time, as her head was titled to the side, something sinister flashing in her eyes as she watched him slowly bleed out at her feet. 

Letty then stood up, wiping the blood from her knife onto Weston's shirt. She sheathed the blade, her face blank and emotionless as she turned and walked out of the stall. The others watched her in stunned silence, their faces etched with shock and fear. Even the seasoned killers among them found themselves unnerved by the emptiness in her expression.

She didn't look back as she left the room, her footsteps echoing in the hall. For the first time, the guys realised just how much darkness had taken hold of her, and it scared them to their core.

***

The air inside Stockton State Prison always seemed thicker in the cells, heavy with sweat, fear, and the constant threat of violence. Riddle sat on his bunk, flipping through an old magazine, trying to appear relaxed despite the constant tension that came with being inside. His instincts were sharp, though, and he wasn't surprised when he heard footsteps approaching his cell. What did surprise him, however, was seeing Ron Tully standing in the doorway, flanked by two of his Aryan Brotherhood muscle.

Tully's pale blue eyes swept over the cell with casual disdain before landing on Riddle. His smile was thin and dangerous as he stepped inside, "Never heard of you," he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of a man who knew he owned the place. "Then I did hear of you when you fucking killed one of my guys!" 

Riddle leaned back on his bunk, crossing his arms over his chest as a smirk tugged at his lips, "I didn't touch him," he drawled, his tone almost mocking. "I was just the seeing eye dog." He tilted his head slightly, that infuriating smirk still on his face.

Tully's eyes narrowed, the smile never quite reaching them, "Yeah, you still have to pay for it, though."

Before Riddle could respond, Tully's men were on him. One landed a hard punch to his gut, knocking the air out of him and sending him to his knees. The other pressed a shiv to his neck, the cold metal biting into his skin. Riddle winced but didn't show fear. That wasn't his style. Instead, he remained calm, his mind already racing for a way out.

"Not so cocky now, huh?" Tully taunted, stepping closer, enjoying the moment.

But before Tully could give the order to finish him, movement outside the cell caught his attention. Tully turned to see Taino and Ox, flanked by several other inmates of varying races, filling the doorway. Their presence alone shifted the power dynamic in the small space.

Riddle looked up, a grin forming despite the knife at his throat, "Hey, guys," he greeted them casually. "How nice of you to join us."

Taino, standing at the front of the group, shrugged nonchalantly, "Sorry, but I was making new friends." His gaze flicked to the Aryan Brotherhood members. "And they're really not fond of you guys."

The meaning was clear. The alliances Riddle and his crew had formed were stronger than the AB presence in that moment, and the numbers were clearly not in Tully's favour. The Aryan leader's smile faltered just for a second before he took the hint.

Tully nodded slowly, signalling his men to back off. The one holding the shiv pulled it away from Riddle's neck, and the two goons released him, stepping back with wary glances at the other inmates. Tully's eyes locked with Riddle's one more time, cold and calculating.

"This isn't over," Tully warned, his voice low and dangerous.

Riddle, now back on his feet, dusted himself off with an infuriating calmness. "Yeah, it never is," he replied, his tone light but the threat clear beneath it.

With that, Tully and his men turned and left the cell, their retreat deliberate but tense, leaving behind the undeniable promise of future conflict. The moment they were gone, Riddle let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

Taino clapped him on the back, "You good, papi?"

Riddle nodded, his expression hardening as he stared at the empty doorway, "Yeah. But this shit's far from over."

***

The familiar roar of motorbikes and murmured voices welcomed Letty as she pushed open the door to the clubhouse. The scent of leather and smoke wrapped around her, grounding her in a world that was both a comfort and a curse. She moved with purpose through the crowd, her boots heavy against the concrete floor. The air was thick with tension; everyone could sense the darkness radiating off her, but no one dared to say a word.

Her mind was a haze of blood and violence. The adrenaline from killing Weston still pulsed through her veins, but instead of the satisfaction she thought she'd feel, there was only emptiness. 

Coming to a stop near the bar where her father leaned. She didn't need to say a word as she gave him a firm nod, "It's done." 

A large smirk crossed Clay's face, "I am so proud of you, princess," he whispered, cupping the side of her face as he looked into her eyes admiringly. The same eyes that belonged to the love of his life. 

"Zobelle?" 

"Still at the shop. Nomads are watching him. But don't worry, baby, he's as good as dead. I give you my word, I'll kill him myself." 

A small smile graced Letty's face, "I love you, Daddy." 

"I love you too," he murmured, pulling her into a tight embrace, cupping her neck with his large hand as he pressed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. "No one is ever going to hurt you again, baby girl," he said with determination laced in his tone as he pulled back and cupped her face firmly, his stern gaze locked on hers. 

Letty nodded her head, offering a tight smile, "Where's Juice?" 

"In his room." 

Letty immediately moved away from her father, earning a few pats on the back and shoulder from the guys as she made her way towards the dorm rooms, but her arm was caught before she could get too far. 

"Proud of ya, kid," Happy spoke with a rare fondness in his voice. 

A wide smile tugged at the corners of Letty's lips, "Thanks, Hap. I learned from the best," she said, causing a wistful smile to cross Happy's face, but only for a second, as his stoic expression soon returned. 

Charming 

1996

The clubhouse was a place of noise, smoke, and danger - an environment that most kids would have shied away from. But not Letty Morrow. At just Nine years old, she was already a force of nature, fearlessly running through the crowd of bikers like she belonged there. And in a way, she did. Being Clay Morrow's daughter had its perks. But today, Letty wasn't interested in the usual faces around Samcro; today, someone new had caught her eye.

Sitting in the corner, away from the crowd, was a man who didn't seem like the others. He was silent, his gaze cold and calculating as he scanned the room. The patches on his kutte told her everything she needed to know: his name was 'Happy,' though the scowl on his face suggested anything but.

Letty's curiosity got the better of her. She approached him with a boldness that only a kid her age could have, plopping down on the barstool beside him, "Hey!" she chirped, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Your name's Happy, right?"

He didn't look at her at first, just took a long drag from his cigarette before exhaling the smoke slowly. Finally, he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his expression unamused, "Yeah. What's it to you?"

She smiled brightly, "Ironic, don't you think? Because you don't look very happy," she said, roaring with laughter as she clutched her tiny stomach. 

Happy simply raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. 

"Oh, come on?! That was funny."

"You should find something else to do, kid."

Letty ignored the warning in his tone, "What's your real name?"

"Happy," he grunted, clearly not in the mood for small talk.

Letty tilted her head, studying him, "You don't scare me, you know?" 

Happy glanced at her again, this time with a bit more irritation. He was used to scaring people off with a glare or a few choice words, but this kid didn't seem to get the message, "I'm not here to be your friend," he muttered. "You know what I've done?"

Letty leaned in, eyes wide with anticipation, "What? Tell me!"

Happy sighed, leaning back against the bar, "I've hurt people. Real bad. Stuff that would make you cry. That scare you?" he asked, as he pulled out his gun from his holster with ease, holding it up from the girl to see. 

To his surprise, Letty's response wasn't fear or disgust. Instead, she let out a laugh - a genuine, hearty laugh that echoed through the room. She leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with admiration as she examined the gun in his hand, "That's so cool!" she said, her voice filled with awe. "Can I hold it?!" she asked, reaching for the gun excitedly. 

"No!" Happy immediately jerked the gun away from her reach, placing it back in its holster, making Letty pout in disappointment. "What the hell's wrong with you, kid?!" 

But Letty simply grinned wider, "You know what? You're pretty awesome, Happy. Total badass."

He was at a loss for words. Most people took one look at him and steered clear, but this kid...she was different. No matter what he said, or did...it didn't seem to faze her. And, strangely enough, her admiration wasn't something he was used to.

Happy shook his head, trying to hide the smirk threatening to form, "You're weird, kid."

Letty beamed at him, "Yeah, but you like me. I can tell."

He didn't respond to that, just grunted and looked away, but Letty didn't care. She knew she'd won him over in her own way. And from that day forward, she made it her mission to stick close to him whenever he was around.

Letty's hand hovered over the doorknob to Juice's dorm room, taking a moment to gather herself. She didn't want him to see her like this, but she needed him. More than ever. 

***

Juice sat on his bed, his laptop open across his legs, the screen glowing with an image that had his heart racing. He couldn't stop smiling. He'd found it - the dream home he and Letty had been searching for. The house was a little out of town, nestled on a few acres of land. It needed a lot of work, but that didn't bother him. In fact, it made it perfect. The fixer-upper was well within his budget, and he could already see them turning it into something beautiful together. A place to raise a family, away from the chaos that seemed to follow them everywhere.

Just as he was about to bookmark the listing and save the details, he heard the soft creak of his bedroom door. Quickly, Juice closed the laptop, setting it aside as he looked up. His eyes softened when he saw Letty step inside, her face drawn with exhaustion. She looked like she'd been through hell and back, her shoulders slumped as she leaned against the door frame.

"Hey," Juice said gently, his voice filled with concern as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "You okay?" he asked, standing up and moving to meet her halfway. 

She couldn't find the words to respond. Instead, she simply stepped into his arms, pressing her face into his chest. His warmth was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

Juice wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against him. He could feel the tension in her body, the way she trembled just slightly against him. His hand gently rubbed circles on her back, offering comfort in the only way he knew how.

"I did it," she finally whispered, her voice muffled against his chest. "He's dead."

Juice stiffened for a brief moment, but then he exhaled, tightening his hold on her, "Good," he said softly, his voice steady. "He got what he deserved."

Letty pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes dark with the weight of everything she had ever done in her short lifespan, "It didn't feel good, Ju. I thought it would. I thought I'd feel...something. But there's nothing. I still feel...dirty. Broken," she said in a shaky breath as her lip quivered, while a sob escaped the back of her throat. 

Juice reached up, gently cupping her face with his hands, his thumb brushing away her tears, "Because the truth is, it doesn't go away. That darkness you feel...it stays with you. But we gonna get through it together, baby. I promise you, you are not alone, Letty. As long as I'm alive, you will never feel alone again." 

She nodded, though the emptiness in her chest remained. She didn't want to talk about it anymore. She didn't want to think about Weston, or the blood on her hands. All she wanted was to feel something other than this hollow ache inside her.

Without another word, she leaned up and kissed him, desperate for the connection only he could give her. Juice responded immediately, his hands slipping down to her waist, lifting her up from the ground, Letty's legs instinctively wrapped themselves around his waist. He could feel the desperation in her kiss, the need to forget, to escape.

Juice walked her over to his bed, his movements hurried and frantic as he slammed her down, her back colliding with the mattress, his body covering hers as he tried to take away the darkness that clung to her. He kissed her deeply, as if pouring all of his love and strength into her, hoping it would be enough to bring her back from the edge.

For a moment, the world disappeared. There was no blood, no violence, no pain. There was only Juice - his hands, his lips, his warmth. And for that brief moment, Letty allowed herself to get lost in him, to feel something other than the emptiness inside her.

But through the haze of passion, the reality of what she'd done still lingered in the back of her mind. She knew she couldn't run from it forever, but for now, in Juice's arms, she could pretend that everything was going to be okay.

"I love you," Letty breathed out, her head snapped back as Juice's lips travelled down to the crook of her neck as she gripped the leather of his kutte. 

Juice smiled, pressing kisses all over her neck and body, "I love you too, baby," he murmured, his hands caressing her breasts over her shirt. 

Letty pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, as her hand caressed his cheek, "What were you doing before I came in?" she asked, her curiosity piqued by the way he'd quickly stashed his laptop away. 

Juice chuckled, knowing she was teasing him a little bit as she tried to talk about something apart from what they were about to do, as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "Nothing important," he lied smoothly, his smile turning a little mischievous. "Just some club stuff. Nothing that matters right now," he said, letting a light growl escape the back of his throat as bite into his bottom lip, his lustful eyes scanning her body that rested beneath him. 

Letty giggled, "You're right, that's not very interesting. But you know what is?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she continued to tease him, running a finger over his lips, clearly feeling his firm shaft pressing against her inner thigh.  

"Letty...?" Juice breathed out. 

"Yes, baby?" she said, flashing him her innocent smile. 

"Shut the fuck up." And before Letty could even finish her cheeky giggle, Juice pounced forward, capturing her lips in a fiery kiss that was fuelled by his hunger for her. 

For now, the dream house would stay a secret - a surprise for another day. Right now, Letty needed him, and he was more than happy to be her escape.

***

Gemma made her way out of the grocery store, two plastic bags full of groceries in hand. Lifting open the boot, she placed them inside, positioning the lever to keep the boot open. She walked back over to the stalls displayed out the front and examined the fresh watermelons when she caught sight of a small car with a sticker on the back that read, 'Impeccable Smokes'. 

Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, Gemma took slow purposeful steps forward, but stopped dead in her tracks as she spotted a blonde holding a boutique of flowers, examining herself in the florist window. It was her. It had to be. 

"Minivan pulls up behind me. A girl jumps out in a panic."

Letty's voice echoed inside Gemma's head, remembering that night all too well. It was the night her whole world was shattered. 

"Zobelle's daughter." 

She moved quickly out of sight when Polly Zobelle turned around to hop back into her car, while a smirk tugged at the corner of Gemma's lips. Because in that moment, she knew exactly what she needed to do to defend her daughter's honour. 

With quick, determined steps, Gemma made her way over to Tara, who was holding Abel on her hip, while Half-Sack placed the rest of the shopping into the boot. 

"Give me those," Gemma demanded. 

Without argument, Half-Sack handed her the car keys.  

"I'm driving," Gemma said to Tara as she rounded the car and jumped into the driver's seat. 

Tara furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, "Okay," she said, jumping into the passenger seat after she secured Abel in his car seat. 

Tara followed Gemma's line of vision, and realisation overtook her features as she saw a blonde placing her own shopping into the boot of her car. 

"That blonde," she said, turning to address Gemma. "Letty chased her down main street. Who the hell is that, Gemma?" 

Gemma's jaw tightened, her eyes never leaving the girl, who was now climbing into the front seat of her vehicle, "Zobelle's daughter." 

Tara's eyes almost jumped out of their sockets, "The one who told Letty her baby was choking," she said in realisation. 

"Yep. The one that hit her over the head," she sneered in disdain, her grip tightening on the steering will as she felt the rage swarm inside her. Starting the car, she prepared to pull of the curb and trail the bitch back to wherever she was going looking like that; breast popping and showing off enough skin that didn't leave much to the imagination. 

Tara tensed beside the determined woman, a wave of anxiety washing over her, "Where are we going?" 

Gemma finally turned to Tara, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips, "Forward, sweetheart." Was all she said as she pulled onto the road and followed after the blonde, Half-Sack trailing behind them on his Harley Davidson. 

***

Gemma and Tara pulled up to a suburban street behind Polly Zobelle, who was parked a few metres ahead of them, jumping out of her car with the boutique in hand as she flattened out her denim skirt. 

"What are we doing here, Gemma?" Tara asked, the anxiety still hanging heavy in her chest. "That rape would have destroyed most women, but it made Letty; stronger, wiser, more compassionate. Whatever it is you think you have to do to defend your daughter, you don't have to, because she's past it now." 

"My daughter," Gemma whispered, her eyes never leaving the girl, who was striding down the street, her head held high without a care in the world. "My son. My husband. My whole family. They're out there risking their lives, their freedom all for Letty. They ripped her open." Her voice broke as her lip quivered, tears stinging her eyes as she continued. "This is how I do my part. God's put her in my path, so I can do what's right, for her. I'm supposed to do this for my baby girl. To be the fierce mother she always deserved."  

Tara looked at the woman in bewilderment, a cold chill running through her body, terrified at the words leaving Gemma's mouth, "Jesus," she breathed out. "Do you even hear what you're saying?" 

Gemma simply turned to face her, placing a hand on top of hers as a grateful smile graced her face, "Get my grandson home safe. Love you, Tara. Thank you so much for being there for my girl." 

"Gemma, please don't do this--" Tara pleaded, her voice breaking as tears welled in her eyes.  

Gemma leaned over the centre compartment, grabbing both of Tara's hands in a tight grip, "I'll be okay," she assured her, cupping her face with both hands as she placed a kiss on her cheek. "I'll be okay," she whispered one last time, before jumping out of the car and following after her target, who was blissfully unaware of what she was about to walk into. 

"Hey," Half-Sack called out, crossing the road, making his way over to Tara, who was heading for the driver's seat. "Where's she going?" he asked, motioning over to Gemma's retreating form. 

"Stay here," Tara said, her arms folded across her chest as she watched the woman leave. "She may need to get out fast." 

"Oh, shit," Half-Sack breathed out in realisation.  

***

Letty straddled Juice, her body flush against his as she kissed him deeply, drowning in the feeling of him beneath her. They had been here a hundred times before - lost in each other, the world around them melting away until nothing else mattered but the connection they shared. Her hands roamed over his bare chest, fingers tracing the tattoos she knew so well. Juice's hands were equally eager, sliding up her sides as he pulled her closer, wanting more.

As their clothes began to find their way to the floor, the heat between them intensified. Letty shifted, positioning herself on top of him, her breath heavy as she looked down at Juice with a wicked smirk. He grinned back at her, his hands gripping her hips as he leaned up to kiss her again.

Just as they were about to lose themselves completely, Letty's phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand, breaking the spell. Letty groaned in frustration, her forehead dropping to Juice's shoulder, "Of course," she muttered, reluctantly reaching over to grab the device. She glanced at the screen and saw the name 'Sweet Cheeks' appear. With a sigh, she answered, still half out of breath.

"This better be important, you're interrupting Juice time," she said, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice but failing miserably. 

"Letty, thank God!" Half-Sack's voice was frantic on the other end. "Gemma's about to do something stupid. You need to get here now!" 

Letty immediately sat up straighter, the urgency in his voice snapping her out of her haze, "Where?" she demanded, already reaching for her clothes.

"I'm texting you the address. Hurry!" Half-Sack hung up, and within seconds, her phone buzzed again with the location.

Juice sat up, concern crossing his face as he watched Letty quickly get dressed, "What's going on?" he asked, his tone serious now.

Letty gave him a quick, apologetic smile, "My mother," she said simply, pulling her shirt over her head. "What else?"

Juice sighed, shaking his head with a mix of understanding, "Gemma."

She leaned down to kiss him, her lips lingering on his for a moment before she pulled back, "I'm sorry, Ju," she said with a playful smirk. "But you can put a baby in me later."

Juice chuckled, the tension easing slightly as he watched her grab her boots, "Hey, I was serious about that!" he called after her as she rushed for the door.

Letty glanced back over her shoulder with a wink, "So was I," she replied, her voice teasing as she disappeared down the hall.

Juice dropped back onto the pillow, a contented smile spreading across his face. Even with the interruption, there was something about Letty's energy that left him feeling satisfied. He stared up at the ceiling, already imagining the moment they'd pick up where they left off.

***

Stahl was pacing back and forth inside the small home belonging to Edmond Hayes, she was in a state of panic, having no idea what to do. She had just shot Edmond in cold blood. Her job not to mention her life was all over if this got out. She had to come up with a plan to dig herself out of this hole she had dug herself. 

At the sound of knocking, the woman's head whipped around frantically, as she saw the silhouette of a girl through the curtains over the small box window of the front door. 

"Edmond!" the feminine voice called from the other side. 

Panicked and wide-eyed, Stahl wasted no time to slip into the back room, hiding behind a wall, out of sight. 

Which was a good choice, as moments later, the door opened and the girl slipped inside, "Eddy?" she called once more. "It's me." 

As Polly moved further into the house, Stahl stayed close to the wall, gun firmly in hand, ready to shoot if need be. 

"Edmond, are you here?" Polly called from the kitchen, her bag being placed down on the counter, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she surveyed the house - there was no sign of him anywhere. "Where are you?" 

Suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks as she caught sight of her boyfriend lying lifeless on the floor, blood staining the carpet beneath him. 

"Eddie?" her voice cracked with emotion, her eyes welling with unshed tears preparing to flow like an uncontrollable tap. "Oh, God," she gasped, taking slow steps towards the man she loved. But before she could reach him, she heard the slightest noise coming from inside the room where he lay. 

Stahl was quick to grab the lamp she knocked before it hit the floor as she mentally facepalmed herself. 

Following her instincts and everything her dad taught her, Polly moved to grab her gun from her handbag, holding it firmly with two hands, she strode forward, all senses on high alert, ready to pull the trigger if need be. 

But before she could even step into the back room to find who was hiding behind the wall, someone else entered the house - Gemma Teller, gun at the ready. 

"Put down the gun," she ordered, pointing it directly at the blonde. 

Polly's head whipped around, her eyes wide in realisation, "You're the one that killed him," she said in defeat, lowering her gun and shoulders. 

"Turn around," Gemma demanded, kicking the door closed and stepping further into the house, gun firmly raised. 

Polly simply turned to look at the pale and lifeless face of her boyfriend as she slowly lifted the gun to her temple, but the stern and unforgiving voice of the Teller woman stopped her. 

"Turn around!" 

Polly quickly turned around, her gun raised, but before she could pull the trigger, Gemma did, hitting her square in the chest. Polly let out one final groan, before she hit the floor. 

Gemma lowered her gun, moving towards the body ever-so-slowly, missing Stahl, who was still positioned in the other room, now with a smirk plastered across her face. 

Plopping herself down on the couch, she let out a long sigh, but before she could even think of relaxing, Stahl came out of the shadows, her gun aimed right at her. 

Gemma raised her hand in surrender, glancing behind the agent, noticing the bloody body staining the carpet, making her raise an eyebrow, "Bloody day for both of us." 

"Push the gun on the floor," Stahl ordered, not missing a beat. 

Gemma did just that, pushing it off the armrest where it sat. 

Keeping the gun locked on Gemma, Stahl leaned down and grabbed the gun from Polly's body and moved with ease over to sit on the coffee table across from Gemma, "Was she involved in the rape?" 

Gemma simply avoided the woman's gaze, like she gave a shit what happened to her family. 

"I'm sorry that that happened to your daughter. She seems like a lovely person," she said with her signature, sinister smirk. 

"Shut up," Gemma hissed, shooting a glare the woman's way, which only made her smirk widen. "What happens now?" 

Stahl took a moment to think about it, before she motioned to the back door, "Go. I'll give you some time to slip away." 

Gemma furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and suspicion, "Why would you do that?" 

"At least tell your daughter the good news before we pick you up. But head out the back. Avoid my guys in the front." 

Gemma sat there contemplating it for a minute. There was no way she could trust this bitch, but it was the best chance she had. 

"I'm giving you a chance. Go!" 

Gemma grabbed her bag, swung it over her shoulder as she made her way to the back door, but Stahl called out to her, stopping her in her tracks, "Hey!" 

Gemma turned around and immediately Stahl threw her a gun, that she instinctively caught, "What are you doing?" she asked, frowning in confusion. 

"You need to put down the gun," she simply said, raising the gun she collected from Polly and aiming it at the woman. 

Gemma examined the gun in her hand, shaking her head in disbelief, "Goddamn," she scoffed. "You are a smart bitch," she said, impressed as she dropped the gun to the floor. 

Stahl simply smirked, gun still raised, "Clock's ticking, darling." 

Gemma didn't waste anymore time as she slipped out the back door. Now wanted for a double homicide.  

***

In the dim light of their shared cell, Riddle sat on the edge of his bunk, his back exposed to his best mate, Taino. The steady buzz of a makeshift tattoo gun filled the cramped space, punctuated by the occasional grunt of pain from Riddle.

Taino worked with practiced precision, his hands steady despite the makeshift nature of their tools. With each stroke of the needle, a piece of Prince's memory was etched into Riddle's skin, a permanent tribute to the young man who had become like a son to him.

As the tattoo took shape, Riddle's mind drifted back to the memories he shared with Prince; the late-night chess games, the quiet moments of camaraderie amidst the chaos of prison life. He could still hear Prince's laughter echoing in the recesses of his mind, a bittersweet reminder of what had been lost.

"There," Taino said finally, wiping away the excess ink with a damp cloth. "All done."

Riddle glanced over his shoulder, his eyes falling on the intricate design now emblazoned on his skin. It was a simple yet powerful symbol: a chess piece, a knight, with Prince's initials woven into the design.

"It's perfect," Riddle whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He traced a finger over the tattoo, feeling the raised lines beneath his touch. In that moment, he felt a sense of closure, a tangible connection to the memory of his fallen friend.

Taino clapped him on the back, a silent gesture of solidarity between brothers-in-arms, "He would've been proud, Rid," he said, his voice soft but filled with conviction.

Riddle nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. For in that solitary moment, amidst the confines of their shared cell, he found solace in the knowledge that Prince's memory would live on, forever etched into the fabric of his being.

***

The low rumble of Letty's Harley echoed through the quiet street as she pulled up, spotting Half-Sack pacing nervously by the curb. He looked up as she approached, relief washing over his face. She killed the engine and swung her leg off the bike, her boots landing with a thud on the pavement.

"What the hell did my mother do now?!" Letty demanded, yanking off her helmet and striding toward Half-Sack.

Half-Sack wiped his brow, his nerves on full display, "Gemma," he stammered. "She's...she's lost the plot!"

Letty's eyes narrowed, "What the hell did she do, Kip?!" 

"She's going after Zobelle's daughter. Like, full-on, guns blazing," Half-Sack explained, his voice barely a whisper as if speaking louder would make it more real. "Tara tried to talk her down, but she didn't listen. I...I didn't know who else to call."

Letty let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through her hair, "Shit. Where is she?"

"Last I saw, she was heading toward Edmond's," Half-Sack said. "She's pissed, Letty. Like, more than usual."

Letty cursed under her breath, looking around as if expecting Gemma to come storming down the street any minute now, "Alright, let's go find her," she said, her voice firm. "We can't let her do this alone."

But just as they turned to get back on their bikes, a wail of sirens pierced the air. Letty and Half-Sack froze, their heads snapping in the direction of the sound. Within seconds, multiple patrol cars sped down the street, lights flashing as they tore past them.

"Fuck," Letty muttered, her heart rate kicking up. "We gotta move. Now!" 

Half-Sack nodded, already scrambling onto his bike as Letty did the same. She jammed her helmet back on and revved the engine, the powerful roar of her Harley drowning out the sound of the sirens. Without another word, they peeled out onto the street, racing in the opposite direction of the flashing lights.

Speeding through the back roads, they weaved through alleyways and side streets to avoid any more cops. Letty's mind was racing just as fast as her bike, the weight of Gemma's potential recklessness hanging heavy in the air.

Unbeknownst to them, Cameron Hayes trailed close behind them, a cold, calculating look in his eyes - he wasn't about to let them slip away that easily.

***

Opie stood by his bike in the lot, strapping on his kutte and gearing up for another ride into chaos. The sound of engines roared around him. Jax, Chibs, Clay, Piney, Tig, Bobby, Happy and the others were ready to move, waiting on Opie to join them. But before he left, there was one more thing he needed to do.

He turned, spotting Cleo standing a few yards away, arms crossed, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. She always hated this part - the waiting, the worry, the not knowing if he'd come back the same way he left. Or at all.

Opie crossed the distance between them in a few strides, his boots crunching against the gravel. As he approached, Cleo unfolded her arms and met him halfway, her eyes searching his face for any sign of reassurance.

"You're going after him again, aren't you?" Cleo asked, her voice steady despite the worry she couldn't hide.

Opie nodded, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, "Yeah," he admitted, his deep voice gruff but soft for her. "We got word Zobelle's on the move. We can't let him get away, Clee."

Cleo swallowed, her jaw clenched, but she didn't argue. She knew better than to try and stop him - it wasn't in his nature to stand down when it came to protecting/defending Letty, but that didn't make it any easier to watch him walk away, again and again.

"Just...be careful, Ope," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Opie's gaze softened as he stepped closer, cupping her face in his large, calloused hands, "I'll be careful, I promise," he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers.

For a moment, they stood there in the fading light, the noise of the clubhouse fading into the background as they shared this brief, stolen moment. Opie leaned down, brushing his lips against hers in a tender kiss, one that lingered just a little longer than usual. It was his way of saying goodbye, just in case.

Cleo's hands came up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath the leather. She didn't want to let him go, but she knew she had to, "I'll be here when you get back," she whispered against his lips, her voice firm with determination.

Opie pulled back slightly, his brown eyes locking onto hers, "You better be," he rumbled, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

With one last kiss, he released her and stepped back, the weight of the world settling back onto his broad shoulders. Cleo watched as he turned and walked back toward his bike, the easy smile fading as his focus shifted to the task ahead.

As Opie mounted his bike and revved the engine, he glanced back at her one last time, their eyes meeting across the lot. She gave him a small nod, the unspoken words of 'come back to me' hanging in the air between them.

Then, with a roar, Opie and the others took off, leaving Cleo standing alone, watching them disappear into the distance. 

***

Tara was placing some of the groceries away into the cupboard when the sound of the back door opening startled her, making her whip around, "Jax?!" she called out. 

"It's just us," Letty said, as her and Half-Sack came into view, stepping into the kitchen. 

Tara furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, noticing someone missing, "Where's Gemma?" 

"Fucked if we know," Letty muttered, letting out a deep, frustrated sigh, running a hand through her hair as she started to pace the kitchen. 

"Feds raided the house," Half-Sack explained. "We had to leave." 

"Oh, shit!" Tara hissed, running a hand through her own hair. 

"You better call Jax," Half-Sack said to Letty, making her sigh once more. 

"Yeah, I know," she grumbled, stuffing her hands into her jacket pocket and pulling out her phone. Scrolling through her contacts, she hesitated, her thumb hovering over Jax's contact for a second, before pressing down on it and placing the device to her ear, listening to the dial tone until her brother's voice filled her ears moments later. 

"Hey, Letty. Where are you?" 

"Dealing with our mother." The frustration was evident in her tone, making Jax chuckle. 

"What did she do now?" 

"She's completely lost her mind--" But Letty paused, her eyes wide as she turned around and was met with a gun waved in her face. Cameron Hayes stood in front of her, his hand tightly gripping his gun, dry tears staining his cheeks as his whole face was contorted in a furious expression. 

"Hang up the phone," he ordered. 

Tara let out a loud scream when she spotted the man, instinctively stepping back as Half-Sack moved to stand protectively in front of her. 

"Tara?! Letty, what the hell was that?!" Jax's voice was edged with panic. The sound of Tara's terror made his heart race, and his grip on the phone tightened.

"Jesus Christ! I gotta call you back," Letty said, before Cameron snatched the phone off her and hung it up, tossing it across the room, causing it to smash against the wall. 

***

Outside the Deli Mart, Samcro were surveying the area, waiting for a clear shot to get to Zobelle, who was hiding inside. Jax was off to the side, phone pressed to his ear, listening as the line went dead.

Jax's face went pale, his heart pounding as his grip tightened on his phone, "Letty? Letty!" he shouted into the void, but there was no response.

Juice, who had been watching Jax with growing concern, moved closer, "Jax, what's wrong?" His voice was urgent, tinged with worry. 

Jax looked up, his expression a mix of fear and frustration, "I don't know, but something's wrong." 

Juice's face turned ashen, panic seizing him as he realised the gravity of the situation, "Shit, we need to go. Now!"

Clay, who had been nearby, overheard the exchange and stepped forward, "What's going on?" he demanded, concern clear in his voice.

"Something's wrong," Jax said quickly, the urgency in his voice unmistakable. "We got to go."

Without waiting for a response, Jax turned and headed for his bike. The mission was forgotten - his only focus now was getting to Letty and Tara. The sense of dread was overwhelming, pushing him to act faster than he ever had.

"Jax, wait!" Opie called out, catching up with Jax as he mounted his bike, his own worry mirroring Jax's. "I'm coming with youse." 

Chibs, who had been quietly assessing the situation, gave a grim nod and followed suit, "Me too," he said, mounting his bike.

Juice was already on his bike, his face set in a determined expression. He revved his engine, as he was the first one who pulled onto the road, the others close behind.

Clay watched as the group sped off, his own concern evident. But he trusted Jax and the others with his daughter's life - they wouldn't let anything happen to her. 

As the bikes roared down the road, the wind rushing past them, each member of the club was consumed with the same thought: hope they weren't too late. Every second counted as they raced toward Jax's house, the fear and urgency driving them faster.

***

The tension in Jax's kitchen was palpable, every breath held like a time bomb waiting to go off. Cameron stood with a gun in one hand, wild eyes darting between his three hostages. The muzzle pointed directly at them, forcing them into submission. 

"Sit down," he ordered, his voice hard and cold.

Tara and Half-Sack complied immediately, sinking into the dining chairs. But Letty didn't move. She stood, arms crossed as she stared Cameron down.

"No," she shot back.

"Letty, sit down," Tara urged, her voice trembling with fear.

Letty remained still, her gaze fixed on Cameron, "What? No. He doesn't scare me." Her voice was calm, almost dismissive. She turned to Cameron with a sneer, "You don't scare me. I've been through a hell of a lot worse than you, boldy. So, go ahead, shoot me. 'Cause you don't scare me one bit."

"Oh, my God, I knew you were gonna be the death of me, Letty Morrow," Half-Sack groaned, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

"No one is dying today," Letty declared, her voice cutting through the tension. But her defiance only seemed to rile Cameron further.

Without warning, Cameron lunged forward, grabbing Tara and pressing a knife he had grabbed from the holder on the kitchen counter against her throat. Tara gasped, fear flashing across her face as the cold steel bit into her skin.

"Jesus Christ, I should've let you die," Letty muttered under her breath, frustration mixing with fear for her friend's life. She took a deep breath, trying to find some way to defuse the situation.

Cameron's voice cracked as he spoke, rage barely contained, "Gemma killed my Eddie. Figured maybe I kill an old lady, even the score."

Half-Sack tensed, ready to jump to Tara's aid, but Letty's voice stopped him in his tracks, "Sit your ass down, sweet cheeks," she ordered, raising her hands in surrender as she faced Cameron. "Okay, I get that you're upset. But killing an old lady isn't going to do shit. You want revenge, you want to hurt the club? My name is Letitia Loraine Morrow. I'm the daughter of Clay and Loraine Morrow. Raised by Gemma Teller and Filip Telford. The sister of Jax Teller. You want revenge? You want to leave a real scare? Then why don't you take down their princess. Kill me instead. But you let them go."

"Letty!" Half-Sack's voice was filled with horror, but his protest came too late.

In an instant, Cameron released Tara, his grip tightening on the knife as he yanked Letty over to him, pressing the blade against her throat. She could feel the sharp steel bite into her skin, the coldness of it sending a shiver down her spine. But she didn't flinch.

Half-Sack couldn't take it anymore. With a burst of adrenaline, he surged forward, pushing Letty out of Cameron's grasp. But in his desperation, Cameron reacted, driving the blade deep into Half-Sack's stomach. The young prospect staggered, falling to the floor with a choked cry.

"Kip!" Letty screamed, sliding to the ground to catch him before his head hit the floor. Panic filled her eyes as she pressed her hands against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God," she whispered, her voice trembling as she tried to hold herself together.

Half-Sack's breathing was shallow, his face pale with fear, "Letty...I don't want to die...I'm not ready to die..." His voice was a whisper, filled with the raw terror of someone facing death far too soon.

Tears streamed down Letty's face as she cradled him in her arms, desperately trying to save him, "You're not gonna die, baby. Okay? I promise you. I'm right here. I'm not gonna let you die."

Charming 

2008

The clubhouse was quieter than usual, a rarity in itself. Letty made her way down the hallway, heading toward her room. The muffled sounds of the TV in the bar area filtered through the walls, but something else caught her attention - a soft sound, barely there, like someone trying to hide their tears.

She paused, her gaze landing on a door left slightly ajar. It was Half-Sack's room. Through the crack, she saw him sitting on the edge of his bed, his shoulders hunched, face buried in his hands as he tried to stifle his sobs. Letty's heart clenched at the sight. Cherry had just left for Belfast, running from the law for charges of theft and arson, and it looked like the weight of it had finally hit him.

For a moment, Letty debated leaving him alone. But that wasn't her style. She couldn't just walk past someone hurting and do nothing. So, with a soft sigh, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"Hey," she called out softly, her voice gentle.

Half-Sack's head shot up, his red-rimmed eyes widening in surprise, before he quickly wiped at his face, trying to compose himself, "Letty...what do you want?"

She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, crossing her arms with a small smile, "I was just heading to my room, but then I heard something that sounded suspiciously like a guy trying to hide the fact that he's crying."

Half-Sack looked away, embarrassed, "Yeah, well...Cherry's gone. And it sucks."

Letty walked over to him, sitting down beside him on the bed, "I know it does. I'm sorry she had to leave. I kind of liked her. She was cool." 

Half-Sack shrugged, but the sadness in his eyes was unmistakable, "I just...I don't know what to do now, you know? She's gone, and I'm stuck here. Alone."

Letty placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly, "You're not alone, sweet cheeks. You've got the club, and me," she said, trying for a smile. "And for what it's worth, I know how you feel. It sucks losing someone you care about. But when I get upset or overwhelmed...I like to dance it out."

He blinked, glancing at her in confusion, "Dance it out?"

She grinned, standing up and moving over to the small stereo in the corner of his room, "Yeah. Whenever I feel like the world's too heavy, I just put on some music and dance. It helps me clear my head."

Letty flipped through the CDs stacked next to the stereo, finding one she liked. She popped in the disc and pressed play. The soft, melodic strains of Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls filled the room. She turned back to him, holding out her hand with a playful smirk, "Come on, sweet cheeks. Dance with me."

Half-Sack looked at her like she was crazy, which wasn't all that unusual for her, "Letty, I'm not really in the mood to--"

"Exactly," she cut him off. "That's why you need to do this. Trust me, it'll make you feel better."

He hesitated, but something in her smile made it hard to say no. With a sigh, he took her hand and stood up, "Alright, fine. But if anyone finds out about this, I'm blaming you."

Letty chuckled as she pulled him into the middle of the room, "Deal."

At first, Half-Sack moved awkwardly, clearly not used to dancing or being in this situation. But Letty didn't care about that. She just swayed to the music, letting the rhythm guide her, and slowly but surely, Half-Sack began to loosen up. They started spinning around the room, their laughter echoing off the walls as they got lost in the music. The weight of Cherry's departure seemed to lift, if only for a moment.

Before long, they were both laughing so hard they could barely stand. Letty twirled around, her hair flying as Half-Sack tried to keep up, his own smile growing wider with each passing second.

By the time the song ended, they were both breathless, collapsing onto the bed in a fit of giggles. Half-Sack wiped a tear from his eye, but this time, it wasn't from sadness.

"You're crazy, you know that?" he said between laughs.

Letty grinned, giving him a playful nudge, "Yeah, but it worked, didn't it? You feel better, right?"

Half-Sack shook his head, but there was a genuine smile on his face now, "Yeah...Yeah, I do. Thanks, Letty."

She leaned back on the bed, catching her breath, "Anytime, sweet cheeks. Anytime you need to dance it out, you know where to find me."

He nodded, a newfound appreciation in his eyes as he looked at her, "Same goes for you. If you ever need a dance partner...I'm your guy," he said, pointing both thumbs to his chest. 

Letty smirked, giving him a wink, "I'll hold you to that."

"Get up!" Cameron barked, pointing the gun at her head, his voice laced with frustration.

"My hand is the only thing keeping him from bleeding out right now!" she screamed up at the man, her tears running down her face like an uncontrollable tap. 

"I don't care!" he roared back, his grip tightening on his deadly weapon. "I said, get up!"

"No," Letty growled, her voice full of defiance. "The only way I'm gonna let go of this pressure is if you shoot me in the head. So, go ahead, do it already! Shoot me, you coward!" 

Cameron's hand shook slightly as he firmly pressed the barrel of the gun against Letty's temple, but the girl didn't flinch as she looked him dead in the eye, Cameron's finger hovering over the trigger. 

Half-Sack's grip on her hand tightened as he pulled out the dog tag Cherry had given him, which he kept close to his heart in the pocket of his kutte, placing it in Letty's hand. His voice was weak, but determined, "Tell Cherry...I love her," he croaked. "I never stopped." Before she could react, Half-Sack pulled her hand away from his wound and shoved her out of the way, his final act of sacrifice.

Letty's back collided with the kitchen cabinet, watching in horror as her friend bled out on the floor, "No! Kip!" She scrambled back to him, her hands trembling as she tried to revive him, but it was too late - Half-Sack was gone.

Tara rushed over, trying to comfort her as Letty cradled Half-Sack's lifeless body, sobbing uncontrollably. The weight of the loss crushed her, the grief suffocating.

Cameron's eyes shifted to the baby carrier on the counter, where Abel lay peacefully unaware. A twisted smile spread across his face as he muttered, "Ha. Son for a son."

Letty's head snapped up, horror filling her eyes as she realised his intent, "No!" She lunged toward him, desperate to protect her nephew, but before she could reach him, a gunshot rang out and the sound of Tara's screams lingered in the air.

***

The roar of motorcycles echoed through the streets of Charming as Jax, Juice, Opie and Chibs pulled up to the Teller residence, their hearts pounding with dread as they spotted the shattered front door.

Racing inside, they were met with a scene of chaos and horror. Tara lay bound and gagged on the floor, tears streaming down her face. Abel cried out in fear from his carrier nearby. And then they saw him - Half-Sack, lying lifeless on the ground in a pool of his own blood. Chibs immediately dropped to his knees beside him, crying over his beloved friend. 

But Letty was nowhere to be found.

"Where's Letty?" Jax demanded, his voice hoarse with panic as he knelt beside Tara, his hands trembling as he reached out to untie her.

Tara's eyes met Juice's, anguish etched in every line of her face, "She's gone," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of Abel's cries. "He took her."

Juice fists clenched at his sides, his mind reeling with disbelief and rage, "Who? Who took Letty?"

Tara swallowed hard, her eyes flickering with guilt and sorrow, "I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "Some Irish guy." 

"Cameron?" Chibs raised an eyebrow, putting the pieces together. 

"He thought Gemma killed his son," Tara continued to explain. "He wanted revenge on the club. Letty...Letty sacrificed herself to save Abel."

Juice's heart shattered into a million pieces as the truth sank in. Letty, his Letty, was out there somewhere, in the clutches of a madman, all because she had chosen to protect Abel, to protect her family.

Amidst the wreckage of the house, Juice's eyes fell upon a glimmer of silver on the ground - the necklace he had given Letty, the one engraved with the words 'ride or die'. A tear rolled down his cheek as he picked it up, his fingers trembling as he clutched it tightly in his hand - she wasn't wearing it.

The realisation hit him like a punch to the gut, a cold knot of fear tightening in his chest. Letty, the love of his life, was out there alone, facing God knows what kind of horrors, and he couldn't protect her.

Charming 

2008

Juice walked into the small jewellery store tucked away in the corner of the strip mall, his eyes scanning the display cases. This wasn't his usual scene, but today wasn't about him. Today was about Letty. He needed something special, something that would show her exactly how much she meant to him. Something that would be a constant reminder that no matter what happened, they were in this together.

The bell above the door chimed as it closed behind him, and an older woman behind the counter greeted him with a warm smile.

"Looking for anything specific?" she asked, her voice soft and welcoming.

Juice hesitated for a moment, running his hand over the back of his shaved head. He hadn't been sure what he wanted when he walked in, but now, an idea was starting to form in his mind.

"Yeah," he said, his voice steadying. "I need something...meaningful. For my girl. Something that says 'we're in this together, no matter what'."

The woman nodded as if she understood exactly what he was looking for. She reached beneath the counter and pulled out a tray of necklaces, each one unique in its own way.

Juice's eyes drifted over the pieces, but none of them felt right until he spotted one at the edge of the tray. It was simple - a delicate silver necklace with a scythe pendant and the words 'Ride or Die' engraved on it. But it wasn't the complexity that mattered; it was the meaning behind those words. Their secret phrase, the words they whispered to each other in the dead of night or during a spontaneous midnight ride; a promise of love and loyalty that ran deeper than any vow.

"This one," Juice said, pointing to the necklace. The woman carefully lifted it out of the tray, holding it up for him to get a closer look.

"Good choice," she said, smiling. "It's small but powerful. A promise."

Juice nodded, feeling a warmth spread through his chest, "Yeah, that's exactly it. A promise."

He paid for the necklace, slipping it into his pocket, and as he walked towards the exit, he imagined the look on Letty's face when he'd give it to her. She wasn't one for big, flashy gifts, but this...this was different. This was something she could wear every day, something that would always remind her that he was by her side, no matter what.

But as he was about to step out of the store, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness about presenting the necklace to Letty, when something caught his eye.

Inside a display case, nestled among a collection of gleaming jewellery, was a single engagement ring. Its solitaire diamond caught the light, sparkling with a brilliance that made Juice's heart skip a beat. It was as if it was calling out to him, demanding his attention.

He turned abruptly, his mind racing. The decision to propose wasn't something he was planning to do any time soon, God, they have only been dating for barely a couple months, but seeing that ring, he felt an overwhelming sense of urgency and clarity. It was as if the universe was giving him a nudge, reminding him of the commitment, deep down, he knew he wanted to make.

"Excuse me," Juice called out, his voice eager as he beckoned the older lady over. She approached with a warm smile, her eyes kind and patient. "I was wondering if I could take a look at that ring in the display case?"

The lady's smile widened, her eyes twinkling with understanding, "Of course, dear. I'll get it for you right away."

As she retrieved the ring and placed it on the counter in front of him, Juice's fingers trembled slightly. He looked at the ring, its simplicity and elegance striking a chord deep within him. He imagined Letty's hand slipping into it, the way it would look on her finger, and how it would signify the next step in their lives together.

"I'll take it," Juice said, his voice steady now, though his heart was pounding with excitement and a bit of nerves. The thought of proposing to Letty filled him with both joy and a sense of purpose.

The older lady nodded, clearly pleased, "A beautiful choice once again. I'm sure she'll love it."

Juice nodded, feeling a surge of happiness. He could already envision the look on Letty's face when he presented the ring to her, and it made his heart swell.

As he left the store with both the necklace and the engagement ring securely in hand, Juice felt a renewed sense of excitement. The future was still uncertain, but one thing was clear: he wanted Letty to be a part of his forever.

Juice looked down at the necklace in his hand, and he knew one thing for certain - no matter what, he would find her. He would bring her back to safety, back to him, where she belonged.

For their love was unbreakable, their bond forged in the fires of chaos and danger, and nothing - not even Cameron Hayes - could tear them apart.

***

Clay stood outside the deli mart, his gaze locked on Zobelle through the large glass windows. The air was charged with the tension of the standoff, a heavy weight pressing down on everyone involved. His phone rang, cutting through the cacophony of murmurs and footsteps. Clay's fingers, steady despite the chaos around him, answered the call. His voice was firm, yet carried a thread of anticipation, "Everything all right, son?" 

The line crackled with static before Jax's urgent voice broke through, "I need you." 

Clay's heart sank as the severity of Jax's tone pierced through the noise. His face went ashen, the colour draining from his cheeks as dread replaced the focus of his gaze. He didn't waste a moment. Without a word, he ended the call and turned abruptly to Bobby and Tig, who were stationed nearby, "We gotta go." 

Tig, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Clay's demeanour, raised a questioning eyebrow, "What? Zobelle's unprotected." 

Clay's eyes, usually a steady force of calm, were now ablaze with a fierce, almost primal urgency. His voice was clipped, edged with a raw intensity that conveyed the depth of his concern, "The Irish took my daughter." 

The revelation hit Bobby and Tig like a sledgehammer. Bobby's eyes widened in disbelief, while Tig's expression twisted into a scowl of shock and anger. The seriousness of Clay's words was undeniable, and the urgency in his tone left no room for hesitation.

"Shit," Bobby hissed, his eyes wide. 

Clay didn't wait for any further discussion. He turned on his heel, with a determined stride toward his Harley. His movements were propelled by a desperate urgency, fuelled by the fear for his daughter's safety. Bobby and Tig, understanding the gravity of the situation, followed close behind. 

Clay mounted his bike with practiced ease, the roar of the engine echoing through the night as he revved it to life. Bobby and Tig climbed onto their own bikes, their engines growling in response. The trio tore out of the parking lot, the asphalt blurring beneath their wheels.

As they sped through the streets, Clay's focus was unyielding as they raced towards the coordinates Jax had relayed. The urgency in Clay's heart was matched only by the resolve in his mind. His daughter's safety was paramount, and he would do whatever it took to ensure she was brought back unharmed.

With each mile they covered, the roar of the engines seemed to merge with the pounding of Clay's heart. The ride was a blur of adrenaline and fear, the stakes higher than ever. Cameron Hayes would soon find out just how far Clay Morrow was willing to go to protect his daughter.

As the bikes cut through the night, Clay's thoughts were solely on Letty. The drive to find her before it was too late consumed him entirely. He had no intention of letting her get hurt again. With every twist and turn of the road, Clay's determination grew stronger, with one purpose: to bring Letty home.

***

The backseat of Cameron's car felt like a cage to Letty, her heart wrenching sobs filling the air. Her hands were bound behind her back as she trembled, tears streaming down her face, her grief heavy. 

Cameron, seated in the front, glanced back at her with an impatient scowl, "Shut up and stop crying," he snapped, his voice sharp. 

Her eyes were fierce behind the tears, filled with a mix of anger and sadness, "You just killed my friend! So forgive me if I can't control my emotions right now!"

Cameron's irritation grew, but he didn't respond. He focused on driving, his expression hardened. Letty's words seemed to fuel her pain, the reality of Half-Sack's death sinking in deeper with every passing moment.

As Cameron continued driving, Letty's gaze fell on the window beside her. She saw the blurred landscape outside, and it triggered a flood of memories. Her tears flowed more freely now as she drifted into a recollection of Half-Sack, a beacon of kindness in her troubled life.

In her memory, she saw Half-Sack's smiling face, his warm laugh echoing in her mind. He was always the one to lift her spirits, offering comfort when she needed it most. She remembered their shared moments of laughter, his kind-hearted nature, and the way he had become a loyal friend. The image of him, so full of life and joy, contrasted sharply with the emptiness she felt now.

Charming 

2008

The sun had just started to set, casting a warm orange glow over Letty's quiet neighbourhood. She sat on the couch in her living room, staring blankly at the television, though she wasn't really watching anything. Her body ached, a constant reminder of the brutal assault she endured just days prior. The slightest movement sent waves of pain through her entire body. But it was the emotional weight she carried that was much heavier than the physical pain.

A knock at the door pulled her out of her thoughts. Letty groaned, not in the mood for visitors. She wasn't in the mood for much of anything. But when the knocking persisted, she sighed and slowly pushed herself up from the couch, wincing as her body protested the movement.

When she opened the door, Half-Sack stood there, an awkward grin on his face. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking as if he wasn't sure whether he should be there or not. Letty crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow.

"Not really in the mood for visitors, sweet cheeks," she said flatly.

"Yeah, I figured you'd say that," he replied with a smirk. "So, I brought your two staples - weed and chocolate."

He held up a small bag of weed in one hand and a large bag of Reece's Peanut Butter Cups, Letty's favourite, in the other. 

Letty stared at the items for a moment, "You're forgetting the booze," she said, her expression remained stoic as she crossed her arms over her chest. 

Half-Sack quirked an eyebrow, "You're always stocked up." 

This caused a large grin to tug at the corners of Letty's lips as he reached out, taking the items from him, "You're right. You can stay," she said, stepping aside to let him in.

Half-Sack's grin widened as he walked into the house, glancing around at the cosy space. He'd been there many times before that he felt comfortable to simply make himself at home. Letty made her way back to the couch, dropping down with a sigh, and Half-Sack joined her, sitting beside her and pulling out a joint he'd already rolled.

He handed it to her, and she accepted it gratefully, lighting it up and taking a deep drag. The familiar warmth of the weed spread through her, dulling the pain and easing the tension in her muscles. She passed it back to Half-Sack, who took a hit before setting it down in the ashtray.

"So," he said, glancing over at her, "What are we watching?"

Letty shrugged, reaching for the remote, "Something stupid and funny. I don't care, as long as it makes me laugh."

Half-Sack nodded, and they settled on Step Brothers, a film they had both seen a dozen times before. Normally, the movie would have been mildly amusing at best, but with the weed kicking in, every line seemed funnier, every scene more absurd.

Before long, they were both stoned out of their minds, laughing hysterically at jokes that probably wouldn't have even warranted a chuckle if they were sober. Letty's sides hurt from laughing so much, and for the first time since her assault, she felt...lighter.

Half-Sack wiped away tears of laughter, glancing over at her with a grin, "You're a terrible influence, you know that?"

Letty snorted, shaking her head, "Please, you brought the weed."

He laughed again, the sound filling the small living room, and Letty found herself joining in. It wasn't just the weed or the movie - it was the fact that Half-Sack had shown up, knowing exactly what she needed even when she didn't know herself.

But amidst the laughter, something shifted in Letty.

The humour melted away, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming sadness she hadn't expected. The tears came without warning, spilling down her cheeks as if a dam had broken inside her. The laughter caught in her throat, turning into sobs, and before she knew it, she was crying uncontrollably.

Half-Sack's laughter died instantly when he noticed her change, confusion flashing in his eyes. He blinked at her for a moment, unsure of what to do, but instinct kicked in. Without saying a word, he scooted closer and pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

Letty buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt as she let out all the pain, fear, and anger that had been building up since the rape. She sobbed against him, her body shaking with the force of her emotions, and Half-Sack just held her, his hand gently rubbing her back in soothing circles.

"It's okay," he murmured, though he wasn't entirely sure what had triggered the breakdown. "Just let it out, Letty. I'm here."

He didn't need to understand to know that she needed this. The tough exterior Letty always wore was crumbling in his arms, and all he could do was be there, letting her soak his shirt with her tears.

Letty's body shook with her sobs, the grief too overwhelming to contain. The memory of Half-Sack's warmth and friendship was a stark reminder of the loss she now faced.

As the car continued down the road, Letty remained lost in her grief, her heart aching for her friend and the cruel reality that had taken him away. The pain of his loss was a heavy burden, and the quiet of the backseat only amplified her sorrow. The world outside was a blur, but in her heart, Half-Sack's memory was as vivid as ever, a beacon of light in the darkness of her despair.

***

Juice's knuckles were white as he gripped the handlebars of his bike, his heart pounding in his chest. The roar of engines surrounded him as his brothers raced down the road toward the docks, their headlights slicing through the darkness. Every muscle in his body was taut, driven by the fear and desperation coursing through him. Letty had been taken, and Juice would tear the world apart to get her back.

"Faster," Juice muttered under his breath, leaning forward as he pushed the bike to its limits. His mind was racing just as fast as his wheels, replaying every worst-case scenario as they approached the docks. He couldn't lose her. Not like this.

The docks loomed ahead, and Juice spotted Cameron's car pulling up by the water. His heart sank as he saw Cameron drag Letty out of the car by her hair, a gun pressed to her head. Juice's blood ran cold. He revved his engine louder, urging his bike forward.

"LETTY!" Juice screamed, his voice hoarse as he watched her struggle against Cameron's grip. Her wide eyes locked onto the approaching bikes, and for a brief moment, hope flickered in them.

"Juice!" she called out, her voice desperate, but just as she did, Cameron slammed the butt of his gun against her head, knocking her out cold. Juice's heart shattered as he watched Letty go limp in Cameron's arms.

The world seemed to slow down as Cameron lifted Letty's unconscious body and cradled her bridal-style, carrying her to the boat docked nearby. Samcro's engines roared as the bikes screeched to a halt, the men jumping off in a frantic rush. But they were too far. They weren't going to make it.

"GO!" Clay shouted, but it was too late. Cameron was already on the boat, placing Letty down as he started the engine.

Juice ran, his boots slamming against the wooden planks of the dock, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could hear the footsteps of his brothers behind him, their desperation matching his own, but Cameron was pulling away from the dock, the boat cutting through the water as it distanced itself from the shore.

"No!" Juice's voice cracked, his knees hitting the dock as he reached the end, his hands gripping the edge in helpless rage. He watched as the boat disappeared into the horizon, taking Letty with it. The weight of his failure crushed him, and he screamed out in agony, slamming his fist into the wooden planks beneath him.

Chibs was at his side in an instant, dropping to his knees and pulling Juice into a tight embrace. The older man's face was etched with grief, his eyes wet with unshed tears. Clay, Jax, and the others gathered around, their faces grim as they watched the boat fade into the distance.

Juice broke down, his body shaking with sobs as he clung to Chibs, "I lost her," he choked out. "I lost her."

"We'll get her back, brother," Chibs whispered, his own voice strained with emotion as he held onto Juice, offering what little comfort he could. "We'll get her back."

But as they all stood there, staring out at the empty water, a cold sense of dread settled over them. They had no idea where Cameron was taking Letty, and the uncertainty was killing them all.

***

A/N: 

23/08/2024

I'm sorry, that's all I can say. But I'm evil and I need that drama and heart break in my books. Please forgive me 🥺🙏🏼😇🥹

DISCLAIMER: I did not make the Theo Rossi gif for the Juice flashback. 

Words: 24061