💘( Mending the King! )✨

THIRTY

[ June Wedding ]

( 🤴🔨👸💋💑🏍 )

" I'm taking a play out of your book, darling. You lied about killing Alvarez, played your little games again—and you want me to forgive you? Fine. But forgiveness has a price. And if you want your son back, you'll pay it. "

~ OSCAR DUNCAN to ALU ORTIZ 

☆《》¤

JAX TELLER sat on the edge of his unmade bed, staring blankly at the scattered polaroids on the small desk by the window. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sitting between his lips as his eyes scanned over the perfect body of one Alu Ortiz that was captured in time.

One Week Earlier 

The afternoon sun filtered through the thin curtains of the small dorm room inside SAMBEL'S clubhouse, dust motes dancing over the old-screechy wooden bed frame. Jax lay on his back, the sheets tangled around his waist, his breathing heavy but steady. Alu stretched out beside him, her hair spilling over the pillow, a sly smile playing on her lips as she toyed with an old Polaroid camera she had found. 

"Where'd you even get that?" Jax asked, his voice low and rough. 

"Found it in the closet," Alu replied, turning the camera over in her hands. She sat up, the sheet slipping down to reveal her hardened nipples and aimed the camera at Jax. "Smile, baby." 

"Alu," he warned, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

"Relax, Jacky," she purred, clicking the shutter. The flash briefly illuminated the room, capturing Jax in all his post-coital glory. "I want to remember this moment." Her voice low and dripping with satisfaction as she traced her fingers along his jaw. "Jax Teller, breathless, flushed, and completely at my mercy."

Jax chuckled, shaking his head, "You're imagining things, babe."

"Is that why your were screaming my name and begging me not to stop?" she quipped, snapping another photo.

But this time, she turned the camera onto herself, letting the sheet fall further as she posed provocatively. Moaning, and snapping her head back as her hands slowly wondered down her body to her secret garden. The camera whirred, spitting out a developing photo that she waved in the air, before holding it up to inspect, "Not bad," she said, grinning mischievously as she turned it over to show Jax.

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer as a pleasurable groan left his lips, "Not bad?" he echoed, his voice thick with desire. "You're killing me, baby girl," he grunted, his boner springing back to life. 

"Mm...that's the idea," she teased, snapping one more photo, this time of the two of them together, as she straddled his waist, and strarted to grind against him, both of them laughing and flushed. "You still have to make me cum." 

Jax caught her wrist again, this time taking the camera and setting it aside, "Enough pictures," he murmured, rolling her onto her back. "No more games. It's time for you punishment, naughty girl." 

Alu's laughter echoed through the room, her cheekiness melting into something softer as Jax captured her lips with his, the Polaroids left to develop on the nightstand—a tangible memory of a stolen moment amidst the chaos of their search for Abel.

The sound of The door creaking open, snapped Jax out of his trance like state. 

Gemma stepped inside without knocking, her presence immediately filling the room with her usual mix of authority and maternal concern. Glancing around the room, she broke the suffercating silence, "Still here, huh? Thought you'd be back home by now—with your pregnant old lady."

Jax barley acknowledged his mother's presence as he replied, "Not your concern, Ma."

"Oh, it's my concern when my son's dragging his feet," she said, moving further into the room and finding the pile of polariods. "Hope your hesitation doesn't have anything to do with a certain Puerto Rican," she said, holding up a full-front nude polariod of Alu. 

Jax finally met his mother's gaze, his jaw tightening, "Don't start," he warned.  

Gemma grinned wickedly, "Why not? That girl's poison, Jackson. You wanna lose Tara—and that baby—because you can't keep it in your pants?"

Jax stood abruptly, his tone rising, "Enough! I'm not doing this with you again."

Gemma narrowed her eyes, her mouth opening for another retort, but Jax cut her off by changing the subject, "You call your lawyer yet?"

Gemma paausd, clearly irritated by the subject change but answers regardless, "Got a meeting with Kimchee later."

Jax nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly, "Good. We need you out of this mess. You're no good to anyone locked up, Ma. Kimchee's the best shot at getting you off clean."

Gemma's features softened slightly, sensing the shift in her son's tone, "I know. Don't worry about me, Jackson. You worry about that family of yours. Keep your head on straight, yeah?"

Jax didn't respond, simply turning back toward the desk, staring down at the polaroids longingly. Gemma watched him for a moment longer, before walking away, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Jax exhaled deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. His mind was a storm, but he knew one thing for sure—he has to find a way to fix things, before it all spiralled out of control.  

***

The sound of muffled sobs broke through the eerie stillness of the early morning. Rosetta stumbled as Oscar dragged her by the arm, tears streaming down her pale face. Her voice frantic, breaking through her sobs, "Why did you have to do that? He was just a little kid—he was innocent!" she struggled to say as her lip trembled. 

Oscar's jaw tightened, his voice low and venomous, "Shut up!" He yanked her harder, her heels scraping against the gravel as he pulled her toward a black sedan parked under the dim glow of a streetlamp. Rosetta stumbled, nearly falling, but Oscar was relentless as he kept dragging her forward.

Rosetta cried, clutching at his hand as if pleading for mercy, "You didn't have to...God, Oscar, you didn't have to—"

Oscar whipped around, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her, "I said, shut up!"

Rosetta flinched, her sobs quieting to desperate hiccups. Oscar pushed her toward the car, yanking the door open and shoving her inside with enough force that she hit her shoulder against the middle console, which was sure to leave a bruise. 

"Stay put," he growled, slamming the door shut  He then rounded the car, his boots crunching against the gravel. As he reached the driver's side, his gaze flickered toward two motionless forms lying a few feet away. A worn, blood stained blanket covered them, concealing their faces, but the shape of one small body beneath it was unmistakable—a child, no older than six. Beside it, the outline of an adult woman lying eerily still beside him. 

Oscar's jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring. He didn't look too long, but the image burned in his mind.

Rosetta, still inside the car, pressed her hands to her mouth, trying to muffle her cries. Her chest heaved, and she dared to glance out the window toward the covered bodies. Her sobs intensifying. 

Rosetta muttered something to herself in Spanish, the words were almost inaudibly as she hugged her body tightly, slightly rocking herself in desperate need of any form of comfort. 

Oscar yanked the driver's side door open and slid inside, slamming the door shut with enough force to rattle the car, "I don't want to hear it. Not one more word," he sneered, his murderous eyes burning into her skull. 

Rosetta turned her head away, staring blankly out the window as tears silently slid down her face, while Oscar started the car, gripping the wheel tightly, his knuckles white as they speed off; the blanket-covered bodies fading into the distance. 

***

Gemma sat on the couch, legs crossed, her expression unreadable as Kimchee paced in front of her. His tie slightly loosened, and his brow furrowed with a mix of frustration and determination.

Chuckie and Half-Sack lingering nearby, tried their best to look alert and professional, while keeping a wary eye on Gemma.

Kimchee stopped pacing, jabbing a finger in Gemma's direction, "Do you have any idea how bad you screwed yourself by running off to Belfast? I spent weeks trying to clean this up, and now we're lucky if the judge doesn't throw the book at you!"

Gemma leaned back, unfazed, "Yeah, well, I had my reasons."

Kimchee sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Your reasons don't mean jack to the DA. I'm walking into that courtroom with a stack of excuses and hoping to God one of them sticks. You've got a court date in two days, Gemma. Two days. And I swear, if you pull another stunt—"

Gemma cuts him off, mockingly raising her hands, "I won't. I hear you loud and clear. Would you like me to salute, too?"

Kimchee narrowed his eyes, clearly exasperated, but knowing better than to engage in her sarcasm. He exhaled slowly, reigning in his temper, "Look, I'm not doing this for fun. You show up, you stay quiet, and you let me handle it. If you so much as breathe wrong, I can't promise I'll be able to save you from this mess."

Gemma smirked, but didn't utter another word. Kimchee grabbed his briefcase from the coffee table, snapping it shut with more force than necessary. Standing as he moved to the door. 

"Hey, Kimchee," Gemma called out, her tone softer now. 

He stopped and glanced back, his expression still annoyed but curious, "Thanks. Most people would've given up on me by now."

Kimchee paused, shrugging a small smile, "I'm not like most people."

Half-Sack, leaned casually against the doorframe, and couldn't help the grin that formed on his face, chuckling under his breath, "That's for damn sure."

Kip Epps had always been a little different, maybe it was his tendency to follow his gut instead of the crowd. After his hookup with Cherry in Belfast, they'd stayed up talking in the quiet hours of the night, coming to terms with a difficult truth. Long distance wasn't going to work for either of them. They cared about each other deeply, but the reality of their lives were pulling them in opposite directions. They parted with strong feelings still lingering, but with the understanding that letting go was the right thing to do.

In the aftermath, Half-Sack found himself reflecting on more than just his relationship with Cherry. For years, he'd kept a part of himself hidden, something he never dared to share with the club. The guys' narrow views on sexuality left little room for nuance, and Half-Sack had long known they would never be able to fully accept it if they found out he was into both men and women. It wasn't something he was ashamed of, but it was easier to keep that side of himself locked away, far from the clubhouse.

That was until he met Kimchee.

The first time Half-Sack saw him, he was struck by how immediate and intense his attraction was. Kimchee wasn't the kind of guy he usually found himself drawn to—slick, put-together, and exuding a confidence so effortless it felt like a perfectly tailored suit. But there was something magnetic about him, something that made Half-Sack stop and take notice.

It wasn't just the way Kimchee carried himself, though that certainly didn't hurt. It was his sharp wit and wicked sense of humour, the way he could throw out a sarcastic comment that had everyone in the room laughing. And then there were his lawyer skills—badass and precise. Half-Sack had done a little digging, browsing through some of Kimchee's earlier cases out of curiosity. What he found left him impressed, to say the least. The guy wasn't just talk; he was the real deal, someone who could cut through the bullshit and win.

Half-Sack hated to admit it, but he found himself looking forward to the lawyer's visits, always trying to think of something clever to say or do to catch his attention. It was a strange, thrilling feeling—equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. For the first time in a long time, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. But one thing was clear: Kimchee had gotten under his skin in a way no one else ever had before. 

Kimchee rolled his eyes but didn't respond as he opened the door and stepped outside. Gemma and Half-Sack watched him leave, Gemma's smirk lingering, though there was a flicker of genuine gratitude in her eyes.

Gemma turned to the newest patched member, her tone playful and teasing, "Enjoying the view, sweetheart."

Half-Sack stiffened at her words, his cheeks heating up in embarrassment as he cleared his throat, composing himself, "Just saying, you're lucky he's on your side. I reviewed some of his old cases, that guy's like a lawyer ninja or something."

Gemma simply hummed, grabbing a cigarette from the coffee table, "Yeah, well, let's hope his ninja tricks work. Now, go grab me some coffee. I'm not going anywhere, and I'll be damned if I don't get my caffeine."

Half-Sack nodded with a grin and headed toward the kitchen, leaving Gemma to light her cigarette and sink back into the couch, her mind already plotting her next move.  

***

The roar of motorcycles echoed through the air as Marcus Alvarez dismounted his bike, his expression calm but unreadable. The Mayans president had a reputation that preceded him—calculated, ruthless when necessary, but never without reason. As soon as he set foot on SAMCRO's lot, Jax and Alu were on him like a shadow.

"Marcus," Alu greeted, her voice tinged with desperation but holding onto a veneer of composure.

Alvarez nodded, his gaze softening briefly as he acknowledged her, "Hey, cariño. You got your boy back?"

Alu shook her head, the weight of her answer evident in her tone, "No...That's why you're here."

Alvarez sighed, his lips pressing into a thin line, "Figured that was the case. Listen, the cops want Duncan bad. Him being out there puts me, my family, and my club in the crossfire. We've got ties that run deep with his operations in the Big Apple. This heat could burn us all." 

"I know—" Alu started, already preparing herself to plead with him, but Alvarez held up a hand, cutting her off.

"But making him go away might benefit us both."

Jax, standing beside Alu, furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "How so?"

Alvarez's jaw tightened as he glanced at the both of them, "He's got my daughter too. Rosetta, barely sixteen—chica estúpida—thinks she's in love. But I know the bastard is just using her." 

Alu inhaled sharply, nodding as the puzzle pieces clicked into place, "It's what he does," she said. Her voice took on a bitter edge as she explained to the group, "Oscar never gets his hands dirty. He uses minors, troubled girls with no priors—promisimg them family—to do his jobs for him. They get caught, but since it's their first offense, most only do a few months in juvie before they're back on the pole or the streets, working for him again. His number one rule was always: keep him clean." 

The weight of her words settled over the group, the gravity of Oscar's operation becoming clear. Before anyone could respond, the sound of a horn cut through the moment. Bobby and Juice pulled up in the SAMCRO van, the tires crunching against the gravel as they screeched to a halt.

Bobby jumped out first, dragging a struggling woman in sexy lingerie, something one of a pole dancer would usually wear, behind him. Juice was close on his heels, looking exasperated.

"Out! Out! Don't kick—dammit! I can't listen to you anymore!" Chibs barked as the woman shouted angrily in rapid Spanish, her words practically bouncing off him.

Jax stepped forward, his face a mixture of irritation and curiosity, "Anything?" 

Chibs threw his hands up, "Jesus, no! Her name's Ramona, I think. Picked her up leaving Oscar's strip joint in NY, can't understand a bloody word she's saying though." 

Jax turned to Juice, raising an eyebrow, "Nobody speaks Spanish? Not even you? Your mother's from Mexico!" 

Juice shrugged, clearly uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

Alu rolled her eyes, stepping forward with a scoff, "Oh, please. He speaks better Yiddish."

She approached the woman, switching fluidly into Spanish as she addressed her. Ramona, who clearly recognised the woman responded in kind, their words coming faster and sharper by the second. Within moments, their conversation escalated into a full-blown shouting match.

Then, without warning, Alu pulled out her gun, pressing it against Ramona's forehead.

Gasps rippled through the group as Ramona froze, her breath hitching. Alu's voice didn't waver as she barked something in Spanish, her words sharp as a blade.

"What are we doing here, babe?" Jax's voice was calm, steady, as he stepped closer, though the rest of the group instinctively took a step back, unnerved by Alu's unpredictability.

Ramona said something in a trembling voice, her eyes darting nervously to Alu's unyielding glare. Alu snapped back in Spanish, her voice lowering just a fraction, before she finally lowered the gun. Ramona exhaled shakily in relief, clutching her chest as if her heart might burst.

Without a word, Alu spun on her heel and marched toward her car, her movements quick and purposeful.

"Alu!" Jax called out, his tone laced with frustration, but she didn't stop.

She jumped into her car, the engine roaring to life. Gravel sprayed as she sped off, leaving everyone staring after her.

"Shit," Jax muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Let's go. Come on! Stay with her." He mounted his bike, and within moments, the rumble of engines filled the air again as the entirety of SAMCRO and the Mayans followed after Alu.  

***

The convoy of roaring bikes and cars screeched to a halt outside the abandoned house. Gravel crunched underfoot as everyone jumped out, weapons drawn, tension thick in the air. Alu didn't wait for instructions. She bolted for the front door, her only thought was Moss.

"Alu! Wait!" Jax called, rushing after her.

She ignored him, her heart pounding as she reached the porch. Jax grabbed her arm, pulling her back before she could throw open the door.

"Let go of me, Jackson!" she yelled, her voice cracking with desperation. "My son's in there! He needs me!"

Jax held firm, his face set in determination, "We don't know what we're walking into here! You go barging in like this, and we could lose any chance we've got of getting Moss back alive."

Alu's chest heaved, tears streaming down her face as she glared at him. For a moment, it seemed like she might fight him, but then her shoulders slumped, and she nodded reluctantly.

Jax features softened slightly, taking her hand and cupping her face as he whispered, "Come on. We do this together."

With guns drawn, they approached the house cautiously, the rest of SAMCRO and the Mayans covering their flanks. The silence was deafening as Jax kicked the door open, the creak of the hinges echoing through the empty halls.

Room by room, they cleared the house. But It was empty. No Moss.

"Goddammit!" Alu cursed, slamming her fist against a wall. "Where is he?!" 

From the backyard, Alvarez's voice cut through the air, "Ana Lucía! You need to see this!"

Her stomach dropped. But without hesitation, she sprinted toward the back gate, Jax close behind her. As they rounded the corner, they saw it—a dirt road leading to two bodies covered by a single blanket.

Alu froze, her breath catching in her throat. She stared at the small, child-sized figure beneath the blanket, "No..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

Jax moved in front of her, blocking her path, "Alu, don't. You don't want to see that."

But Alu didn't listen. She pushed past him, her desperation giving her strength. He caught her by the waist, trying to stop her, "Alu, wait—!" 

She wriggled free, dropping to her knees in front of the bodies. Hands trembling, as she reached for the edge of the blanket.

"Don't do this to yourself," Jax pleaded, but she ignored him.

She pulled the blanket back from the boy's face. Relief hit her like a tidal wave—it wasn't Moss.

A choked sob escaped her lips as she sat back on her heels, pressing a hand to her mouth. She staggered to her feet, running a hand through her hair as her breaths came in short gasps, "This...this was him," she said, her voice shaking. She pointed to the boy, "This is his way of taunting me. Playing with my emotions. Reminding me exactly what his capable of." 

Suddenly, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fumbled for it, her hands shaking as she answered, "Oscar," she hissed, her voice raw with emotion.

A dark chuckle greeted her, "Ah, there she is. My pretty little liar." 

Alu's grip on the phone tightened, "Where's my son?"

"Our son?" Oscar's tone was mocking. "He's safe...for now. I'm taking a play out of your book, darling. You lied about killing Alvarez, played your little games again—and you want me to forgive you? Fine. But forgiveness has a price. And if you want your son back, you'll pay it." 

"I'll do anything," Alu said, her voice breaking. "Please, just don't hurt him." 

Oscar's voice turned cold, "Anything, huh? Here's the deal: you want Moss back? Tell Juice the truth about Tabitha. Every filthy little detail. Then, and only then, do you get Moss. Your move, baby." 

Then, the line went dead.

Alu stared at the phone in her hand, tears streaming down her face. She sank to the ground, her body trembling. Jax knelt beside her, his hand on her shoulder, but she couldn't meet hiss gaze. 

"Alu, what did he say?" Jax asked quietly.

She shook her head, her voice barely a whisper, "I can't, Jax. I can't do it...I can't lose him too." He sucked in a shaky breath as tears streamed down her face. 

Jax's jaw tightened, his concern for Alu and the mounting chaos clear in his eyes, "We'll get him back," he said firmly. "Whatever it takes. You hear me, baby? I'm right here," he whispered, cupping her face with both hands as he leaned his forehead on hers as she continued to silently cry. 

But even as he said it, he knew the cost of Oscar's game would be far higher than any of them could ever predict.  

***

The car's engine growled as Oscar steered it off the main road and into a secluded, tree-lined clearing. The dirt path kicked up clouds of dust, the sharp smell of dry earth filling the air. Beside him, Rosetta sat frozen, her face stained with dry tears, her gaze unfocused.

Oscar killed the engine, stepping out of the car and slamming the door shut. Rosetta flinched, but didn't move.

Oscar walked around to the trunk, yanking it open with practiced ease. Inside, a small figure huddled, trembling. Moss' tear-streaked face looked up at him, his wide, terrified eyes meeting the cold, unflinching gaze of his father. 

"You gonna behave now, boy?" Oscar asked, his tone sharp and commanding.

Moss nodded rapidly, his messy curls bobbing with the movement. His throat tightened as he swallowed hard, too scared to speak.

Oscar smirked and reached in, grabbing the boy by his shirt and hauling him out. Moss stumbled but caught himself, his small hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if to steady his racing heart.

"Good," Oscar muttered, pulling out a knife. Moss stiffened, his breath hitching, but Oscar merely sliced through the ropes binding his wrists and ankles.

The boy collapsed to his knees, his legs too weak to hold him after hours of confinement.

"Get up," Oscar snapped, shoving him toward the back seat. Moss obeyed, scrambling into the car. Oscar tossed a water bottle at him, and Moss fumbled to catch it, before twisting the cap off.

The boy drank greedily, gulping down half the bottle in seconds. His parched throat burned with relief, but his hands shook so badly he nearly dropped it.

Oscar climbed into the back seat with him, his presence looming like a dark shadow. He leaned forward, staring at Moss with an intensity that made the boy shrink back, "Now, listen to me, kid," he said, his voice low and deadly. "You ever pull a stunt like that again, and you'll get a bullet between the eyes. You hear me?"

Moss nodded frantically, his lip quivering as fresh tears welled up in his eyes, "I-I promise. I'll be good boy. I swear." His voice cracked as he added, "Papa."

Oscar froze for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. Then, a slow, sinister smile spread across his face, "That's more like it," he said, ruffling Moss' hair roughly, as though rewarding a loyal dog. "Good lad." 

Moss flinched, but forced himself to stay still, hoping to avoid further punishment.

Oscar climbed back into the driver's seat, leaving Moss in the back. He glanced at Rosetta, her pale face and tear-streaked face a stark reminder of her futile protests earlier.

She avoided his gaze, her hands trembled in her lap, while she pressed her body against the door as if trying to distance herself from his looming presence.

And without warning, Oscar reached out, grabbing her chin with a grip that was just shy of painful, and pulled her into a rough, possessive kiss. His lips pressed hard against hers, stealing her breath and leaving no room for resistance, "I love you, my little rosie," he murmured against her lips, his tone soft but laced with an unsettling intensity.

Rosetta hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper when she finally managed to respond, "I love you too, baby." 

Oscar smirked, the kind of grin that sent a shiver down her spine, one she couldn't entirely attribute to fear. Satisfied, he turned away. His hand fell casually onto her thigh, the weight of it heavy and possessive.

"Sit tight, yeah?" Oscar said, his tone casual now, as if they were on a family road trip. He started the car, the engine roaring to life as they left the clearing and drove back onto the dusty road.

Rosetta flinched, her entire body tensing under his touch, but she didn't pull away. Oscar didn't react to her discomfort, his focus already on the road ahead. He sped off without hesitation, the tires kicking up dirt as the car surged forward. 

In the silence, the tension was suffocating. Moss clutched the half-empty water bottle like a lifeline, staring out the window, his reflection in the glass showing nothing but fear.

Oscar glanced at him briefly, his smirk lingering as he said, "We're gonna get along just fine, aren't we, son?" 

Moss didn't answer, too afraid his voice would betray him. Instead, he nodded, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Oscar chuckled softly, his satisfaction palpable as the car disappeared into the night.

***

Words: 4482