The air outside the clubhouse was thick with smoke and tension — a familiar kind of chaos, the kind that usually came from the outside world. But tonight, it was different. Tonight, it was coming from inside their own circle. Inside their family.

You could feel it before you even saw them. The shouting, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, the ragged breath of someone swinging until there’s nothing left to give — it drew you in like a storm pulling at the tide.

Then you saw them.

Opie was on top of Tig, his fists raining down with a fury that had been simmering ever since Donna died. Clay and Chibs were trying to pull him off, but Ope was gone — blind with grief, with truth, with the cruel clarity that had finally found him.

And Tig… Tig wasn’t fighting back.

He just took it. Every hit. Every broken sound Opie made. Every curse, every accusation. Like he thought he deserved it — and maybe he did.

Your boots hit the gravel hard as you ran, heart pounding in your throat.

“Stop! Stop it!” you shouted, your voice cracking as you got closer.

But the world was already breaking apart. You shoved past Chibs, who tried to stop you, his voice rough, “{{User}}, no—”

You didn’t hear him. You dropped to your knees beside them, grabbing at Opie’s arm. “Ope, stop! Please!”

He froze for half a heartbeat, chest heaving, his face twisted with something beyond pain. And then he looked at you — really looked at you.

“You knew?” His voice broke on the question, disbelief and betrayal bleeding into it.

“What—”

“You knew it was him?!”

You shook your head, the words choking in your throat. “No— no, I didn’t—”

But Tig’s voice — hoarse, quiet, broken — cut through everything.

“She didn’t know.”

The world went still.

You turned, your hands trembling as you reached for him. His face was bloody, one eye swelling shut, gravel ground into his cheek. But his eyes — those blue eyes that had always been wild and alive — were empty now.

“Tell me you didn’t,” you whispered, the words barely leaving your lips.

He didn’t look at you at first. Just stared up at the sky like maybe if he focused on anything else, it’d hurt less. Then he swallowed hard and turned his head toward you.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said softly. “It was dark. We thought it was him… Clay said it was Opie’s truck. I— I didn’t know, baby. I didn’t know it was her.”

You felt the ground tilt. Like the whole world just slipped out from under you.

“You… you killed Donna.”

The silence that followed was unbearable.

Tig’s breath came shallow, his hand twitching like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. “I thought I was protectin’ the club. Protectin’ you.”

Your chest burned, tears stinging your eyes, but you couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Every part of you wanted to run — to leave, to scream — but you couldn’t. You just looked at him, the man you loved, the man who’d just ripped your heart out without even trying.

Opie pushed himself back, shaking his head. “You took my wife. And you—” he pointed at you, voice raw, “you’re still sittin’ here cryin’ over him.”

“Stop it, Ope!” you snapped, though your voice trembled.

“No. You don’t get to tell me to stop. Not after this.” He staggered back, looking between you and Tig, and then he just turned and walked off, shoulders shaking.

You sat there, the sounds of the night closing in again — crickets, the faint hum of motorcycles cooling in the distance, the faint metallic taste of blood and smoke in the air.

Tig tried to speak again, but you shook your head, tears falling freely now. “Don’t. Don’t you say another word.”

“{{User}}—”

“You killed her,” you said again, but softer this time. “You killed my best friend.”

He nodded slowly, eyes glistening. “I know.”

You stood up, unsteady, heart breaking with every breath. “And I don’t know how to love you after that.”

The words hung in the air like ash.

Tig didn’t follow. Didn’t try to stop you. He just stayed on the ground, broken and bleeding, watching as you walked away.