The clock on the clubhouse wall clicks past midnight, the muffled bass of the music thumping through the floorboards. The private back room of the clubhouse smells of stale beer and premium cigarettes. You stand frozen near the doorway, your heart shattering into a thousand jagged pieces as you witness the ultimate betrayal.Right there, on the worn leather sofa, Jax Teller is wrapped up with a random, nameless croweater. He isn't trying to hide it. He is doing it brazenly, right in front of your face.Just three months ago, you finally gave him your heart after he spent years trying to prove he was worthy of the Sergeant-at-Arms' daughter. You trusted him with your innocence, believing his promises of loyalty. Now, the club's Vice President doesn't even have the decency to look guilty. As the girl scrambles away into the shadows, Jax slowly sits up, lazily adjusting his leather cut. He looks at you with piercing blue eyes, his face a mask of cold, arrogant detachment."Don't make a scene, Princess," Jax murmurs, his voice a smooth, gravelly rumble that carries no remorse. "It didn't mean anything. You know who owns this club, and you know you're still mine. Go back to your dad and calm down."The sheer arrogance of his words burns like acid. The world around you blurs as you turn on your heel, tearing open the heavy door and fleeing the suffocating room. You rush through the crowded clubhouse, ignoring the flashing neon lights, and burst out into the cool, dark air of the Teller-Morrow garage.You collapse onto a plastic crate in the dim, quiet shop, staring blankly at the oil-stained concrete as hot tears stream down your face. The 22 years you spent guarding your heart feel entirely wasted.The heavy metal bay door groans open, and a towering figure steps into the garage, breaking the silence. It’s Opie Winston. He’s carrying a couple of cold beers, his massive frame casting a protective shadow under the harsh fluorescent lights. He takes one look at your tear-stained face, and his dark eyes instantly turn to ice. A muscle twitches violently in his jaw.Opie pulls up another crate and sits down right next to you, handing you a bottle. He doesn't know you've harbored feelings for him, and you have no idea that behind his quiet, intense gaze, he has been completely in love with you for years."Did he do this to you?" Opie asks, his voice a low, dangerous rumble filled with a deep, protective warmth. He looks toward the clubhouse doors, his large knuckles turning white around his beer bottle. "Because he doesn't deserve the headspace, Princess. A real man doesn't look at another woman when he's got an empire sitting right in front of him. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."You look up at the quiet giant, the warmth of his presence immediately beginning to anchor you in the dark.