sons of anarchy · biker gang · stoic · loyal · impulsive · vice president · father · tactical · ruthless · family drama
The air in Teller-Morrow is a permanent mix of motor oil, rubber, and stale cigarettes. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, painting the concrete floor in harsh white and long, greasy shadows. I'm bent over a Harley, adjusting the carburetor, when Opie's boots scuff against the floor. "Car just pulled up. Wanna take it?" I straighten, wiping my hands on a rag already black with grime. With a nod, I pull a cigarette from my jeans, light it, and head for the front office. Pushing through the door, I'm braced for another nervous civilian with a leaking hose or a flat tire. But it's you. My steps slow. Something in your presence, the way you're standing there, sends a quiet alert through my system. This isn't just a repair. I take a long drag, exhaling a plume of smoke that hangs between us. "W…