"You look tense," he added a beat later, glancing at her subtly so as not to spook her by bringing too much attention to it. Yet when he said it, she nearly dropped the cup.

It was such a simple statement, but the way he said it made her feel seen. Too seen.

“Oh,” she said quickly, forcing a laugh. “Just a long day. Lots of customers.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “You sure?”

She hesitated. Just for a second. But he caught it.

“I—yeah. Just a little tired.” She focused on the coffee machine, avoiding his gaze as she frothed the milk. “It’s nothing.”

Lando didn’t push further. Not immediately, at least. Instead, he leaned against the counter, casually observing as she worked. The almond croissants were a new addition to their lineup of baked goods. Perhaps he’d try it sometime, he mused.

She could feel his presence, even when she wasn’t looking at him directly. It made her more aware of herself—the way her hands trembled slightly, the tension in her shoulders.

After a pause, he spoke again, voice much lighter this time. Quieter too, like the words were intended only for her to hear. “You know you can tell me if something’s wrong, right?”

She finally glanced at him, brow furrowing slightly.

He tilted his head, offering an easy, almost amused smile. “You said we’re friends, right?”

She forced a smile of her own, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I.. yeah– yes, I mean. I did say that, that’s true. And thanks. But really, I’m fine.”

He hummed, not entirely convinced, but he let it go.

For now.

She didn’t say anything else either, uncharacteristically quiet for the reminder of the time Lando spent sipping at his coffee. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all until later.

By the time the last customers left and she locked the door behind them, it was just the two of them in the shop. Lando had stayed longer than he usually did, taking his time with his drink, absently flipping through one of the books from the shelf while she tidied up. Mostly just for something to do – reading had never really been his thing.

She remained quiet as she wiped down the counter, lingering near him like she was debating something. She hesitated near the door, glancing out at the darkened street before turning back to find him still lingering at his usual spot.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she really was just being paranoid.

Finally, just as she set the rag aside, she exhaled and said, “Okay… Maybe I have been a little weird lately.”

Lando slowly closed the book, resting his arm over the cover as he turned his attention to her. “Yeah?”

HIs face seemed carefully neutral, no sign of teasing or worry or anything that would indicate his thoughts at all, in fact. It was slightly unsettling, but she felt encouraged by the fact that he seemed to care enough to have noticed in the first place, and that he had willingly offered to be a listening ear.

Hell, he even called them friends.

She leaned her weight against the counter, crossing her arms. “It’s stupid. Probably. But…” 

You can still back out. You don’t have to make a fool of yourself by saying anything.

“I think someone might be watching me.”

Lando went very, very still. Other than that, there was no visible reaction – he only watched her, dark eyes sharp and unreadable.

It was intimidating, to say the least. Maybe she was acting crazy, and now she’d gone ahead and blabbed like some crazy cat lady who wore tin foil hats that thought the government was spying on her and her cats.

She shifted under his gaze, suddenly regretting saying anything. 

What were you expecting? That he’d actually take you seriously? That he’d care?

He kept his expression neutral, tilting his head slightly. “What makes you think that?”

She frowned. “I don’t know. I just—sometimes it feels like there’s someone there. But never when I actually look? And maybe I’m just being paranoid, because nothing’s happened per se, and I haven’t seen anyone exactly, and—” She cut herself off, exhaling sharply as she shook her head as if it’d somehow physically shake off the craziness. “See? Stupid.”

Lando’s grip on his coffee cup tightened for half a second before he forced his hand to relax.

She wasn’t stupid. She was just too damn observant.

She ran a hand over her face, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just losing my mind.”

“Or maybe you’re smarter than most people.”

She glanced up at him. His expression was unreadable, but there was a certain sharpness to it—a flicker of something knowing.

For a second, she wondered what he knew about being watched.

Before she could even think to say anything about it, however, he leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “It’s not stupid if it’s making you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice calm, even.

“Have you told anyone else?”

She blinked. “No. I mean, who would I even tell?”

He shrugged. “A friend. Family. Your boss.”

She shook her head. “Margot would just worry. And I don’t—” She hesitated. “I don’t have anyone else here, really.”

That made something flicker in his expression. Something almost imperceptible.

She shifted uncomfortably. “Anyway, it’s probably nothing. I should just drop it.”

For over two weeks now, Logan had been tasked with keeping an eye on her, feeding Lando reports—nothing serious, nothing intrusive. Just the usual movements. Her schedule. Who she spoke to. Where she went. It was a precaution, a necessity, but now? 

Now she was picking up on it.

He couldn’t have that – Logan was a professional, after all.

Subtly, he pulled his phone from his pocket, typing out a short message under the counter.

Loosen up. Don’t disappear, but make it less obvious, would you?

He hit send.

“Hey, look–”

Her voice pulled his attention back to her.

Her brow was furrowed, her lips pressed together. “You don’t have to sit here and humor me. I know how it sounds. Like I’m–”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Lando said simply.

She blinked. “Oh.”

He leaned back, fingers idly tracing the rim of his cup. “If something’s bothering you, then it’s worth paying attention to.” 

Crystalline green eyes met hers, momentarily taking her breath away with their intensity. “You’re not imagining it,” he added.

She blinked. “How do you know?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he sat back slightly, drumming his fingers lightly against the counter. Then, in the same easy tone he always used, he said, “I’ll walk you home.”

She hesitated. “I don’t want to be dramatic—”

“You’re not,” he interrupted smoothly.

She blinked.

He leaned back slightly, tilting his head as if weighing his next words carefully. “It’s late when you close up, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…?”

“And you walk home alone?”

She hesitated again before nodding reluctantly.

Lando let out a slow breath, almost like he was holding something back. “That’s not exactly safe, you know.”

She laughed, though it came out a little forced. “Yeah, well. Not all of us can afford a car and a driver.”

His lips twitched, not quite a smirk, but something close to amusement. “So I could walk you home.”

When she shot him a dubious look, he had to sigh. “You finish late. You live alone. Doesn’t hurt to be careful, does it?”

She frowned, shifting her weight. It does make sense, she reasoned with herself. It wasn’t like she wanted to be paranoid. And the truth was, knowing someone was walking with her would probably help her sleep better a bit better at night.

“…I guess not,” she admitted.

His lips curled slightly, like he had expected her to agree. “Good.”

“I can stick around more,” he said, tone even.

She frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Walk you after,” he shrugged. “Make sure you get home safe.”

She laughed, caught off guard. “So now, what, you’re like my bodyguard or something now?”

He smirked. “If you want to call it that.”

He took another sip of his coffee before adding, “I could also give you a ride to your uni if you want. S'not far.”

That caught her off guard. She raised an eyebrow, chuckling incredulously. “What, so now you want to be my personal chauffeur too?”

Lando huffed a quiet laugh. “Don’t push your luck.”

It was easier to joke about it, but underneath it all, she could tell he was being serious. And something about that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

But still, the idea of not having to take the bus every morning was appealing...

Noticing her thoughtful expression, he decided to give that extra nudge. “You know. Since we’re friends and all.”

Her lips parted, the words stuck somewhere in her throat.

He’s using my own words against me! How dare he.

Finally, she managed a weak, “I… you really don’t have to.”

“And yet, I’m going to.”

She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “You don’t listen, do you?”

“Selective hearing,” he grinned, eyes shining with mischief and dimples on display. He waited for a retort, and when none came, he grinned even wider. “Then it’s settled.”

She frowned. “That’s– That's not how this works, Liam.”

He grimaced inconspicuously at the use of his fake name, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he picked up his coffee again, leaning back slightly, looking entirely too comfortable. “You’re not exactly arguing very hard,” he observed.

She exhaled through her nose, crossing her arms. “Because I know it’s a bad idea to walk alone at night, I just—” She shook her head. “I really don’t want to be a bother.”

He lifted an eyebrow, chuckling lowly. “You insult me. You really think I’d offer if it was a bother?”

She paused, caught off guard by the sincerity. Something about the way he said it made her feel… safe. Certain. Assured.

Not in the way she should feel safe, necessarily. Maybe there was something too composed about him, something about his ease that made her wonder just what kind of man could offer protection like that without the slightest hesitation, as if it was second nature. 

Like nothing in the world would dare touch him.

She sighed, then muttered, “...Fine. I guess, if it makes you feel better...”

Wearing yet another smug expression (or perhaps his face was permanently stuck that way), he nodded like it had been inevitable, but said nothing else.

“Alright then. I’ll wait outside, yeah?”

And just like that, it was settled.

Lando walked her home.

She tried to tell herself it wasn’t a big deal, that it was just a precaution, that it didn’t mean anything. But there was something about his presence beside her—calm, steady, entirely unbothered—that made her feel safer than she had in days. It was nice not to feel like she had RedBull running in her veins, hyper and on edge.

They didn’t talk much. He let her lead the conversation, responding only when necessary, but never prying. Still, she could feel his eyes subtly scanning their surroundings, always aware.

By the time they reached her apartment building, she felt a little less ridiculous about the whole thing.

“Thanks,” she said awkwardly, shuffling her feet. “For, um. This,” she gestured vaguely to the space around them.

Lando just shrugged. “Anytime.”

Something about the way he said it made her hesitate.

“…I’ll be fine tomorrow, though,” she added quickly. “You really don’t have to—”

“You have class in the morning, don’t you?”

She blinked. “Well yes, but–”

He raised a brow, leaning lazily against the side of her building. “Want a ride?”

Her stomach twisted with something dangerous. “I—”

“Relax,” he said, amused. “I’m not asking for your social security number. M’only offering a ride.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

“Just casually offer to drive random girls to school?”

His smirk widened. “Only the ones I’m friends with.”

Friends. There was that word again.

And she really needed to stop liking the sound of it.

“…Okay,” she finally said, sighing. “But only if it’s not out of your way, okay?”

Lando’s lips twitched before letting a chuckle escape. “No.”

That made her even more suspicious.

After a beat, she shook her head, clearly at a loss. “You are very confusing.”

He just smiled.

But when she finally went in, her shoulders were less tense than they had been in a while, a calm beginning to settle where this once was a nagging unease. 

And so she found herself waiting for him the next morning anyway.

Logan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He read the message from Lando, his lips twitching slightly in amusement.

She’s caught on after all, huh? Good for her.

From his spot across the street, tucked into the shadows near a parked car, he exhaled and took a step back. Maybe he had been a little too consistent.

Time to switch it up.

Rolling his shoulders, Logan removed the camera strap from around his neck, clicking through the photos he’d captured of her that day—some in the café, others as she left, a few of her walking alone. Satisfied, he set the device in the passenger seat beside him and slid into the driver’s seat. His nondescript Vauxhall Astra eased away from the curb, the hum of its engine fading into the night.

High above, from the rooftop of an adjacent building, another figure remained perfectly still.

Stormy blue eyes peered through the darkness, framed by sharp features and an air of quiet control. Unlike Logan, he didn’t need the shadows to disappear—he belonged to them, woven into the city's fabric as seamlessly as the skyline itself.

A slow smirk curled his lips.

“Well, well,” he murmured, tilting his head. “Look at you.”

Long, pale fingers hovered over the ridged button atop his sleek, black camera. He took his time, watching, analyzing, before pressing down.

Click.

A single frame captured – evidence of a hunter tailing another.

And just like that, George Russell was gone.

Brick took the silent cue and strolled forward, tail high and half-curled over his bare back. “I’m glad I caught you when I did. I thought I’d have to wait by your border.” His eyes stayed on Firestar, speaking to him like Thornclaw didn’t exist and wasn’t sinking his claws into the ground. “You’re the cat I think can help me best on a plan of mine to stop this war as quickly as possible. You are the only one that seems interested in peace, and all that.”

Firestar gently rested his tail on Thornclaw’s side to soothe him. “I’m listening, certainly. Are there any others around with you?”

“Oh, no.” Brick’s ears turned half-back. “If they knew I was here talking to you, they’d kill me. Which is why I’d like to come to your camp and talk over my plan with you.”

“Firestar, please d’n’ bring him to camp,” Thornclaw muttered. “He’ll know where we live, and…”

“I’m not stupid, don’t worry.” Firestar offered a calming blink to his Clanmate before saying to Brick, “I’m afraid coming to camp won’t work. I’m willing to talk with you on the border, but no further into our territory.”

“Works for me just as well.” Brick artfully slouched in relaxation—somehow while still standing. “I’m just glad you’re willing to hear me out. Those other leaders of yours… well, that calico’s eager to skin me, I’m sure.”

“We should skin you,” Thornclaw growled, “for what you did to our Clanmate.”

Brick looked at him in mild surprise. “I didn’t have anything to do with that. The Scourge oversaw the whole thing himself. Blame him.”

Thornclaw growled again, deep in his throat. Firestar silently pressed his tail a little more firmly on Thornclaw’s side until the growl stopped.

“Let’s go, then,” he said, and started back down the road for the border. Thornclaw stuck close to him, almost brushing their pelts together, his hazel eyes not once leaving Brick. Brick walked on the other side, but several steps away from them. He looked relaxed, but Firestar didn’t miss his eyes occasionally darting to Thornclaw.

“So what has you wanting to work with us?” Firestar asked before the silence could get awkward. “I assumed you were all interested in our territories.”

“We are.” Brick lightly batted a stray pebble and sent it skittering across the road. “Every town cat’s heard about how well you all live out there. We assumed you all struggled initially, what with ShadowClan constantly needing to scavenge, but that, uh, Dirtstripe fellow, he ratted you out with your plentiful lands and comfortable homes.” Brick made a face of disdain. “Though what he really wanted to talk about was how much you needed to die first, Firestar.”

“That… sounds like Darkstripe.” Firestar sighed. “I’d hoped he’d come home and we could talk things out, but…”

“Eh, he didn’t seem like that worthy of a warrior anyway.” Brick slanted his head to the side. “Anyone eager to betray the cats who raised and protected them is no real loss in my mind.”

“You’re betraying your own cats right now,” Thornclaw pointed out sourly.

“And I won’t be any real loss to anyone but myself,” Brick replied. He gave Firestar a cheeky wink. “Then again, we’re all out for ourselves in town. I don’t know if anyone would be missed by anyone else.”

Firestar stared at him. “That can’t be true. Don’t you all have friends and families?”

To his surprise, Brick’s lazy mirth left his face and his eyes darkened. “Bonds don’t mean anything when you live on the street.”

“Oh,” Firestar said quietly.

“Now, you Clan cats, y’all are a unit.” Brick gave Thornclaw an approving (if slightly wary) look. “I’ve seen how you work to protect each other during fights. Very good advantage to have, cohesion and unity.”

“It’s not meant to be an advantage,” Firestar said, tapping Thornclaw with his tail just before the younger tom bristled again. “It’s just the right thing to do.”

Brick didn’t respond to this. He just looked at Firestar with scrutinizing, slightly narrowed eyes before turning forward again.

They were just passing Smudge’s house when Brick perked his ears up. “Oh, there’s that molly that beat me up.”

Firestar followed his line of sight; sure enough, Mousefur was lifting her head from having just caught a piece of prey (looked like a mole, awesome!). She caught sight of the approaching toms, dropped her prey and stood tall, her tail lashing once.

“Cinderpelt warned us you’d be coming home with company,” she remarked, her voice dry and her expression burning with wary anger.

“Hello again,” Brick said politely. Firestar noticed he did not blink at her.

“That was good of her.” Firestar stopped at the edge of the border. “Is there a patrol with you?”

“There is!” a voice called in the depths of the underbrush. Ravenwing, Dustpelt, and Greystripe pushed out of the foliage and joined Mousefur, not a single one of them looking pleased (though Greystripe was poorly hiding his wry amusement).

“I’m not coming over your border, don’t worry,” Brick said, sitting down a body-length from the treeline. “I’m here to offer a deal with you all.”

Mousefur narrowed her eyes to a squint at him. “And what deal is this?”

Brick didn’t answer her, instead looking at Firestar. “Do we have the appropriate cats here to talk about this?”

“Whatever you have to say to me, you can say to them,” Firestar replied. He crooked his tail for everyone to step closer and form a ring. Brick was caught in the middle like a trapped mouse, but he didn’t look particularly worried.

“Go on, then,” Dustpelt said shortly.

Brick sat down facing Dustpelt and Firestar, his tail leaning along the hairless line on his back. His voice was calm and quiet as he spoke.

“So, the reason I’m here, as I told Firestar, is that I want to make a deal with you Clan cats. All of you, all four.” One ear slid back. “In exchange for whatever I’m capable of providing to you—bolstered numbers, deadly information, any advantage—you will work together and terminate the Blood as quickly and efficiently as possible.”

Everyone looked back and forth at each other in surprise and disbelief. Ravenwing was the one to speak, asking, “You’re a point of authority in the Blood, aren’t you?”

“One step below the Scourge himself.” Brick nodded.

“Then why would you cause trouble for yourself and lose your position?”

Brick sighed. “In town, being on top just promises you’ll fall from a greater height when it all comes apart. The Blood’s got sheer numbers and brutality, certainly, but that’s no guarantee that it can stick around for longer than it takes to chase y’all off and fill up your territories.”

Dustpelt, surprisingly, piped up in a tone of great interest, rather than stilted irritation. “It’s an unstable group, then.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Brick looked over at him. “It’s growing far too fast for any of us to keep track of. I don’t even know which cats are ours and which are staying out of the fight. It doesn’t help that Bone ordered everyone to grab as many house cats and stray yearlings as they can find and teach them just enough fighting moves to be led out here and thrown at your borders until you give up.”

Greystripe’s claws dug into the soft soil, and Ravenwing’s eyes narrowed.

“So there’s no real organization, fine,” Mousefur said. “But how will tearing down the biggest gang in the Aulmir help you?”

To her, Brick replied, “Gets me away from the most violent psychopaths I’ve ever seen, for one, and gets those zealots out of their crazed slavery, for two.”

“‘Zealots’,” Mousefur repeated, head tilted.

Brick rolled his eyes and wrinkled his nose. “The Scourge is quite a preacher, I’ll tell you that. The reason the Blood’s growing so fast is that he’s got everyone thinking he’ll guarantee them a place in heaven if they follow his rules and serve him only. They’re all swarming in to join paradise, and they’ll do whatever he wants to get it. Ridiculous, if you ask me.”

Ravenwing blinked in surprise. “Is that afterlife even real?”

Brick rolled a shoulder. “I have no idea. Everyone else thinks so, at least.” He looked at Firestar. “The important part is that the Scourge’s got a lot of followers, but not everyone in town agrees with him, and I’m sure some of them that do would run from a fight.”

“They already run,” said Mousefur. “You did, too.”

“It’s a strategic act of cowardice,” Brick said to her, looking amused.

“If not everyone in town agrees with him, then…” Ravenwing’s tail danced as he spoke to Dustpelt and Firestar. “We could potentially get more cats on our side. They’ll be outsiders, but maybe they’re sick of the Blood and want them out too.”

“That’s possible…” Dustpelt hummed, eyes on the ground as he thought. “But I don’t know that I trust this cat to gather up forces for us. I don’t even know if he’s right in the first place.”

Firestar had an idea and immediately wanted to chuff at how upset it would make everyone. “Well, there’s one option—someone could go with him and speak to these outsider cats.”

“Firestar…” Greystripe said, speaking for the first time and with a heavy warning tone.

“I’m just saying, it’d be worthwhile to scout it out and have a personal conversation with them—” Firestar started.

Ravenwing cut him off, hair straight up on his back in alarm. “You are NOT suggesting you could go into enemy territory with a total stranger.”

“I might be,” Firestar said cheekily.

The group exploded with protests. Firestar tried not to be amused by that.

“That’s suicide!”

“You can’t do that!”

“Are you out of your mind?!”

Firestar raised a paw and lowered it a little in a gesture for quiet, which he got quickly. “No one in this Clan—or in any of the Clans—could get past any loner, even one not working for the Blood. You all look far too much like Clan cats; too big, too small, too lanky, too round. At least one cat will know what a RiverClan or ThunderClan warrior looks like, and the game would be up. I’m a short little outsider that’s too skinny to be a kittypet and too normal looking to be a Clan cat. If anyone can get into the Aulmir without suspicion, it would be me.”

“But—” Thornclaw struggled to speak twice before getting out, “But you could get killed!”

“We can’t lose anyone else, Firestar,” Dustpelt said, almost desperately. “We can’t. Especially not you.”

Brick cleared his throat. “If I may, Firestar, your friends make a good point that a leader showing up in town is absolute insanity.”

“Would you be with me?” Firestar asked politely.

“I…” Brick shifted his legs, looking a little uneasy. “I mean, yeah, that’d be the most advantageous way to get around, but…”

Mousefur sighed heavily. “He’s right, Firestar, this is nuts. What if they smell us on you?”

“Rubbish,” Firestar replied. “I can cover my scent easily.”

“And, to be fair, it’s hard to get a smell on anyone these days,” Brick said reluctantly. He gave Firestar a look one would give a cat hopping around in the middle of the road during heavy traffic. “You understand that if we get caught, we both get tortured until our hearts give out.”

Firestar met his eyes easily. “You’re offering up your life to save all of us. You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t think stopping the Blood was worth it.”

Brick could only keep eye contact for a moment before looking away. “I’m not aiming for heroics here.”

“He’s equally insane,” Mousefur said. “That’s all.”

Brick glanced at her with a twitch of his whiskers. “I’m playing a game of mutual benefits. You all don’t die, and I get rid of a massive pain in my prat.”

“Whatever.” Mousefur looked at Firestar. “It’s still extremely risky. Can we at least talk to the rest of the Clan about this?”

“I know exactly what they’ll all say,” Firestar said.

“And you’ll probably go through with it anyway,” Greystripe grumbled.

“I probably will.” Firestar stood up. “But yes, we can talk to them. Brick, could you meet me at the edge of the Houses in two nights’ time? We’ll have a decision by then.”

Brick studied Firestar, his head tilted even further than usual. “You’re a funny one, Firestar. Surprised they let you tell them what to do. That big grey fellow could swallow you whole.”

“He coasts on charisma,” Greystripe said. His claws flashed in the distant lights of the Houses. “And let me make it clear to you, if he doesn’t come home after pulling this scheme, or even just dropping by to tell you ‘no’, we’re charging into the Aulmir to tear you to shreds.”

“Good luck with that,” Brick said apathetically. He stood up too. “Mind if I get out of the interrogation circle here? I should get back before daylight.”

Firestar twitched his whiskers at the forced casual tone. You’re not eager to be on the receiving end of Greystripe’s claws, no matter what you say.

“Let him go,” he said aloud, and he and Dustpelt parted to make room for Brick to trot through.

“Much obliged,” the loner said. He started to leave before turning his head to Firestar. “Two nights’ time. I’ll sit by that fence over there.” He flicked his tail at Firestar’s old house. “Don’t be late and don’t bring friends.”

“We say the same to you,” Dustpelt growled.

Firestar lifted his tail to quiet him. “Travel safely, Brick. I hope this works out.”

Brick cocked his head before setting off at a loping canter. No one said anything as he disappeared around the corner.

“Well,” Firestar said after a pause, “get ready to cover your ears when we get home. The outrage will deafen the prey in our pile.”

“You’re insane,” Mousefur muttered, picking up her mole and following Firestar into the woods. “Trusting a Blood cat that much, that you’re risking death to follow him into his territory?”

“If I have a bad feeling about it, I’ll stay home,” Firestar promised. “But I have a good feeling this will work out in our favor.”

Onyx Thinblade closed in on the camp. He was armed to the silver capped teeth with wooden stakes and sanctified bullets loaded in his rifle. You have to understand that the world of vampire hunting is not very lucrative. At the most, it’s like a hobby for some. But for the independently wealthy like Onyx, it’s a lifestyle. He’d been tracking the perverse nosferatu and their mind-controlled slaves since Camland East. He found the elf vampire, with the orc leech nowhere to be seen, outside of the city of Glasstown, outside of their caravans, cooking up thick slices of meat over a roaring fire. He supposed that they had to keep their bloodbags healthy and well fed, right?

There was a mess of creatures outside. A goblin played a harmonica; a weird, diminutive circus freak strummed a little lute; a slime monster in the shape of a human woman did a jerky sort of dance, the flames reflected on her semi-transparent blue form; a third newborn vampire woman strummed on a guitar; and all the while, a disembodied woman’s head sang. Oftentimes, vampires have childlike fascinations with circuses and freak shows. Onyx Thinblade considered that these vampires might be of that stripe of odd. Child-brained immortals with quirks. Though it would hardly matter. The whole camp would have to be purified and the ground salted. There was no more waiting, no more stalking; the time was now.

Onyx blew into the camp with his rifle raised, but before he could make another move. Jessup made a startled noise, pulled out a pistol on him, and fired twice. Both shots hit with deadly accuracy, blowing out the crown of the vampire hunter’s head.

“Well, what did you do that for?” chastised Daisy Parkinson.

“He scared the shit out of me!” shouted Jessup, shaking. “He came out of the dark with a gun.”

“Ozol,” muttered Glasha as she exited the caravan. “We’ll have to search his pockets.”

Glasha walked over and found that Onyx was wearing a holy idol necklace, some kind of elven fertility thing that burned when she touched it; however, in place of the typical beads meant to represent prayers were a series of strung together vampire fangs.

“Oh, dammit,” she winced when the pain of holding onto the idol became too much for her fingers. “Can someone who isn’t undead take this?”

She gestured down at the necklace that rested in a pile on the corpse. Vial scampered over to the body and picked up the idol and held it above his head like it was some grand prize.

“Well,” said Glasha. “Thanks for dealing with the vampire hunter. I would have hated to crush another one to death.”

“Have you had to deal with them a lot?” asked Jessup.

“A few would get into the cave we were living in and try to mess with us,” said Ailuin. “Few of them ever made it past The Bane of the West.”

Ailuin gestured at his towering muscle wife as she lifted up the hunter’s corpse before shaking it to see what loose change and goods fell out of its pockets.

“Personally,” said Ailuin. “I think they have some kind of disgusting chaser fetish for vampires. They go out hunting for us in the hopes of getting bit, turned, and potentially fucking us.”

“I feel like it’d just be easier to ask,” said Jessup.

“You would think, but people have to be so damn cryptic and odd about things,” said Glasha as she started to strip the clothes off of the corpse.

“Why are you taking his clothes?” asked Jessup.

“He’s of a comparable size to my husband,” said Glasha. “And I think he’d look incredibly sexy in this black leather coat.”

Ailuin smiled and started laughing to himself like a lovesick schoolgirl whose crush acknowledged them. They both made Jessup sick. Then Ailuin’s expression dropped and he produced a leather bound notebook and started jotting down ideas.

“Has inspiration struck you, knife ears?” asked Glasha.

“It has, beloved,” said Ailuin. “A grand epic. Enemies who become lovers and have life threatening sex with each other."

“There is one issue,” said Slime. “Glasstown’s memory is as long as we are old. They remember the orgy. They will not allow us entry.”

“Glasstown’s probably over all of that,” said Glasha, waving her hand.

---

Glasstown’s automatons had become more advanced and more mustachioed since they’d last visited centuries prior. They did not budge as the cast and crew approached the main gate to what was now known as “Satellite Origin”. It was the original Glasstown, which was connected to three subsequent cities, all of which were contained beneath glass domes like snowglobes and connected via railroad.

“You are not permitted within our borders,” said the Automaton. “Have a pleasant day, traveller.”

“What do you mean, metal man!? We demand an audience with your mayor!” shouted Glasha.

“It is by order of the Mayor’s office that Ailuin and Glasha of the Jagged Fang are not permitted entry into the cities,” said the Automaton. “Have a pleasant day, traveller.”

“Maybe I’ll come back here with some fucking nitroglycerine and blow this whole goddamn city up!” shouted Glasha.

“Is that a threat, traveller?” asked the Automaton.

“No, no,” said Ailuin, stepping between his wife and the eight-foot-tall monster made out of copper and powered by steam. “She just gets heated, just a little heated, you understand, we’ll be on our way.”

Everyone marched across the ancient bridge that separated Glasstown from the wider world and back towards the caravan on the outskirts of everything.

“I just don’t understand why they’re being so bullheaded,” said Glasha. “They’re paranoid and violent, those lot.”

Ailuin bit his tongue.

“I wouldn’t be too upset about it,” said Jessup. “They’ve been under a kind of self-imposed siege of sorts for decades. The hoi polloi of the city think that they can keep neutral and free of war if they keep a few people from coming in and out.”

“Most of us aren’t warriors,” said Ailuin. “We’re actors.”

“I am a breaker of kingdoms,” said Glasha. “But yes, largely we’re actors.”

“I would slaughter entire towns for you, my love,” said Ailuin, his breath heavy.

Glasha scooped up her husband and proceeded to carry him bridal style across the bridge. Their dialogue and behavior disgusted and disturbed Jessup. But, they were jealous because they too wanted to be hefted up like luggage.

“All of that aside,” said the cradled Ailuin. “We need to work out what our plan of action is. We can’t go to Glasstown. But I also don’t want to go the distance to Rexington.”

“We could always do the religious zealot special,” said Jessup. “We could set up a stage at the caravan. Buy a bunch of chairs. Y’know? If you build it, they will come.”

“If we build it, they will come,” repeated Ailuin, with emphasis.

---

The night of the play opened up with a decently sized crowd of people from the cities of Glasstown. A few cloak-and-dagger types in the literal sense. A lot of them wore thick coats and big hats to hide their identities from one another and the showrunners. Though the latter didn’t especially care about who they were.

Vial cut across the stage, wearing the Elven fertility idol that he’d retrieved from the vampire hunter’s corpse. The inherent magic has a peculiar impact on him; he found that he was now capable of maintaining an erection without passing out. Vial stepped onto the stage with a thick, frightening boner, and it wagged back and forth as he trotted, swinging wildly as he made his points in his little jokes. Nobody laughed. Both because it wasn’t funny, but they were, as a group, hypnotized by the minogoblin’s erection.

“Anyways,” said Vial after finishing his bit. “Tonight’s show is about how we can mend bridges and come together. Overcoming strife and things like that…All through the power of sex.”

He rushed off stage, and the crowd followed the bobbing of his cockhead as it bounced with every step.

The curtains parted, and the audience was treated to the tableaux of a fog-shrouded graveyard. Ailuin was dressed in the dead hunter’s leather hat and duster. The pants had been swapped out for a pair of black silk trousers that revealed the outline of Ailuin’s lust-engorged member.

The fog became a column at the opposite end of the stage, and from the rough plum emerged Glasha. They decided to go all black for her look as well. Black lipstick, dark eyeshadow that made her eyes glow, and she’d decided to dress in a black velour dress that had a long slit along the left leg that terminated at her hip and a deep cut along the chest that revealed her generous cleavage, then there was the lack of sleeves, displaying the impressive pythons that she called arms.

“It’s the end of the line, Beatrix,” said Ailuin, levelling a pistol at her. “If you surrender now, we can end things quickly.”

Glasha used her vampiric powers to drift across the stage in a rather elegant display of supernatural power. She seized Ailuin by the wrist and guided the barrel of the gun along the deep V of the dress. Moving it slowly between her breasts so it briefly rested against her heart. Ailuin made a low hiss, and his eyes followed where she led the business end of his gun. Gradually, she leveled the gun with her lips and kissed the barrel.

“Holy shit,” muttered Ailuin.

“You better believe it,” said Glasha.

She tossed the gun aside and lifted Ailuin off his feet by his neck. Ailuin’s cock was throbbing with anticipation as she applied just a little bit more pressure. It had been a while since they both experimented with breathplay (which they found rather difficult, considering they didn’t really need to breathe, but the imagery of them choking each other was fun for them.)

“Naturally,” said Glasha, applying pressure and making her husband produce a series of feigned choking noises. “I could just…tear your fucking head off and drink from the spirting fountain of blood there. But I get the feeling there’s something else you’d rather I suck. Ammiright?”

With her free hand and powerful muscles, she tore away the silken trousers, causing his erection to flop out and stand at attention for her. She took the tip of his member in her mouth and gradually eased it into her mouth, bobbing up and down and sliding along the length. While she sucked him off, she looked up and watched the mixture of pain and pleasure evident on her husband’s face. It was one of the things she was looking forward to in the scene. She figured it out centuries ago that part of the reason she was so enthusiastic about being cucked by her husband was that she was using him as something of a proxy. Ailuin’s pleasure wasn’t just his pleasure; it was hers. His cock wasn’t just his cock, it was her cock.

Her free hand moved down and between her legs. She sank a pair of fingers inside herself and began to aggressively finger herself in time with her head moving up and along the length.

Eventually, though, she grew tired of the awkward angle she held her husband in and released her grip on his throat. He fell to the ground in a pile and gripped his throat, making loud, fake coughing. Glasha ceased fingering herself and pulled her dress’s skirt to the side, revealing her dripping pussy to her husband.

“Go ahead, hunter, stake a vampire,” said Glasha.

Ailuin didn’t need to be told twice. He rushed over to his wife and pinned her up against a wooden tombstone, sinking the full length of his cock inside her. The result was that they threw their heads back in hungry moans. Glasha grabbed him by the back of his head and pulled him close, burying his face in her cleavage. One, because she knew that her husband was obsessed with her breasts, but also to hide the very prominent vampire fangs that he had. Can’t break audience immersion. Ailuin used his vampiric strength to hold his wife up as she wrapped her legs around him.

Ailuin rolled his hips and pulled himself free of her cleavage. He took one of his hands off of her so he could pull the fabric back and reveal her breasts before taking them in his mouth and hungrily sucking.

Glasha made a heavy, moaning, interrupted laugh, “Seems I'm not the only one itching for a suck.”

She took a hand off him and pushed him back before leaning in to kiss and bite at his neck, sucking his vampire blood for real to make herself stronger in the moment.

Neither could stand it any longer, and they both reached climax together with Ailuin’s cold cum flooding inside her and spilling onto the ground for all the audience to see.

Stahl gazed up at the infuriated deputy, her voice calm and cool showing no regard for his anger, she not even caring enough to address the question. “Did you enjoy your lunch break?”

Hale glared down at the ATF agent spotting the files spread out across the desk, his stomach turning at the clear sight of old mugshots featuring both Tara and Y/N along with police reports.

He didn’t understand what angle Stahl was working here. If she was interested in ol ladies then surely Gemma Teller Morrow would be a better choice. 

Tara and Y/N weren’t exactly on the same level as the Queen of SAMCRO. What could they possibly provide Stahl to build a RICO case against SAMCRO?

Both Tara and Y/N having questionable taste in romantic partners didn’t exactly mean they were involved in gun running. 

Deputy Hale slammed the door shut behind him not wanting any nearby ears to pick up on the conversation he was about to have with Stahl. He knew he’d already attracted a few gazes from both ATF agents and his fellow department coworkers by bursting in here clearly pissed off. 

He spoke his voice harsh, as he glared down at her, the agent looking all too comfortable sitting at his desk. “They have nothing to do with this investigation.”

“Oh, David. How willfully naive. They have so much to do with this investigation. You aren’t seeing the possibility behind these two.” Stahl remarked an amused smirk crossing her lips at how worked up the good deputy seemed to be over the mention of these two women.

It seemed that she had struck a nerve in him, and she was unable to avoid the temptation to strike again.

Hale let out a scoff at the comment addressing his first concern. “Tara Knowles left Charming and SAMCRO behind. She might have had a wild past, but she’s cleaned up her act. She went out to Chicago and got a medical degree. She’s not opening beers for outlaws anymore.”

“Oh, we both know that’s not entirely true. All these photos Agent Kohn provided seem to indicate that Dr. Knowles is starting to get a little close and personal with one very patched in Jackson Teller. Those two have a history judging by these police reports. Arrests in the nineties for public intoxication, disorderly conduct, and possession of stolen property, all in the company of one Jackson Teller.”

“They dated back when we were teenagers. We all did stupid things as teens. She left town at nineteen and left Teller and the MC behind. She’s been gone for over a decade now. She only came back because her dad died and she got a job opportunity out here.” Hale snapped Agent Stahl rolling her eyes at the comment.

“She was out in Chicago, David. She was top of the class from the looks of it. Brilliant young woman with the accolades to back it up, just how many job opportunities must those brains and accomplishments have brought in for her? With her background she could take a job anywhere in the country at any hospital of her choice. Why’d she pick Charming? I can’t imagine it's just homesickness that led her back here. She could have stayed out in Chicago and made a hell of a lot more money than Saint Thomas is probably offering her. Why pick Saint Thomas and Charming? I think we both are well aware of Agent Kohn’s real reason for coming out to Charming. Agent Kohn is one sick puppy and I can’t imagine Tara was too keen on sticking around up in Chicago with him hanging around. Tara’s ex boyfriend becomes her stalker and she comes back to a town where her first love has a dangerous reputation. You don’t think that’s a little convenient? '' Stahl pointed out Hale gritting his jaw unwilling to admit that the answer to just why she’d come back home lay in Jax Teller.

He spoke, still refusing to admit that Tara could possibly have any possible information to build a RICO case. “I’m sure Jackson Teller’s boy being premature has made Tara and he take some walks down memory lane, but Tara is no ol lady. She’s not getting any pillow talk about gun running from anyone in SAMCRO. Agent Kohn has been taken care of. He’s heading back to Chicago to answer to his superiors. Tara Knowles isn’t looking to seek protection from Teller.”

Stahl raised a brow at the comments, shrugging her shoulders as she spoke. “That may be the case, but you do have to be a little curious about the similarities between Dr. Knowles and Miss. Y/L/N. Both young women with troubled criminally prone backgrounds who left town only to come back after losing their fathers. Both women have been seen in the company of at least one patched in member of SAMCRO. In fact, both women share some similarities in their rap sheets. Looks like they have both been arrested in the company of one Jackson Teller. I do have to wonder if Dr. Knowles knows that Jax found a new Bonnie to his Clyde in her absence.”

Hale let out a huff at this, his voice holding an edge of irritation as he glared down at Stahl. “Y/N had some difficult years in her late teens and early twenties. Jackson and she shared a bond given her brother’s accident.”

“Yes, Daniel Y/L/N. It’s a shame what happened to him. Miss. Y/L/N dutifully pays those institutionalization bills to keep him cared for.  Looks like he wasn’t on the best path though. He ran around with Harry Opie Winston and Jackson Teller from what I’m gathering from Daniel’s police record. Looks like his first few arrests weren’t anything too grand, arrests in his late teens for possession of marijuana…not enough to get him more than a fine…some drunk and disorderlies around the same time. He was arrested with both Winston and Teller for a drunken brawl out at the Hairy Dog back when he was twenty one. The arresting officer commented that Mr. Y/L/N seemed elated by the violence. Judging by the black eye and the grin on his face in this mugshot, he was in his element. Strange how he never prospected for the MC. Looks like he was as thick as thieves with Teller and Winston before the accident.”

“His father kept him on a tight leash. After that arrest at twenty one he gave him an ultimatum, some tough love to get him on the right path. From my understanding he told him to get his shit together and enroll in community college or lose access to Y/N. His father didn’t want him leading her down that path. Daniel loved his little sister dearly. She worshiped Daniel and their father knew she’d follow him anywhere. His accident was heartbreaking for her. He may as well have died with as hard as she took it. He was more than a brother to her. I'm sure she viewed Daniel as being her best friend.” Hale explained shifting in place his stomach turning at the mention of a young man he’d once considered a friend before Daniel started going down a bad path with Opie and Jax.

“Looks like the ultimatum was in vain. Daniel Y/L/N has his motorcycle accident and that same year Y/N gets arrested in the company of Jackson Teller. She got busted for public intoxication. Scandalous considering she was all of eighteen and Mr. Teller was about twenty three, a little too old to be sniffing around her, but we both know the MC isn't filled morally upstanding guys. Her being barely out of being considered jailbait must have been thrilling for the boys at SAMCRO.” Stahl provided proudly displaying the mugshot.

Hale gazed down at the mugshot of an eighteen year old Y/N, her face still holding baby fat, her hair a faded pink that had gone a peachy tone, a dazed look in her eyes; she was clearly under the influence. He could spot chipped black nail polish on her fingers and a silver stud in her left nostril. The tank top she wore was far too low cut revealing the red lace of a bra. The slight smirk on her red painted lips showed that she felt little shame for her very first arrest.

Stahl spoke again providing more information about Y/N’s arrest record. “She continued to become a frequent flier in your jail cells. Looks like she got picked up a few more times at eighteen and nineteen, drunk and disorderly, driving under the influence, driving under the influence on a suspended license, possession of the tiniest amount of pot which wasn't enough to be an issue if she wasn’t clearly drunk, an arrest for shoplifting a pack of cigarettes and a candy bar where the arresting officer noted she seemed intoxicated. You picked her up more than once for some of these arrests…that must have been awkward for you both. Looks like she got a few slaps on the wrist, some fines, and some court ordered community service along with a few alcohol education courses. Didn’t seem to faze her though as the arrests continued…gotta love a small town police department. Most of this crap would have landed her doing some real time anywhere but Charming.”

“Sheriff Unser respected her father…everyone respected her father for the good he did for the community; caring for the deceased. He was a beloved figure around Charming. People saw him as personable and caring for the bereaved and diligent about caring for the dead. He had a reputation for being charitable to those who couldn’t always afford to bury their dead…made him even more adored around town. People felt sorry for him after Daniel’s accident…people around town felt awful for the man losing his son and having a daughter who wasn’t coping well. Lloyd Y/L/N advocated for his daughter to stay out of the system…Unser felt bad given what happened with Daniel, didn’t want Lloyd to lose another kid…The judge who ordered the community service and alcohol awareness courses felt the same way given Unser’s appeals to give Y/N opportunities to get her life on the right track. I don’t know how he kept her out of any real jail time or any harsher punishments…Unser’s a slick son of a bitch. I’m sure some money passed between Lloyd Y/L/N’s palm and the judge’s at least once. Lloyd Y/L/N was morally upstanding, but when it came to his little girl…he was willing and desperate enough to break his morals…especially given the situation with his son. He couldn't bear to lose Y/N too.” Hale provided, gritting his jaw at the thought of Unser.

Stahl shook her head. “Guess it’s good to be friends with Unser. Looks like Unser’s appeals kept her out of too much trouble, but she didn’t get her life on the right track. There’s a few more arrests here at nineteen. This one is interesting; an arrest in the company of one Alexander Tig Trager and one Robert Bobby Elvis Munson at a truck stop right on the edge of Charming city limits. Looks like she was about to turn nineteen and all three were clearly very under the influence. Trager was driving erratically and the officer noted that Y/N was so intoxicated that she fell out of the passengers door when the officer opened it. Local PD couldn’t prove that either man had provided the alcohol for Miss. Y/L/N, so Trager and Munson didn’t get more than a slap on the wrist for being in the company of an intoxicated minor. You do have to admit it's troubling a girl her age was hanging out with two men that age. Rumors around town are that Miss. Y/L/N was a regular at SAMCRO’s clubhouse. Looks like she was a…croweater? Isn’t that the term the Sons use for the club whores?”

The comment made Hale see red, the man speaking his voice harsh. “She kept bad company back then, but she was not playing the croweater game. She was not spreading her legs for every single guy in a kutte.” 

Stahl smirked at the comment, quickly addressing it. “Sounds like I struck a nerve there, David. You’re getting a little defensive about Miss. Y/L/N’s promiscuous past? One might think you’re sweet on her.”

She smirked all the more as she spotted the way Hale tensed all the more at the comment. She spotted a flash of indignation in the man’s eyes at the implication that Y/N was a club tart. “You arrested her a few times back then, David? That must have been frustrating for you in more ways than one. I bet you wanted to place her in handcuffs in much different circumstances.”

Hale scoffed at this comment shaking his head, his voice tense he refusing to address the innuendo about handcuffs and Y/N the thought making him a little hot under the collar. “I was close with her brother when we were kids. Having to arrest Y/N was not something I found enjoyable.”

Stahl sighed, backing off the teasing as she pulled out another mugshot. “Looks like she was around nineteen and twenty when things got a little disturbing for Miss Y/L/N. Her partner in crime shifted from Jackson and a few members of SAMCRO and to one Nathaniel Gunner Papadopoulos. Nathaniel or Gunner as he goes by is a Son. Looks like he was a nomad at the time, but nowadays he’s fully patched into the Tacoma charter of the Sons. The first arrests with him follow the same path; public intoxication and drunk and disorderly…then things get dark. There were a few calls out to bars around town where the two had some verbal altercations, there were no arrests for these as they vacated the premises and that satisfied the bar owners. Then there was an arrest outside a gas station for being disorderly in public…Y/N is about nineteen here and Gunner is about twenty six…looks like they got into a verbal altercation once again and Mr. Papadopoulos struck Miss. Y/L/N…he was arrested. She was taken in after she tried to argue with the arresting officer and interfere with the arrest of Mr. Papadopoulos. It seems she was frustrated that he was being arrested as she did not want to press charges for the physical assault on her. That was the first arrest for an altercation between the pair where things got physical. Looks like one of the final arrests we have of the pair involved an altercation the two had outside of a diner when Miss. Y/L/N was twenty. You were one of the responding officers from what I see”.

Hale shifted in place, his jaw clenching so tight he looked as though he might crack a tooth. He cringed as Stahl continued. “Chances are you must remember the arrest, but I can refresh your memory. From the police record it looks as though Mr. Popadopoulos and Miss. Y/L/N were under the influence and having a lovers spat in the parking lot of the diner, over the waitress getting a little too friendly with Mr. Papadopoulos, when Papadopoulos struck Miss. Y/L/N. She reacted by hitting him back and it devolved into a full on physical altercation. Looks like she got him pretty good judging by the scratch marks across his face and the bruises he’s sporting. He seems to have gotten her better though given the split lip. The arresting officer who you were with noted past bruises on Miss. Y/L/N and indicated suspicion of domestic violence, but Miss. Y/L/N seemed to brush questions about it off as evidence of rough sexual encounters between Mr. Papadopoulos and her. You noted in your notes on the arrest that you tried to urge Miss. Y/L/N to press charges against Mr. Papadopoulos as her reaction could be written off as self defense..but she was not interested. The two spent the night in jail and one of the Sons, looks like one of Gunner's fellow nomads that was visiting the mother charter, bailed Gunner out the next morning…Gunner then bailed Miss. Y/L/N out…how romantic. The mugshots are not pretty”

Hale let out a heavy breath, his body filled with tension as he gazed down at the mugshot in question. Y/N looked far less proud of herself in this photo. Her right eye was swollen, the hint of a black eye starting to develop. Her lip was split courtesy of one of Gunner’s silver chunky biker rings. She was dressed in another tight tank top and it did little to hide the bruises across her skin, some markings old and some quite recent. Her eyes held an almost empty sense to them as though she was running on autopilot most of the time but disconnected from her surroundings. Her body seemed too thin and it felt as though it was from more than aging. He suspected drug use though he could not place the drug in question without testing her. Her hair had faded back to its natural tone and the nose piercing was gone. She was scowling at the camera clearly filled with rage.

Hale spoke the words leaving him before he could stop them  “I tried to get her to press charges against the bastard. I tried to convince her that he was taking her down a bad path. He had her under some kind of spell or something I don’t know…She left town a few months after that last arrest. Rumors around town said that she was seen using a phone booth near main street looking worse for wear. Her father picked her up and got her out of town.”

Hale took a deep breath, his words harsh he tearing his eyes from the mugshot. “Y/N’s past has no bearing on anything. She has straightened herself out. She’s taken over her father’s business and has stayed on the straightened arrow. She’s grown up.”

“Maybe so…those empty graves that were found back in the cemetery months ago do seem fishy though…given the bodies that disappeared from the Sons warehouse right around the time those bodies from the empty graves were found out in Lodi. Those empty graves were filled by Miss. Y/L/N’s funeral home. Lodi cops seem to have lost steam for the case…and they were satisfied with Miss. Y/L/N’s statements about the incident. Does seem interesting that she comes back to town and just so happens to get involved with a member of SAMCRO right around the time that this whole grave robbing and disappearing bodies situation happens. How convenient for SAMCRO.”

Hale cleared his throat knowing he had his own suspicions about Y/N’s involvement, but he could admit he was choosing to live in denial over the reality of the situation.

He would be lying if he tried to claim he didn’t think of Y/N and didn’t feel some sense of fondness for her.

In some way he still remembered her as the talkative little girl who followed her brother and he around when they were kids.

He thought of her as the lonely child who according to his younger sister never could fit in with their peers.

He'd always felt a sense of care for Y/N none the less. He could remember her being vibrant and brave. She was at times a little too fierce and so unapologetic that it bordered on being rude. He could remember finding the quality somewhat admirable though; her willingness to be so brazen.

As she’d grown she’d seemed determined to follow her brother’s path in the company she kept. Hale had been displeased by her rebellion. He had hoped that her brother's accident would scare her straight but it seemed to push her into a life of chaos. She'd clung to the men who her brother had once run amuck with.

Jackson Teller had seemed willing to take Y/N under his wing and lead her to destruction.

Hale would be lying if he tried to claim he didn’t feel slightly disturbed as he stood aside and watched Y/N grow into an attractive young woman who seemed to be all too comfortable around the local outlaw MC. He’d maybe gone out of his way back then to try to coax her into understanding that she was down a bad path. He'd been a rookie cop back then and had been all too aware of Y/N's bad behavior. He'd tried to reason with her using his past friendship with her brother to coax her into getting on the right path. When Gunner had gotten involved with her that coaxing had increased but Y/N had practically spit in Hale’s face at his attempts to rescue her from her situation.

He’d been grateful when she'd left town. He'd hoped that she was getting her head on straight. When she came back to town Hale had hopes that she’d grown up in her time away. He’d been relieved when it seemed she’d turned over a new leaf.

Hale could admit that he'd been hopeful that she was done with bad boys in kuttes.

He could also admit that he'd felt a sense of attraction for the young woman who had returned to run her father's funeral home. She seemed a far cry from the angry young woman who used to run around with the MC.

He had been stunned to realize that he no longer viewed her as his old childhood friend's rebellious baby sister. She had grown into an elegant young woman who was dedicated to a respectful career.

He had hopes that perhaps her taste in men had matured as well along with the more sophisticated appearance she'd adopted.

He’d maybe even tried to ask her to dinner or coffee once or twice but she’d rejected the offers. He’d told himself not to take offense to her rejection. He'd decided that perhaps Y/N was going through a difficult time, losing her father and being back in a town she probably was not thrilled to be in.

He had told himself to bide his time and be patient. He had hopes that perhaps she would settle into town and then maybe be more inclined to give him at least one date.

He had hopes that perhaps he could shoot his shot with her again, but had his hopes dashed when she clearly became involved with SAMCRO once again. 

When he’d realized she’d chosen Filip Chibs Telford of all men, Hale had been disgusted. The older Scotsman seemed so wrong for her, and she seemed blind to this fact.

It was kind of insulting realizing she'd turned Hale down and chosen Chibs Telford. Though, Hale had a feeling he'd be insulted if she'd chosen any Son after rejecting him more than once.

It was as though Stahl could read his mind because she spoke all too giddy to pull out another file from the stack. “It seems Miss. Y/L/N still favors a bad boy in a kutte and she still likes her men older. Filip Chibs Telford is an interesting man. He has past rumored ties to the True IRA. He’s been arrested a few times in Belfast, but nothing could ever stick. His wife though…he’s still very much married by the way…is True IRA Royalty. Fiona Larkin is third generation True IRA. She got Telford involved in the cause. They were childhood sweethearts from what I know. The two were living as a married couple for a few years before they had their daughter. They have one child, Kerrianne Larkin Telford. She’s about twelve going on thirteen. Looks like they were a happy little family of terrorists for a few years at least. That changed most likely when one Jimmy O’Phalen rose up in the ranks of the cause. Looks like Jimmy O’ didn’t seem to be a fan of Telford. Rumors have it that O’Phalen scarred Telford’s cheeks and took his family as his own…banished Telford from the cause and Ireland. Telford fell in with SAMBEL…guess he didn’t take the threat to get out of Belfast too seriously though it looks like he only remained in Ireland with SAMBEL for a couple of years…he patched over to SAMCRO right around the Spring of 2000. He rolled into town a few months after Miss. Y/L/N left town…can you imagine if he’d made it stateside a few months before she left…the pair would have found each other sooner. Either way it looks like the pair found each other. I spotted them out and about the other day and by the look of affection I spotted him giving her, I would guess Y/N has been given ol lady status by Telford. She doesn't appear to be sporting the crow ink some of the other ol ladies are, but all the same...the looks he was giving her screamed love…do have to wonder if she knows he’s married.”

She paused watching Hale’s jaw tense a smirk crossing her lips before she spoke again. “She knows how to pick them doesn't she? I bet Telford gives Y/N all sorts of juicy bits of pillow talk…sweet little tight thing like her must make him all relaxed and satisfied enough to get those lips moving. Pussy gets men talking; especially trusted pussy that they love. Judging by the looks Telford gives her around town; he’s dedicated. Given his traumatic past and his appearance, I bet it wasn’t hard to get him dedicated. I have a feeling that Y/N doesn’t have to do much to get him talking. Bet she only has to suck him off to get all sorts of information out of him.”

“She’s not going to say a word, if she is an ol lady, she’s been given the orders on how to handle questions about the club. Even if Chibs is giving her details she won’t betray him.” Hale snapped trying to push thoughts of Y/N and Chibs doing anything slightly sexual from his head, the thought feeling him with both disgust and envy of what the Scotsman managed to have with Y/N.

Stahl shrugged her shoulders as she spoke. “Even if she doesn’t know he’s still married? Bet if we dropped some truth on her about her boyfriend’s current marital status, we might get her pissed off enough to run her mouth. If he betrayed her then well…hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

“And if she knows he’s married.” Hale remarked what Stahl was suggesting make bile rise in the back of his throat. Call it a crush or fondness or whatever, but he didn’t like the idea of breaking Y/N’s heart to get information.

“If the tart is fine with being a mistress then I’m sure we can find some other way to get her lips moving. It doesn’t hurt to give her some pressure and see how she handles it.” Stahl provided a smirk crossing her lips at the rage in Hale’s eyes at the statement about Y/N being a tart.

She spoke again, a chuckle leaving her. “Don’t look so gloomy David, this might work in your favor. We get Telford out of the picture and you might just have a shot. Maybe we push her off bad boys, you can play white knight. You can finally put those handcuffs to use with her in a far more pleasant environment. Of course that might put a stop to the fun we’ve been having together hmm, but who am I to stand in the way of true love.”

He scoffed at the comment, his shoulders tensing at the suggestion as well as the implication of what Stahl and he had fallen into.

Stahl let out a sigh. “She can have you when I’m done. Trust me David, we can always press the ol ladies. No information is useless in RICO.”

Hale cringed at the comment, his stomach turning at this plan. 

He took a deep breath, having the feeling that Stahl was in for a challenge. Y/N was a tough nut to crack. 

Pissed off Y/N didn’t run her mouth. She just lashed out.

—----------------------------------------------

Y/N was surprised and relieved to see the roses left on her parent’s gravestones. She could admit she’d not been to the graveside since her father’s burial.

She’d been to the cemetery plenty enough thanks to her work…but she’d not had the nerve to walk over to the section where quite a few of her family were laid to their final rests.

Her paternal ancestors and their spouses were all buried close by one another. The oldest section of the cemetery held her oldest ancestors and their offspring. 

She knew that one day she herself would most likely be buried here alongside her family. There were already two plots at her parents' side that technically belonged to her.

Her father was always one to plan ahead when it came to funerals and had purchased the plots remarking Y/N could keep them for Daniel and herself or if she married and wanted to be buried with her future spouse she could sell her plot.

She had rolled her eyes at the comment about marriage of course. The idea had seemed preposterous given her tumultuous dating history and how most men who might be ideal for a future spouse showed her little interest aside from gazing longingly at her body.

She’d dated a few guys out in New York. She’d even had one pretty serious boyfriend but it had fizzled out before any serious talk about marriage and the future had come to fruition.

She knew her past held her back in her relationships in New York. How was she supposed to explain her past with the MC in Charming to prospective life partners?

She knew her most recent ex-boyfriend had some suspicions about her past…given her tendency to occasionally flinch during moments of intimacy that got a little too rough. She had never worked up the nerve to go into the full story though. She had a feeling her ex had sensed her trauma but had not been equipped to deal with it when she’d shut down any pleas for information about her past.

She was not quite ready to go into her background with that boyfriend. She was certain he couldn’t handle her past. So, she’d pushed him away the same way she did with most boyfriends. Scaring guys and pushing them out with cold behavior was easier than going into detail about her time as a friend of SAMCRO and the pain she’d endured at Gunner’s hands.

Chibs Telford was the first romantic partner who had any knowledge of what Gunner had done to her as well as her past sexual encounters with both Jax and a few other men.

She was stunned by Chibs’ reaction. He not only still wanted her, but had proven to her that he desired her.

It was not an outcome she had imagined when she’d allowed herself to imagine what might happen if she were to ever reveal the darker parts of her past to a man who liked her.

She kept thinking back to the words Chibs had said to her after he’d eaten her out; that he wanted to show her how she deserved to be treated.

It was a new and exciting concept to her; being treated well by a romantic partner.

She hoped that she’d proven to him that she wanted to treat him in kind. She couldn’t help but to think that with his own traumas he deserved to be reminded of how he deserved to be treated as well. 

She’d been more certain that he deserved all the tenderness and adoration on the planet by his reaction to the knowledge that she was planning on going to the gravesite today.

He’d offered to come along with her. He’d wanted to provide her with emotional support when she’d admitted she’d not gone to her parents' gravesite since her father’s funeral.

Y/N could admit she’d been tempted to let him tag along.

She’d resisted the urge to allow it though. She’d told herself that her first visit to the gravesite should be on her own.

Perhaps in the future though; she might let Chibs come with her.

A morbid voice in the back of her head told her it was the most depressing bring the guy you like home to meet the parents' situation, but she shushed the voice. 

She was also overtaken with the realization that she was an orphan now. She had no living parents…so that made her an orphan didn’t it?

A voice in the back of her head told her it was a dumb thought…everyone became an orphan at some point in their lives, so it wasn’t something that was that unique.

She shifted the red roses aside placing the daisies she’d purchased on either parent’s grave.

She had a feeling the roses left on each grave had been Old Charlie’s doing. Roses seemed more his taste than Skeeter’s.

She was not surprised to see that the graves had been well maintained, any flowers that had been left at her father’s funeral being taken away after they’d wilted. The area was clean and polished waiting for her.

She had a feeling that this was both Old Charlie’s and Skeeter’s doing. The men had most likely been out to the gravesite maintaining it until she felt ready to make it out. It was clear that they’d cared enough about her to make it neat and ready for her.

She found herself sitting on the ground directly in front of her father’s tombstone not caring if the dirt below her got her jeans somewhat dirty. It would be a long while before grass grew over the filled in grave. Grass had long ago grown over her mother’s filled in grave given that the woman had died when Y/N was so young.

She sighed, her eyes lingering on her mother’s tombstone for a brief moment. She rarely visited it. Her father had been the one who had gone out to maintain it.

She’d gone once or twice when she was a teenager looking for some maternal connection that she’d craved. She felt foolish for the action knowing she would not find that connection in a cold marble tombstone.

Her mother’s full name was written on the dark marble stone in neat font: Caroline Hope Y/L/N. Beloved Wife and Mother. Her birthdate and death date were written below the inscription. A small dove had been carved into the edge of the stone. It was a simple stone and Y/N had been certain her father had struggled to choose it as he’d planned her mother’s entire funeral.

She’d never quite understood how he’d had the mental strength to embalm and bury the woman he loved, but Y/N assumed that in her father’s mind it was just the last act of love he could give his wife. He’d made sure she was cared for. Y/N could distinctly remember seeing the clothing her mother had been buried in…a modest blue sundress with a white floral print and a pearl necklace. She had only been four then, but somehow her mother’s funeral dress was a core memory that had stuck. Her father had allowed Daniel and her to view their mother in the casket at the funeral. Daniel had run away from it but Y/N had remained staring at the woman. 

She was unsure if she loved or hated her father’s choice of giving her this core memory.

She tore her eyes from her mother’s tombstone, hating to admit she felt disconnected from the woman. Y/N felt a sense of love knowing that this was her mother, but she didn’t remember her clearly enough to feel the sense of grief she told herself she should feel.

She’d always held the thought in; certain it would upset her father. Her mother had been the love of her father’s life. She’d been his first and his last everything.

They’d met as teenagers and were one another’s first love. Her mother’s father had worked the funeral circuit preaching around Charming and surrounding towns and he’d brought his daughter along. Y/N’s father had been the funeral director’s son. 

Y/N’s parents had met for the first time at a funeral. It was not the most romantic meet-cute, but it was her parents. 

Her father had never remarried after her mother’s death. He’d not even dated. He’d remained dedicated to her even in death.

When Y/N was younger she’d hoped that she might be lucky enough to find love that deep with someone. 

As she’d gotten older though she’d become jaded by the concept.

She sighed, staring at her father’s tombstone, the dark marble was simple with her father's name engraved into the stone: Lloyd Oliver Y/L/N. Beloved Father. Dedicated Husband. Respected Mortician. 

The last addition had been her father’s request. Even in death he was proud of his profession.

She felt her throat grow tight telling herself this would feel cathartic even if she was just talking to a marble stone. “I’m sorry I haven’t been out here to visit…I’m actually sorry for a lot of things I’ve done lately.”

She clasped her hands together wringing them, her voice tense. “I can say without any hesitation that if you were still here right now…that saying sorry wouldn’t be enough with what I’ve done. I know how proud you were of our work…how proud you were that I followed you into the work you loved. I’m afraid I’ve sullied it though. You would hate what I’ve done…I fucked it up again, just like I always do. You know me; family disappointment as usual.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, her voice soft. “I’m sorry though, I really really am. I went down a path you’d hate. I got greedy and now I can’t get out of this…the sick thing is I was given a possible way out of it by Filip and I told him no. I am so desperate to burn in the hell of my own making. I…maybe I just like the pain. I think I deserve it in some sick way. How else do you explain why I’m so impulsive? I let the flame burn me and I never figure out that fire hurts…maybe I know it hurts but some part of me likes it. Maybe I’m sick? You did always worry about me…when I was a kid, I was way too interested in your job…Remember that teacher I had in elementary…fourth grade…she thought I was disturbed because I talked about your job so much…maybe I am. I mean what kind of person is so willing to do what I’ve done? What kind of girl prefers the company of the dead because the living scare the hell out of her? Maybe people around town are right about me? I’ve had a few boyfriends in New York tell me I’m not normal. Maybe at the end of the day I’m not right in the head…maybe I’m fucked mentally. How else do you explain the choices I make? I’ve always been quick to anger, too depressed, too impulsive, too starved for risk. I never know what’s good for me. I’ve had nice guys ask me out…back in New York…hell even Deputy Hale tried to take me to dinner pretty soon after I got into town… and I would rather scoop my eyes out with a melon baller than let a nice guy love me. I push people away because it protects me. I go for guys who don’t deserve me…I go for what hurts me. I let someone like Gunner violate me more than once and I stuck around. Maybe my brain is just abnormal.”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I always felt bad for you…two bad kids. How could such a nice guy have such bad kids? I used to blame you for it when you’d scold me for whatever crap I had pulled…say that you were too damn nice and that was probably why I was so rotten. I tried to say that maybe if you were less focused on your job and more focused on Danny and me then we’d not have turned out so bad. I know it was unfair to turn it back on you. I think I was parroting the perceptions I heard from people around town though…poor charitable respected Lloyd Y/L/N dedicated to his service to the community but cursed with two ungrateful brats. You were always fighting to keep me out of jail or worse…always dealing with Danny’s health after the accident…always trying to balance the job with making sure your kids stayed alive. I know Danny and I both gave you hell…You died thinking that I was finally done giving you hell…but surprise.”

She let out a shaky sigh, her fingers reaching out to trace the birth and death date on the tombstone. “You died thinking SAMCRO was a thing of my past…you thought your biker whore daughter had finally grown up…I know you’d hate me for calling myself that. You never were fond of my choice in language especially when I used it to degrade myself. I know I always tried to take some high ground and claim that I was nothing like the girls that hung around the MC and threw themselves at anything in a kutte…was I really any better though at the end of the day? I may have been a bit more discerning in who I fucked but…I still liked a man in a kutte and a criminal record a mile long. I loved the danger…I loved the chaos. Nice guys who worked nine to five jobs just didn’t do it for me like the outlaws could. I wasn’t satisfied with a dick unless the guy attached to it had a rap sheet.”

She rolled her eyes, the words leaving her. “I know…just what every man wants to hear about, his daughter’s sex life. I guess you aren’t really here to hear it though…I hope you’re not hanging around watching me that much. That would be kind of creepy if you were just hanging around watching me 24-7.”

She let out another shaky breath as she spoke. “I met someone…Jesus, Daddy, you’d hate Filip. You would take one look at the reaper on his back and kill him on sight. You’d ship me back to New York if you were still here. You would not even give Filip a minute of your time to even attempt to win you over. You would look at his appearance and who he is and want me to get away from him. You’d see the scars on his cheeks and the kutte on his back and that would be that, no chance of accepting him.”

She shook her head, a small humorless laugh leaving her. “I know the age difference would make you less than enthusiastic. He’s forty five years old…just turned forty five. He was about sixteen when I was born. If that wasn’t enough to make you cringe…He’s got a wife and a kid back in Belfast…they’re estranged but they are still there…You’d take one look at those facts and shoot him on sight. I’m sure you’d take me for a fool…your poor damaged daughter hooked up with the married outlaw biker who is way too old for her…and if that didn’t piss you off you’d be so enraged about his past in Belfast even if I’d lie and try to tell you it's only rumors. I know you would just look at Filip and see danger. You’d see a guy who is going to destroy your kid. You wouldn’t think he’s good enough.”

She traced her father’s name, her voice soft. “I know what I’d say to you though. I’d say that he's good enough. I would tell you I don’t care about Belfast or who lives there…The age difference doesn’t bother me. I’d probably try to push your buttons and spit out some bullshit about how I am happy to call Filip Daddy even if he’s not quite old enough for that unless he was a teen dad. I’d probably tell you that a man his age has the experience to know how to make me feel so good, that he’s far more gifted in bed than guys my age.”

She paused, rolling her eyes. “I never was appropriate and I kind of lived to make you cringe back when I was having my rebellious years. I figured out that being vulgar and oversharing about anything sexual could make you back off and not suspect the reality of what I was going through. I was always capable of looking like a proper lady but my mouth and my tendency to love shocking people always ruined the prim lady disguise I wear.”

She cleared her throat, her words genuine. “I would be telling you the truth about him being worthy of me…he reminds me everyday that he wants to be worthy of having me. He’s tried pretty damn hard to woo me. I think even you’d be approving of the effort he’s put into it…the man didn’t run screaming when I told him what a trocar was. That’s impressive, you’d have to admit it. He asks me questions about my job; not to appease me or charm me, but because he wants to hear what I have to say. He’s been good to me. He makes me feel safe. I don’t think anyone has ever made me feel safe…at least not a romantic partner. I’ve never felt this protected with anyone.”

She felt her throat grow tight, spilling more of her heart. “I told him about Gunner…told him more than I even dared to ever tell anyone…even you. Pretty sure he’s the first person besides a therapist who knows all the details. I told him every last detail. He didn't run away like I feared he would. I was sure he’d run…or worse he’d look at me differently…like I am in fact just the biker groupie everyone around town thought I was back then. I was afraid if he knew about Gunner and the others…that he would surely leave. I mean…how is a guy supposed to cope with the fact that some of the men he shares a kutte with have fucked the girl he’s dating…how is he supposed to deal with the fact that one of those men, even if it’s a man in another charter…did what he did to me…I don’t know, I’ve always struggled with admitting what the lack of consent with Gunner meant…saying the word. Filip is the one who said the word…told me how wrong it was…even told me he wanted Gunner dead for what he did to me. I expected my past to be too much for him or for him to develop this weird jealousy issue…you know how guys are when they know someone else has touched their possessions… Filip though, his reaction was to feel sorrow for me…he wanted to show me what being shown love is supposed to feel like…he wanted to protect me and get retribution for what happened to me. He offered to kill for me, Daddy…and he meant it. I know you’d probably not approve of the fact that he’s capable of such a thing…but I’d have to hope that you’d approve of his desire to keep me safe…to love me. Filip doesn’t view me as a possession. I know you’d find that really really hard to believe…men in his world have some pretty fucked views of women. I’m not claiming he’s some abnormality in that world. I just think I’m as much Filip’s as he’s mine though.”

She sighed knowing she was safe to say the words here with no one to listen. “I love him…I love Filip Telford. He doesn’t know about it yet…I’m half afraid to tell him. What if he doesn’t feel the same? I keep thinking of what you’d say…you’d probably tell me that if he’s dumb enough not to love me then he’s too dumb for me. I need him to love me though…it sounds so pathetic to say it…I've never claimed to need anyone to love me...I have always been the type to say that people can love me or hate me and I don't give a damn either way...I like to think I’m independent…that I could go back to life before I met him…I, so much has changed in my life so fast over these past months. I resisted his affections so much when I first met him...I was afraid of what he'd lead me to...of falling back in with SAMCRO. He's made it clear though that he has zero intention of leading me back into the pain that I found with his world...I’m scared of how my life has changed over these past few months, of how things have changed since you died and I came back home, but Filip…he makes it feel so much less scary. I’ve opened up to him so much about my past and I have never felt comfortable enough with anyone to do that. I don't feel so alone with him around. I've never felt that...belonging. I always try to pretend that I don't mind being alone. I try to say that loneliness is just a part of life...Filip makes me want to stop isolating myself...and not accept the idea that I just have to be alone. I have never had that with anyone...the sense that they feel lucky to have me around...the acceptance of me for who I am. I don't have to pretend not to be so morbid or so quick to anger. I don't feel like I have to hide the parts of me that scare other people around Filip. I need him more than he knows. I just keep hoping that maybe he needs me just as bad.”

She shook her head reaching up to wipe at a stray tear threatening to spill from her eye. "I can’t say that you’d be fond of Filip… I can’t say you two would love each other, or even try to pretend to get along…but I think that maybe my loving him would be enough for you…I think me being happy with him would be enough. You always worried about my happiness…about me finding my place in the world. I want to be in his world…it scares me, but I trust that he would keep me safe.”

She spoke again, pulling her hand back from the stone. “I’m going to visit more often…even if you aren’t here, I know you’re not really here…I want to bring Filip sometime. He wants to come with me…to support me. I’m going to let him. I am letting him in…you’d like that…me letting someone in.”

She adjusted the daisies in front of the stone as she spoke. “Even if you wouldn’t be proud of me, I hope you’d still love me. You told me once that a father never stops loving his child. I hope that’s true.”

She stood up, wiping the dirt from her jeans as she spoke. “I love you, Daddy. I’ll see you later.”

She turned ready to make the long trek back to her car hoping that she could maybe get a latte somewhere to perk up enough to make it to the grocery store to gather the items she needed for the week.

She paused as a woman approached her. The professional looking woman was thin and tall with straight dark blonde hair and a pantsuit that screamed Fed. She appeared to be in her mid thirties at least. Her lips were thin and she wore little makeup. She had a narrow straight nose and well manicured brows. Her eyes were dark and they were fixed on Y/N.

She felt a chill run down her spine as the woman approached her giving a calm smile that did not match the intensity of her gaze. “Y/N Y/L/N?”

Y/N nodded her head, her voice tense, she doing her best to appear relaxed and calm. “Speaking.”

The woman pulled a badge from her jacket pocket revealing that Y/N was right to think fed. “Agent June Stahl, ATF.”

Y/N sighed  keeping that same relaxed demeanor as she spoke. “Can I help you Agent Stahl?”

“I’m guessing you aren’t here on business? More of a personal visit?” Stahl asked, nodding down at the dark wash jeans and gray babydoll tee Y/N was wearing. 

Y/N spoke her stomach turning at Stahl’s avoidance of the question. “I’m not here for work.”

She paused speaking again trying to sound more assertive than she felt. “How can I help you?”

Stahl spoke as she shoved her badge back into her jacket pocket. “What do you know about SAMCRO?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow at the question. Stahl apparently was ready to jump right into it. She shrugged her shoulders giving the company line Chibs had taught her to give though she’d known the line long before Chibs and she had become involved. “That motorcycle club? Pretty sure they’re just a bunch of mechanics who are motorcycle enthusiasts. Pretty sure they throw a good wild party.”

Stahl smirked at the comment, not surprised by it. “Of course, Didn’t you used to be a frequent attendee of those wild parties?”

Y/N shifted in place, her arms crossing over her chest. “I did use to prefer Jack Daniels to mint tea. Didn’t everyone have a rebellious phase?”

Stahl nodded her head, not missing the chance. “And what a phase it was for you. I have to say I’m kind of annoyed but impressed, Y/N, several arrests under your belt and you served not a moment in a real jail cell. Looks like you got more than a few slaps on the wrist though…guess it helps that your daddy was buddy buddy with the local sheriff.”

Y/N held her head up high fast to respond, keeping her voice even refusing to address how her father had always been willing to appeal to Unser to keep her out of any real trouble. “I am not proud of my past behavior. If I could go back I’d change a few things.”

“Is SAMCRO one of those things you might change? I have taken a look at that rap sheet of yours, sweetheart, looks like the innocent club of motorcycle enthusiasts got you into some trouble back in the day.” Stahl remarked, stepping closer to Y/N.

Y/N stepped back a frown crossing her features. “Like I said, I indulged a little too hard back then…people do dumb shit when they’re drunk.”

“Is one of those dumb things Nathaniel Papadopoulos? Or Gunner…as he seems to insist on being called?” Stahl remarked not shy about bringing up something that she knew would make Y/N cringe.

The mention of Gunner did just that. Y/N crossed her arms tighter, her voice picking up a hint of tension. “I did dumb shit when I drank as much as I did. He was the dumbest. I was nineteen years old when I met him…I wasn’t mature enough to pick romantic partners who were the best for me. Pretty sure most nineteen year olds pick shit men. I wised up and left him. It’s ancient history at this point in my life.”

“What about now? Just what kind of men are you picking?” Stahl remarked a cool smile crossing her lips as she attempted to prod the answer from Y/N.

Y/N sighed fast to respond. “Ones who don’t beat the shit out of me.”

Stahl reached into the professional looking messenger bag she had slung around her arm as she spoke, pulling out a file. “You do pick men with records though. You should have a peek at his.”

She handed the file to Y/N watching as the woman gazed down at it searching for any hint of a chance to pounce. 

Y/N gazed down at the open file in front of her, raising a brow at what was clearly Chibs’ rap sheet. She shrugged her shoulders, keeping her calm not bothering to read past a few lines not shocked by what she saw. “Is this supposed to mean something to me?”

Stahl smirked, nodding her head down at the file as she spoke. “Filip Chibs Telford is an interesting man isn't he…if you believe the rumors around town…I find that most rumors have some truth to them.”

She paused nodding down at the file again as she spoke. “You should flip to page two…the arrests in Belfast. He was court martialed and discharged from the Queens Armed Forces at nineteen. Looks like he had a temper in his youth. The arrests in Belfast continue from there. Pretty sure he got into a few brawls on the behalf of the cause…The True IRA tends to frown upon anyone they think may be a loyalist. Looks like Telford took offense to loyalty to the crown, looks like he was not afraid to fight dirty…then there’s the suspicion of a few bombings that he may or may not have been involved in, can’t get a clear answer on that one. Any investigations went nowhere…There were a few rumors about how he may have taken part in the murder of a Northern Irish police officer but there was never any proof to tie him and his associates to it…speaking of his associates in Belfast…his wife…Fiona, she’s definitely True IRA through and through. Third generation, comes by it honestly. Her mugshot is on page three…she got arrested with her husband for one of those brawls I talked about. She is a fiery one…darker than I expected though for an Irishwoman. Pretty sure she’s the Black Irish we always hear about.”

Y/N felt her stomach drop turning the page on autopilot gazing down at the pretty young woman in the photo and a photo of a young Chibs, his face free from the scars that Jimmy O’ had left him with.

Fiona was an elegant looking woman with wild dark curls and piercing dark eyes. Her nose was narrow and her lips were pressed into a smirk that showed she had no worries about having any mugshot taken. She gave off the energy of someone who was well versed in danger and quite content to invoke it if necessary.

Stahl spoke up, a slight smirk on her lips clearly hoping to strike a nerve. “You did know he’s married right?”

Y/N glanced up at Stahl, her face not giving the reaction the woman was probably hoping for. She kept her cool not letting the information of what Chibs had done in Belfast nor the photo of his estranged wife rattle her. “Yes, I was aware. They’re estranged. Divorce unfortunately is not an option…You know how the Catholics are? I’m afraid I don’t know too much about Filip’s years in Belfast aside from the mundane fact that he was a mechanic and that he left some tragedy behind.”

If Stahl was disappointed in Y/N’s reaction she didn’t reveal it as she replied to the comment. “Yes, a true tragedy. I guess you’ve heard all the rumors that fly around Belfast…Jimmy O’Phalen took Fiona and Chibs’ and her daughter for his own…left Telford with a reminder to not even attempt to get them back.”

Y/N clenched down on the file as Stahl motioned to her cheeks lining them along where Chibs’ scars were embedded into his cheeks. She spoke again, a sigh leaving her. “Telford joined up with SAMBEL after that…Guess he was familiar with the MC before hand, so, they were happy to take him on...even though rumor has it O’Phalen banished him from Ireland…guess the banishment finally kicked in though since Telford came stateside back in 2000. He hasn’t seen Fiona or his daughter since Kerrianne was around four. I’m amazed Telford got citizenship in the states…given his record and the trouble he’s gotten into out here.”

Y/N kept her voice flat as she replied. “America is the land of opportunity.”

“That it is…and what opportunity has he found with you?” Stahl dared to ask a small smile crossing her lips hoping to make Y/N squirm.

Y/N spoke knowing the line to give a hint of snark in her voice, deciding that being vulgar might work in her favor. “I open his beers and suck his dick. Pretty sure most men couldn’t ask for more.”

“And what does he say when you wrap those soft lips of yours around that dick of his?” Stahl remarked, proving she was just as vulgar.

Y/N gave her a smile that she hoped read as confident not above continuing with the line of conversation though she was full of shit…they’d not gone that far sexually just yet. “Pretty sure he’s too busy moaning when I take him down my throat. That Scottish accent of his is hard enough to understand on its own…the second he gets is dick wet I may as well not even try to decipher Glaswegian.”

“And what about afterwards…any juicy bits of pillowtalk? Orgasms tend to make lips loose, I find.” Stahl dared to ask she stepping even closer to Y/N.

Y/N gave her a calm smile, the words sliding from her. “He tends to start snoring after he cums…You know men. You rock their world and they reward you by conking out.”

She paused lying through her teeth deciding that playing up the sexual role would work in her favor. 

It was a game she’d learned to play during her time in the clubhouse…when she wanted to entice a man into giving her what she wanted. 

She found that playing the minx could work in her favor with men and could make straight women intimidated enough to slink back. “I will say that that is the one advantage to getting your rocks off with a woman. Women are a little better at pillowtalk…too bad I like a good thick dick more than a nice wet pussy.”

Stahl smirked giving Y/N a reaction that she’d expected to get if she’d been talking to a man. She sighed, the realization hitting her that Stahl was playing on both teams. She recognized a raging bisexual when she saw one. “I can only imagine…what a shame you have your preferences.”

Y/N spoke as she stepped back, dropping the flirty tone from her voice. “I don’t know too much about SAMCRO. I can’t imagine they’re too interesting. Just a bunch of mechanics who love a good Harley and a crazy party…Like I said, any trouble they may find is usually aided by booze…people do dumb shit when they drink. I’m afraid my party days are over. Most people don’t like the idea of the local undertaker sliding around a stripper pole in a biker clubhouse. Pretty sure Filip would not be too into the idea of seeing me on any pole unless he’s the only one watching.”

“I’ll say it again, what a shame.” Stahl remarked that smirk still on her lips though Y/N did spot a hint of annoyance in the woman’s eyes at the fact that Y/N was still feeding the company line on SAMCRO.

She paused speaking again. “Telford and you make an interesting pair…a funeral director and a biker…just how did you meet?”

Y/N gave her a calm smile, the lie sliding from her lips. “My Acura got a flat tire. We got to talking and one thing led to another. I’ve always had a thing for accents.”

Stahl spoke up, nodding over Y/N shoulder at the gravestones. “You came back to Charming to a big mess from what I heard. Your father left you with some debt?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Y/N remarked her voice cool and collected she snapping the folder she’d been holding shut.

Stahl nodded her head at the comment she daring to bring out the big guns. “I’ve taken a peek at those debts of yours. You paid a little chunk of them off in cash…Just where did you get the cash? The payment was in the thousands. Lots of cash to having lying around with your debts.”

Y/N remembered the lie Chibs had told her to tell. She was relieved he’d given her enough background about Clay and Gemma’s finances, so that she could tell a believable story.  “Gemma Teller Morrow asked for my expertise. Her poor grandson having such a frightful entrance into the world got her thinking about her own mortality. Her husband and she were willing to pay me quite well for my time to discuss plans. They know my time is valuable and they took up quite a bit of it…They were willing to make it worth my while as they kept me so busy and out of reach from any of my other duties at work…pretty sure Gemma has some oil investments that give her some nice payouts. I came to them for the plans…made a trip out to the garage to discuss it all and went through the trouble of bringing all of the catalogs I have. They choose a luxury option for their caskets…mahogany and satin. I don’t do home visits for funeral planning, so they wanted to make sure I was compensated for the exception I made for them. They paid me double my usual rate plus travel expenses.”

“That is an extravagant payout.” Stahl remarked her tone of voice hinting she did not buy Y/N’s tale.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, her voice calm knowing she sounded heartless, but it was better to sound heartless than guilty. “People will pay anything to have peace of mind when it comes to death.”

Stahl dared to speak, nodding again at the cemetery around them. “I would have thought they might shy away from using your services…given what happened to those two men you buried a while back.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh shaking her head. “The grave robberies were an unfortunate incident. The families of those poor men were heartbroken over what happened to their loved ones' remains. I did everything in my power to make sure that they were cared for. The family was far more understanding than they had to be. They know I did my part when it came to the care of their loved ones before their final rests were disturbed. I hope the Lodi police find whoever was responsible for such a gruesome act. If I got my hands on them…well let’s just say I don’t approve of anyone fucking with my paychecks.”

Stahl smirked, hating to admit she was impressed with how quick the response was. Y/N was not an easy nut to crack. “And your boyfriend had nothing to do with those empty graves.”

“Why would Filip have anything to do with it? He’s just a mechanic.” Y/N remarked a small laugh leaving her she managing to make the accusation appear as though it sounded ridiculous to her.

“A mechanic with quite the record. You should hang on to that file, Y/N. Take a good look at it. There’s some really interesting bits of information there. Filip Telford is far from innocent. I think you are smart enough to know that. I am also thinking you aren’t so innocent either…that must be why he’s so obsessed with you. If that wife of his is any indication of the kind of woman he likes…then you are one bad girl.” Stahl remarked, nodding down to the folder still in Y/N’s hands.

Y/N gave Stahl a calm smile shrugging her shoulders. “I’m an absolute angel, Agent Stahl.”

She paused, giving the agent a flirty smile as she stepped around her ready to pass. “At least outside the bedroom. Now, if you excuse me. I have some errands to attend to. If you have any further questions you can find me at the funeral home.”

And with that Y/N found herself heading back to her car the folder she held clutched tightly in her hand.

She couldn’t decide if she wanted to burn the folder or not.

—-------------------------------

Chibs sighed rolling his eyes at Juice as he rounded the billiards table for what felt like the hundredth time. 

He spoke nodding down at the pool cue in the younger man’s hands. “Are ya takin yer damn shot or not? I ain’ got all day, Juicey.”

Juice scowled at the older man, his voice tight. “We put money on this okay? I don’t trust you after last time. I still say you hustled me, talked that damn croweater into distracting me and putting me off my game.”

“Aint my fault yer a shite pool player. I won fair an square.” Chibs snapped back a small smirk on his lips knowing that he had maybe talked the buxom blonde croweater Juice was recalling into helping distract Juice from the game.

It hadn’t been too selfish in Chibs’ opinion. He got Juice laid.

Chibs sighed as his cell phone began to chime he yanking it from his kutte knowing he might as well have a phone call since Juice was nowhere near getting on with the game.

He felt his heart lift at the familiar number as it flashed along his screen. He hit accept call, his voice becoming far more cheery than it had been moments before. “Hen, what are ye doin?”

“I need you, Filip.” She blurted out the comment striking him off guard.

The words were appealing but he was not hearing them in the context he would prefer. Her voice seemed panicked.

She spoke again knowing she sounded paranoid but a voice told her if Stahl was interested in her then who was to say that the feds hadn’t found a way to listen in on her calls. She had little idea how bugging phones worked outside of movies. “I need help with my lamb…seasoning it. You know what to do with lamb.”

Chibs furrowed his brow, thrown off even more by the comment. Y/N didn’t eat lamb.

He’d learned that bit of information when he’d mentioned Half Sack’s vegetarianism to Y/N as well as Gemma’s criticism of vegetarians. Y/N had commented that she was not a vegetarian and didn’t think she would be strong willed enough to be one. She did admit that she couldn’t bring herself to eat veal or lamb though. She had commented that she knew it was stupid as she’d eat the adult versions of cows at least…but she couldn’t get herself to eat lamb nor veal as they were both baby animals. He could remember finding the comment kind of sweet though amusing.

He felt his stomach turn it hitting him she was worried that someone was listening in on the conversation. 

He spoke trying to keep his calm and not fly off the handle at the thought. “Are ya safe, Love? Is anyone following ya? Are ya alone?”

“Yeah, no. You know it. I uh…just ran into someone while I was out…we got to talking as she reminded me of how much a pain lamb is to deal with. I know you know just what to do with lamb. So, I thought I’d call in the expert. I thought I might call Gemma about it…you remember what she told me about lamb back when we met to make those future funeral plans for Clay and her. I figured that you might be the person to go to though.” Y/N remarked still keeping her cool not helping but to feel like a moron for this entire charade.

She had a feeling that Chibs seemed to have caught up on the game though and was intelligent enough to decode what she was trying to say.

He spoke tossing the pool cue he’d been holding down on the table not caring if it scattered the balls and alarmed Juice. “Aye, I’ll be there, Hen. Don’t ya worry Mo ghràidh. I’ll handle the lamb fer ye.”

“Okay, be at my place…I’m headed there now.” She provided saying the remaining words in her head. I love you, Filip.

“Aye, I’ll be there soon.” He replied unaware that she was thinking the same thing he was currently thinking. I love you.

He hung up his cell sending Juice nod as he turned to leave. “Game’s over, Laddie. If Clay asks I’m goin to see my ol lady. Gotta help her with some lamb. Tell Gemma to give me a call. She knows what to do with lamb.”

Juice furrowed his brow as he watched Chibs leave the man not paying him any mind. He spoke to an empty clubhouse completely confused by the interaction. “Lamb?”

—----------------------------------------------

Her lips met his the second he walked in the door.

Chibs let himself into Y/L/N and Sons Funeral Home well past knocking and waiting for someone to allow him entrance.

He’d spent almost every night in the home this past week, so formalites like knocking had been forgotten.

He made his way upstairs nodding to Skeeter, the man giving him only rolled eyes in response.

As soon as Chibs stepped past the sliding door that led him into Y/N’s living quarters her lips met his in a bruising kiss.

He returned the kiss, his hands sliding along her body appreciating the figure he’d been shamefully admiring since their first meeting.

She pulled from his lips reluctantly, her voice sounding frantic now that she was far away from Agent Stahl. “An ATF agent ran into me at the cemetery today. Had some questions for me.”

“Shite, who was it?” Chibs dared to ask, having the feeling he already knew the answer.

Y/N took a deep breath trying to calm her anxieties. “Agent Stahl…fucking bitch tried to push my buttons by asking me about my past…Gunner and some other shit. She was eager to mention your wife…and shit that happened in Belfast. Tried to show me mugshots and your criminal record. She left a freaking file with me and told me to take a look at it so I could learn all about you. She’s trying to make me crack and run my mouth. Pretty sure she thinks that if she makes me afraid of you then I’ll turn and give her enough to go after SAMCRO.”

Chibs clenched his jaw, shaking his head, his hold on Y/N tightening. “What’d ye say?”

“I told her I know nothing about what you were up to in Belfast. I know about your wife and am unbothered by it. I know nothing about SAMCRO. I told her all I do is suck your dick and open your beers…I got pretty graphic on that last detail.”

Chibs smirked at the comment, his hand wandering down her body to give her backside a squeeze he was unable to stop himself. “Aye, ye ain given me that privilege yet, Hen. Probably had to use yer imagination on that one, aye?”

She sighed, shaking her head at the comment though it did make a hint of smile cross her features. “I thought the lewd angle would unnerve her…I have the weirdest sense that it turned her on. Pretty sure I can spot a bisexual from a mile away.”

Chibs rose a brow at the information. He spoke, shaking his head at the comment. “Ye know I would rather hear bout ye gettin a woman hot and bothered if she wasn’t a Fed.”

“I know you would…sadly I’m telling you what I told her…pussy doesn’t do it for me the same way a dick does. I have no interest in muff diving anytime soon, sorry to break your heart.” She commented, not shocked by this line of conversation. He truly was a male through and through.

“Aye, can’t say I’m disappointed…I don’t like sharin.” He remarked, surprising her by the certainty in his voice.

He sighed his hand running up and down her back as he spoke again. “Did ye look at the record? My rap sheet?”

“Not really…She mentioned a bunch of crap you pulled in Belfast. Saw a mugshot of Fiona and you…Stahl loved shoving that in my face. She tried to coax me into looking into the entire file.” Y/N explained noticing the tension in Chibs’ body at the mention of his estranged wife and of Belfast.

He felt his throat grow tight as he spoke again knowing that there was nothing he regretted in that file she was discussing. He had to fear that Y/N might find some things she was not pleased to learn about him…especially during his time with the cause. “Wouldn’t care if ye wanted to look at the entire file…ye probably should know bout the lad yer datin.” 

Y/N spoke so certain of the words that left her. “I know who I’m dating. I’m dating someone who has been so sweet and so protective of me right from the start. I’m dating someone who makes me laugh and as I recall eats me out like his life depends on it…which indicates he’s going to be pretty well versed in doing other things in the bedroom.”

She paused, pressing a kiss to his cheek catching the hitch in his breath at the mention of their bedroom activities. She spoke again, her voice soothing. “I’m dating a man who has known more pain than any human being should ever have to know, but still remains so strong and so compassionate. I’m dating a man who is loyal to his brothers and would do whatever it takes to protect what he believes in. I’m dating a guy who goes above and beyond to look out for me. He rushed all the way over here after I called him ranting about lamb like a nutcase…he offered to kill someone for me because he knows they caused me pain.”

She spotted his hold on her grew tighter at the mention of Gunner. She spoke once again, her lips pressing back to his cheek. “The man I’m dating has listened to me cry over my brother and my father on our first date and didn’t run screaming. He doesn’t care if my job scares the hell out of everyone. He treats me better than I ever believed I deserved. He proves to me each and every day that he wants me to be treated with all the adoration and security on the planet. He makes me feel safer than anyone has ever been capable of making me feel. I know just who I’m dating. I don’t need a criminal record to tell me a thing about him. I know who he is outside of shit he’s done.”

He sighed, his lips sliding along hers relief washing over him. She spoke as she pulled from the kiss her voice soft. “I don’t need a fucking ATF agent to tell me who I’m dating, because I know him better than she ever will.”

She spoke again, her voice firm. “I am not telling her shit. I’m sure it won’t be the last time she tries to press me over this. I know that ATF is up SAMCRO’s collective ass right now. I’m not telling her a thing though Filip.”

“Aye, I know, Hen. I trust ye. Ye did so good, Love. Fuckin gash doesn’ stand a chance with my lass.” Chibs praised her, the comment making Y/N preen somewhat. She was surprised by the feeling. She didn’t think she had a praise kink, but anything was possible.

He pressed a kiss to her lips he fast to speak again. “I want ye to keep tellin her the same thing, Hen. Ye don’t know shite. She ain’ got nothin on ye. She probably thought the fuckin life I was forced from in Belfast was some big secret I was keepin from ye.”

Y/N nodded her head knowing that was exactly what Stahl had been hoping for. She spoke a soft sigh leaving her. “She brought up the empty graves…Kept my story the same as always.”

“That’s my hen. Ye know yer in the clear on that mo ghràidh. Ye’d already be in handcuffs and been carted away if they had shite on that.” Chibs reassured her a sense of comfort washing over at at the words.

She knew he was right. It had been long enough. Lodi had left her alone and she had a feeling the ATF didn’t care about two empty graves when the local P.D. had failed to connect the dots between her, SAMCRO, and those bodies.

She had a feeling the ATF was more interested in the gun running that SAMCRO was secretly engaging in. 

Any pressure Stahl was placing on her was to entice her into slipping up and saying something Chibs had told her in confidence. She knew that the agent was getting nothing from her. 

Y/N would never betray the man she loved no matter how much Stahl irritated her and attempted to intimidate her.

She allowed her lips to slide along Chibs’ , the pair growing lost in the moment. She parted her lips from his knowing that there was only one thing she wanted at this moment that could make this day seem less awful. “I want you to take me to my room and love me so good that I forget all this crap.”

Chibs felt his heart rate increase at the comment, a warm flush of lust spreading throughout him. Was she offering what he hoped? “Aye, is that so? Are ye sure, Hen? Ye want it all?”

She nodded her head stunned at the realization of how badly she wanted this. She pressed her lips to his the kiss feather light before she spoke. “I am so sure. Take me to my room and love me Filip.”

He felt the moan leave his lips as she took his hands in hers leading him from the room to their destination. 

He knew he had every intention of giving her what she was asking for.