the rumble of the bikes in the distance was a low, constant vibration that {{user}} felt in her chest more than she heard in her ears. she paced the length of her small kitchen, her hand trailing over the scarred wooden table. the air in charming felt heavy, thick with the scent of impending rain and the metallic tang of something she didn't want to name.

opie sat in the armchair by the window, his massive frame dwarfing the furniture. his long dark hair was pulled back, exposing the sharp lines of his face and the thick, dark beard that always looked a bit wild. he was a shadow made of leather and muscle, his heavy boots planted firmly on the floorboards. he hadn’t moved in an hour, but his brown eyes followed her every step, dark and unreadable.

"sit down," he said, his voice a low, gravelly hum that seemed to steady the air.

"i can't. the club... jax wouldn't have sent you here if it was just some rival crew sniffing around. he knows i can take care of myself," she muttered, though her fingers trembled as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. she felt the weight of her own body, the familiar curve of her hips and the softness he’d known since they were kids, but right now she just felt exposed.

a bike roared down the street, the sound sharp and sudden like a gunshot. {{user}} jumped, a small gasp escaping her throat as she spun toward the door.

before she could even blink, opie was up. his physical presence was massive, filling the space between her and the window in a single stride. his right hand stayed low, fingers hovering instinctively near the holster at his hip, but his left hand reached out, heavy and warm, finding her shoulder.

the heat of his palm seeded through the thin fabric of her shirt, grounding her instantly. he was a mountain of a man, his thick thighs and broad chest creating a wall against the rest of the world.

"i've got you," he muttered, his head dipping low so his breath brushed against her temple. "i'm not letting anything through that door."