A.N: This is the first installemnt of what I hope to be an ongoing novel that follows the potential events of Season 6 of Sons of Anarchy. I don't own Sons of Anarchy or anything like that first off, as many like to state. No less, I hope you enjoy the path that this story takes and stay tuned for further additions to the novel. Reviews are much appreciated and do help with getting the muse to continue writing additional material for the story itself! Thanks very much and I hope you enjoy!

'Something happens when the things you value the most are taken away from you. Your wife, your club, your family. Everything that you once knew being torn away at the same time just seems to break you – unhinge you. Whether it some test from a higher power or just the fact that I'm neck-deep in bad luck, I can't really say. All I know is, those things that I've known and loved are becoming less and less present in my life.
Tara's behind bars.
My V.P's stepped down.
My kids are without their mother.
Where do I have to go from here. Who can I trust?
What can I get attached to when there's so much risk that comes along with it?
There's only one right answer, boys; detach yourself from everything and everyone. It's the only way that you're ever going to get anything in this world done properly.'

Jax lifted his eyes from the page he'd been scribing his thoughts down onto. From the rooftop of his favourite place on the Teller-Morrow lot, he could see the glistening lights of charming; sparkling like stars in the night sky. The sound of the rare car passing by drew his eyes and ears, but never his mind from his deep thoughts. He could still hear Juice and some of the prospects bickering about how Bobby had stepped down from his post as V.P without any notice. Some were defending him, others the opposite – denouncing his actions.
But Jax paid little attention to it. He didn't really care anymore. Sure there was an underlying feeling of betrayal which Jackson Teller was trying to over shroud with his false sense of understanding, but there it was all the same. So long as Bobby had decided to step down and took the action of making it a legitimate choice – that was enough for him to know that he was in dire need of a new right-hand. If Opie had been around, he knew things would've panned out in a completely different way. Hell, half the shit that happened with the One-Niners and Pope wouldn't have. And there wasn't a day that went by that Jax didn't regret not putting himself in that position which Opie had taken so willingly.
Still, time had passed and Opie had died. Whether Jax wanted to come to terms with that reality or not. Bobby had stepped away, and the V.P post was vacant.

Reaching into his kutte pocket, the President removed the V.P badge and smoothed it between his fingers, his eyes still looking out across the horizon of lights. The sound of roaring motorcycles pulling into the lot had him blinking out of thought though, his sights drawn to Chibs, Happy and Tig pulling up – ready to go to Church – just like he'd asked. Pocketing the badge once more and standing to his feet, the President made down to the innards of Teller-Morrow. He greeted each of his brothers with a warm embrace. Even Bobby despite what had happened.
Each member of the MC made for their seats around the table, Bobby a little further away than usual, Chibs in his usual place at Jax's side. The others took their respective seats in the same fashion, and Jax took a glance around the room.
He breathed and said nothing for a moment, his thoughts lingering on Tara and the night that Sherriff Roosevelt came and took her away, cuffed and read her rights.
An image which still played at his mind every night he went to sleep in a bed alone.
Three days and it felt like three years.

'Sorry to hear about Tara, Jax.' Tig piped up, brushing a hand over his beard, his sorrowful eyes resting on the president at the head of the table.
'Aye,' Chibs agreed. 'She'll get off brother. We'll get 'er through this.'
Jax paid them both with respective nods and thanked them with his eyes, but still, spoke nothing.
'What'd you call us all in for, Jax?' Bobby pushed his hair back, knowing well enough that it had to have something to do with needing to reinstate the hierarchy and restore it to properness.

'You know.' Jax finally raised, his words sharp like a knife. 'And so do the rest of you.'
he shuffled in his seat, resting his elbows down on the table in front of him. 'As you all know Bobby resigned from his post as V.P. We need to vote in a new hierarchy, and we need to do it fast. If we can't come to a collective agreement I'll appoint an acting V.P and an acting Sergeant-At-Arms. If we can all agree, all the better.' He ran a hand over his chin, his eyes beckoning over to Chibs.
'I vote Chibs for V.P, to replace Bobby.'
Chibs offered Jax a glance, then looked back at his fellow brothers. 'I'm up for whatever this kiddo wants. I'm not 'bout ta' say no. It'd be an honour to be ya' V.P, Jackie-Boy!' Chibs remarked.
The room all raised their hands in favour, and just like that, Chibs had earned himself his new patch. Standing from his seat, he'd been met by the warmest of embraces by his President and the two of them shared a moment, the other brothers laughing and smiling all the same. The Scotsman had upped out of his seat and plodded himself down on Jax's opposite side, in the respective V.P position.
'And Sergeant-At-Arms?' Juice spoke in barely an audible tone.
'I vote Tig.' Jax said, his words weighing on him a little. He knew all too well that Tig was always Clay's boy. Clay's right-hand and the thought of reinstating him into that post he'd once sat in some comfortably felt a little unhinging. But he could still hold the whole prison thing over Tig's head to keep him under control. To restrain him and to unleash him at will; something Jax liked the thought of all the same. So long as he had his leverage for saving Tig from Pope and from prison – it was all smooth sailing.
There was an eerie and thick tension in the room with those words though. Some leaned back in their seats, a little taken aback by Jax's choice. Others tended to look down at the table, uncertainty clear by the hands they ran through their hair or over their heads.

In respectable fashion, as Jax's new V.P, Chibs cleared his throat out and demanded the attention of the room.
'I secon' Jackie-Boy's motion, lads.' Even Tig was looking a little awe struck now, and his hands were fumbling about with the cigarette he'd begun rolling in the tense silence that had finally been raised.
'I'm with you guys then.' Juice swallowed deeply.
'Likewise.' Happy growled in his rough tone.
'Yup.' Bobby now.
'Sure thing...' Tig tried to sound less surprised than he was, but his face told another story. His face told the story Jax had hoped for. The fact that he was by no means expecting to me in any position of authority any time soon.
And that meant one thing, Tig was going to be one-hundred-and-ten-percent committed to keeping his post as Sergeant-At-Arms – because if he didn't – it was going to be a long, long way away from being his post ever again.
'That's a majority.' Jax tapped his gavel on the table. 'Chibs is V.P. Tig's Sergeant-At-Arms. We'll swear all this shit in later. Right now, we've got things to talk over.' The president adjusted himself in his seat, leaning back into it.
'Anyone heard anything on Clay?' he queried, leaving it open to the table.
'Juice said they'd transferred him to Stockton today. 'Niner's are a'ready plannin' some sort'a beatin' on 'im.' Chibs answered, stroking his goatee, his eyes looking Juice's way.
'Yeah. I mean, at least that's what I heard.' Juice shrugged.
'Good. Clay'll be out of our hands once and for all in no time.' Jax nodded, his eyes keeping well away from Bobby – a man he could feel glaring right down at him. There was no secrets that Bobby had hated the idea of Clay 'going away'. He'd thrown his V.P patch in for that exact reason.
'What're we doing about Tara?' Tig leaned forward. 'I think that's our first priority, don't you think, Jax?'

Jax nodded his head slowly at that.
'I dono' what we're gonna' do about Tara.' He admitted.
'I can get onto organizing some protection for her?' Happy spoke up. 'Got some friends who've got wives locked up where she's going. See what they can do.'
'That'd be sweet, Happy. Get on it.' Jax thanked.

And just like that, Happy was on his feet and headed for the nearest phone. As he departed, in came Chucky, his prosthetic limbs holding a phone in them, and his always sad eyes, peering at Jax.

'What is it, Chucky?'

'Nero.'
Jax bit down on his lower lip already knowing it had to be something bad. It was about the only time that Nero bothered the club.
'Alright, hand it over.' Taking the phone, Jax leaned into it, pressing it against his ear. 'What's up bro?'

By the time Jax and Chibs had pulled up at the front of Diosa, business was bustling as usual. Older men came and went, exchanging smiles as they passed one another by – all suited up to the neck in their job attire. Amidst it all, the suits and ties, the two leather jacketed bikers made their way easily through to Nero who was slouched over his desk, phone pressed against his ear. He was draped in his usual cardigan over top, his black tank top underneath. He'd clearly noted the bikers arrival, but gave them a polite 'wait-a-sec' hand gesture. Finally, he rounded his call up, gave a Spanish farewell and hug up the phone.
Standing to full height, he pulled his cardigan closer to his body and looked between Jax and Chibs.
'Thanks for coming.' He said.
You know it bro. Explain this shit to me, yeah?' Jax spoke back.
Signalling the two to a more quiet place, Nero led the way into his office, allowing the two men in and shutting the door behind them with a gentle push. He tracked across the well furnished room, closed the blinds to the window looking out into Diosa's main entertainment room and took to his seat behind his desk.
Jax moved to a seat opposite Nero, while Chibs took to leaning against a wall, examining one of Nero's sculpted stone works.
'We gotta' big problem.' The Latino scratched his neck uneasily. 'Couple o' my guys've been getting reports that our customers, our business – they're getting messed around. Some rival gangbangers from outta' town decided to move closer to Charming, open up an escort service kind'a like what we got goin' on here.' He breathed for a moment, looking at Jax, trying to decode the man. 'Our regulars ain't too keen on coming back to Diosa while they're getting messed around, hermano.' Dipping his head and looking up at Chibs who'd stopped looking at the sculpture, Nero fell silent.
Jax sat quietly for a moment, stroking his chin.

'You've got your boys – why not send them to sort it out?' he shrugged.
Nero shook his head, tapping the desk and pointing Jax's way as if he was already aware of Jax's reply even before he'd said it. 'Gotta' keep myself clean of all that shit, holmes.' He wiped his hands down his chest as if to show what he was saying. 'I can't go toe-to-toe with these guys. Can't find a war on my doorstep. Diosa'll only lose out if we do it that way, man.'
The President nodded his head in understanding. The last thing Diosa needed was these hard-nut gangbangers coming down for some sort of retaliation, and for that exact reason, he knew now why Nero had contacted the Sons. Keeping the "drama away from business" as Latino always put it.
Smart guy. Something Jax always knew. The exact reason why he'd gone into business with him in the first place.

'We'll take care of it. Rough 'em up and set shit straight, bro.' Jax nodded matter-of-factually.
'Much appreciated, hermano.' Nero nodded, offering his hand over which Jax shook always instantaneously. 'But if you'll excuse me, gotta' keep an eye on things out there.' He raised from his seat, gave the two men a thankful nod and proceeded out of his office, shutting the door behind him to give the two friends some privacy.

'Can't do this with our kutte's on, Jackie-Boy. Blow back on th' club. We got 'rselves 'nough shite to deal with, brother.' The VP spoke.
'Your right.' He sat for a moment, thinking. 'I think I've got something we can work with here.' He pointed to Chibs, 'Get Happy and Juice and have 'em on standby. Tell 'em to meet us just outside of Charming. I've got a job for them.'
'Ye' got it.' Chibs answered, pulling his cell out and padding in the numbers.

Standing with his kutte off and his navy-blue hood pulled over his head, Jax watched as Chibs puffed away at his cigarette, leaning on his bike draped in his token brown leather jacket; his long hair parted either side.
'How far off are they?' Jax asked through the puff of his own cigarette, drawing it from his mouth and flicking the excess ash off its tip.
Chibs savoured his most recent drawl of smoke and breathed out, 'Not too far, brother. A few minutes if we're lucky.'
They'd been standing across the road from the Grim Bastard's club house, keeping a low profile behind the cover of some nearby trees. The sun was beaming down on them like an unforgiving fire – singeing a burning at their skin without any hopes of faltering behind the clouds that were.
It'd been Jax's idea to target their once close brothers, and sister-charter. After the events that had occurred with Opie, and the death of their President's cousin at the hand of Chibs, relations had never truly been the same. Word had reached the Son's that the Grim's were even considered reforming with some of their own extensive charters to bring some sort of rebellion-like justice down to make things right. And that didn't sit too well with Jackson Teller. Hence why they were going to be the reason these gangbangers that were targeting Nero weren't so much as interested in the Sons and Diosa anymore, but instead, the Grim Bastards.

It'd been no secret that they had seen the successes of prostitution for the Sons and endeavoured to achieve such a success themselves – and that additionally made them perfect for what the SAMCRO president had been plotting.

Taken from his thoughts by the rumbling of Harleys, Jax took note of Juice and Happy pulling up and parking their bikes. Chibs stamped out his cigarette and pulled a hand through his hair, giving them a warm greeting.
But Jax didn't move. He remained perched on his bike, looking at them through the dark sunglasses that were protecting his eyes from the beams from above.
'What's going on, Jax?' Juice asked as the group narrowed back to meet with their president.
Jax dampened his lips took a glance back at the Bastards clubhouse and then back to the men that stood before him.
How he trusted them all – even when Juice had practically ratted out the club. He'd proved himself a loyal sort, doing something for a decent cause.
'Diosa's been getting some unwanted attention from some rival gangbangers of Nero's,' he began. 'We need to get that shit away from Diosa and pin the target for these guys on someone else.'
'The Bastards.' Happy finished with a sly smirk.
'The Bastards.' Jax confirmed with a cool smile. 'You're the closest two we've got to looking like a patch of the Bastards. Bangers see white guys wearing their cuts, they won't buy shit.' Jax signalled back towards the clubhouse. 'I need you guys to steal two kuttes. Dispose of the members, whatever, I really don't give a shit how you get 'em. Once you've got yourself one of their kuttes, get on your bikes, ride down to this address.' Jax handed off a piece of paper that Nero had given him with the details of the gangbangers whorehouse. 'You shoot that place up and make sure the message is delivered. You make sure the bangers see the Bastards kuttes and then you get the hell out of there.'
Happy and Juice nodded their heads.
'No problem.' Happy spoke on the behalf of both he and Juice.
'We'll see you back at the clubhouse.' Jax nodded, igniting the engine of his Harley and allowing it to roar loudly.
Chibs mounted up and kicked his own bike into gear. 'Stay safe, boy-o.' Chibs pointed at Juice. 'Don' fuck this up.' He could see Juice's lips turning downward into an almost frown. Juice hated being the underdog of the club – something that was distinct from any underestimation that came from his fellow brothers.

Off they went, bikes roaring down the street; Chibs riding right by Jax's side.

Juice and Happy offered one another a look and nodded to each other, establishing the faith they both had in one another abilities.
'So how're we going to do this?' Juice questioned, rubbing the back of his head anxiously.
'We wait for two or three of them to leave. Follow them. Kill them. Take their kuttes.' Happy shrugged effortlessly. This was no foreign ground to him. He'd always been one to take care of the dirty work of the club.
Still, for Juice, it was something far more personal. He'd really only killed two or so people, and those events haunted him on a constant basis. And this whole thing with framing Clay? Shit, that was following him around everywhere he went. Regardless of whether he had to do it or not, he felt like the biggest piece of shit to walk the face of the planet. Clay was like a father to him over the past few months – it was hard to ignore that.
But time was precious and the sound of two bikes revving to life had Juice snapping out of his deep thoughts. He turned to see two Bastards taking off from the safe house and noted that Happy had already mounted up and began the pursuit.
Like it or not, it was time to get his hands dirty.