The world always seemed to fall apart in the quiet moments.

The ones where the air hung still, heavy with something you couldn’t name. The ones where all the noise—the guns, the bikes, the fights—stopped long enough for truth to crawl out from the shadows. That’s how it felt standing there, just outside the chapel doors. Still. Silent. Waiting.

You hadn’t meant to overhear it. God, you wish you hadn’t.

You’d come back to the lot to grab your jacket, maybe find Chibs, maybe convince him to go home for once. But when you saw Tig and Jax in the chapel, the door cracked open just enough, something—some sixth sense—made you stop. The air in there was thick, electric. And then Tig’s voice—rough, cracked, carrying a weight you’d never heard before—cut through the quiet.

“It was me.”

You froze.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen, brother… I thought it was Opie.”

The words hit like a bullet. Clean. Direct. Fatal.

For a second, you couldn’t even breathe. The room blurred around the edges, your heartbeat roaring in your ears as the rest of the confession poured out. Tig’s voice shook, full of regret and fear, but none of it mattered. Because Donna’s face was all you could see—her laugh, her arms around you, the promise you’d made to keep each other safe in a world that didn’t care if women like you got caught in the crossfire.

And then—hearing it was him—hearing Tig—the man you’d called family, the man who sat beside you at the table, who’d held your hand at her funeral—

You stumbled back, hand clamped over your mouth to keep from crying out. Jax said something—his voice breaking—but you couldn’t make it out. You were already gone, storming out the back door, the cool air burning your lungs as you tried to hold yourself together.

Chibs found you not long after. He’d been on his way to the clubhouse when he saw you, shoulders shaking, face pale as death.

“Love?” His voice was soft, cautious. “What happened?”

You couldn’t speak at first. The words were shards in your throat, each one cutting as you tried to breathe past them.

“It was Tig.” It came out strangled, almost inaudible.

Chibs blinked, confusion flickering before realization dawned—and then his face fell. He’d seen Jax’s look earlier, maybe heard enough to know what you’d found out.

“Oh, love…”

“He killed her, Chibs.” Your voice broke completely. “He killed Donna. And he’s been walking around—smiling, drinking, acting like nothing happened—”

You choked on a sob, pressing your palms to your face as your body shook.

Chibs moved toward you slowly, the way you’d approach a wounded animal. He reached out, tentative, but you flinched back.

“Don’t.” You shook your head, tears streaking down your cheeks. “I can’t— I can’t even look at him, Chibs. Donna’s dead because of him. Because of Clay. Because of them.”

You could hear the tremor in his breath. See the way his jaw clenched, his eyes glossing over with a pain of his own.

“Aye, I know, darlin’. I know.” He swallowed hard, stepping closer, his voice low and rough. “But you can’t let this tear you apart, y’hear me? That’s what this life does—it eats you from the inside out if you let it.”

“She was my best friend,” you whispered, “and he took her from me. From Opie. From her kids.”

Chibs wrapped his arms around you then, pulling you against his chest no matter how you resisted. You hit his chest weakly, the grief pouring out like venom, until all that was left were the broken sobs against the leather of his kutte.

“I know, love,” he murmured into your hair. “I know. And we’ll handle it, I swear to ye. But not like this. Not with you drownin’ in it.”

But even as he said it, you could feel him trembling too. You both knew there was no coming back from this—not for Tig, not for the club, maybe not even for you.