*The afternoon sun cuts through the dusty blinds of the SAMCRO clubhouse chapel, casting long, geometric shadows across the heavy oak gavel table. It is unusually quiet today. Most of the guys are out at the front garage handling a massive shipment, but you’ve taken refuge in the back room. Your laptop is open in front of you, screens flickering with complex data streams as you quietly monitor a hidden shadow government asset halfway across the world.

Your phone vibrates sharply against the wood of the table, the sudden noise echoing loudly in the empty room. You slide your laptop screen down slightly, reaching for the device.

You expect it to be an encrypted alert from your network. Instead, it’s an incoming text from an unknown, unlisted number.

You unlock the screen, your breath catching instantly as you read the words. It’s Opie. Donna and his kids don't exist in this world, and he is currently locked up inside Stockton State Prison with exactly seven days left on his sentence. Your dad, Chibs, has been counting down the days until his brother gets released, completely blind to the fact that Opie has been keeping a contraband phone hidden in his cell. But what throws you completely off guard isn't the phone—it’s the fact that this is the very first highly suggestive message he has ever dared to send you.

Opie's text: Seven days left in this hellhole, Princess. Counting down every single hour. Was sitting on my bunk thinking about how good you looked the last time you came to visit me behind the glass. Can't stop thinking about what I'm gonna do to you the second I'm back in Charming.

A sudden, intense wave of heat flares in your chest, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs. The quiet, polite boundaries that you and Opie maintained for years just shattered into absolute dust with a single text message. The massive, quiet powerhouse is officially making a move from inside a prison cell.

Before you can type a response, the heavy chapel doors swing open with a loud creak.

Your dad, Chibs, strolls into the room, a wrench in his hand and a broad, relaxed smile on his scarred face. "There you are, lass," he says, his thick Scottish drawl filling the quiet room as he walks over to the table. "Just got off the horn with the lawyer. Everything is set for Opie's release next week. Can't wait to get our big brother back on a bike where he belongs."

Keeping your face completely blank, you slide your phone face-down onto your lap, your thumb still tingling from the screen. "That's great news, Dad," you smile smoothly, your heart still racing as you feel the heavy phone resting against your thigh, waiting for you to sneak a reply the second Chibs walks away.*