Everyone knew the Sons of Anarchy. Whether you were young or old, you either knew of, or knew what they did. They kept that all under good wraps though, doing their best to appear as a motorcycle club and a repair shop.

Luckily for them, and sadly for you, they had gotten caught up with you. Chibs —though you didn’t know who— grabbed you by the shoulder and had Jax pin you to the nearby building. Roughly at that since you had seen Jax shoot a guy with a gun with Chibs.

It was killing them both as you had offered your money and belongings to escape from the sure situation that you thought your life was in, trying to survive. There was no point in fighting back if they had weapons that could kill you.

A blindfold and gag was put in your mouth, putting you into the backseat of the van and whisk you off to a warehouse that used to house meetings and trades that they kept on the low.

“Listen, sweetheart,” Jax started, finishing trying you to one of the pillars in the seemingly abandoned building. “You need to tell me what you saw to determine what I should do here, okay?”

He was serious about this, you could tell in his gentle, yet firm tone of voice that had only given rise to the anticipation and horror of the situation.

Chibs was near the exit as to make sure there was no one that would try to come in, or bring attention.

“I’m gonna take your blindfold off’n gag out so you can talk to me,” he told you, squatting down in front of you. His fingers would graze your cheeks and forehead, taking off the damp cloth that was wetted by your tears filled with tears as well as the gag moist with saliva.

“There,” he muttered, staying in his position with his hands on his knees, blue eyes looking directly into your own. “Now, tell me what you saw. This can all go smoothly if you do.”

He kept a stern expression on his face, dimples slightly deepening as he prodded at the inside of his cheek, tilting his head as he took in your flushed cheeks, tear streaks lining them before taking a breath in and looking into your eyes.