Jax sat on his front porch with his head in his hands, rocking back and forth. He'd never hyperventilated in his life, but he was pretty sure that's what was happening. There was a weight on his chest, crushing his lungs, making it nearly impossible for him to breathe. He was dizzy, his legs weak, his hands tingling. Hell, maybe he was having a heart attack. Who could blame him? He'd been through a lot of shit in his life, but never anything like this. His entire family was gone- his pregnant wife, his two little boys, his baby sister. Stolen from him by someone he'd trusted, an enemy hiding in plain sight. Jax was completely blindsided.

The guys tried to reassure him. "Maybe he doesn't know that we know," they said. "Maybe he really did just take them to a cabin for the weekend, and they'll be back in a couple days." Jax tried to hold out hope, but he knew that wasn't the case. He could feel it in his bones. He'd called Tara and Trinity probably a hundred times. Both of their phones went straight to voicemail, every single time. "Maybe there's no cell service at the cabin," Happy had suggested. Jax knew Tara better than that. If there was no cell phone service and no land line at the cabin, if there even was a cabin, Tara would insist on going somewhere to call Jax, just to check in and let him know they'd made it safely to their destination. Even if she was reluctant to call him due to the fact that he'd been ignoring her for days, she'd call Bobby or Chibs- somebody.

When the crew arrived at Jax and Tara's house and found it empty, no sign of Juice anywhere, even the most optimistic of club members became concerned. "Little prick probably just freaked out because he fucked up so bad by letting this happen and took off," Tig had said. It wouldn't be the first time Juice acted irrationally out of fear, but Jax didn't see it. Not this time. He knew what people were saying about Juice and Trinity. He wasn't blind to the fact that Juice was in love with his little sister. No way would he just take off with her in trouble. And he would never play vigilante and try to rescue her by himself, not with Jax's family also in danger. There was only one way he would have left Jax's house, and that was by force. Which meant this Simon, or Anthony, or whatever the fuck his name was, wasn't working alone.

"How you doin', kid?" Bobby asked, taking a seat next to Jax on the porch. With JT and Clay dead, and Gemma dead to him, Jax supposed Bobby was the closest thing to a parent he had left. Which was sort of ironic, considering what a shitty father Bobby was to his own kids.

"Where's my family, Bobby?" Jax asked, choking back tears. Bobby wrapped an arm around Jax and pulled him close. Normally, Jax would have made some clever joke about Bobby being gay, but he was in no mood for jokes. He was too exhausted to do anything besides lie his head on Bobby's shoulder and cry.

"I don't know, son," Bobby admitted. "But we'll find 'em. I promise you that." He squeezed Jax's shoulder. "Tara's a smart girl and she's tough as nails. She'll do whatever it takes to keep your family safe." Jax nodded, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

"I was such an idiot to ever think I could get away from the life. Turning in my kutte and moving out of state didn't do shit except give me and Tara a false sense of security. I can't escape my past. It's my fault this happened."

"Hey," Bobby said, grabbing Jax by the back of his neck. "You listen to me. This is not your fault. Nobody saw this one coming. I was going over and over it in my head the entire drive out here, and there was just no warning whatsoever. You didn't miss anything. And you are definitely not to blame. Not for this one." Jax nodded, thankful to have someone to keep him from wallowing in his guilt. There would be a time for that, but not yet. Not with so much that needed to be done, so much to still figure out. The front door flew open and Tig came bursting out of the house, almost tripping over Bobby and Jax as he ran down the steps.

"The hell you going?" Bobby called after him. Tig turned around, throwing his hands hopelessly into the air.
"I don't know, man!" he yelled. "I don't know. But I can't just sit here, doing nothing. I'm going to find that asshole." Bobby jumped up from the porch and hurried after Tig, grabbing him by the collar of his kutte.

"And then what, huh?" he asked. "What are you going to do when you roll up on Anthony and his crew alone? We don't know how many of them there are. You got no idea what you'd be walking into."

"I don't care," Tig said, pulling free from Bobby's grasp.

"And how do you think you're gonna find them? Just go driving through the entire state of Oregon until you happen upon Tara's car? We got no clue where he even took 'em."

"So what do you want me to do, Bobby, huh? Just sit around with my thumb up my ass?" Tig was anxious, too amped up. He needed a task, something to keep him busy and keep his mind from wandering.

"Opie and Juice flipped the house upside down looking for clues," Bobby told him. "If Tara comes home to it looking like this, she's gonna be pissed. Why don't you go put the guys to work getting things put back together?"

"You want me to clean?" Tig asked, incredulous. Bobby shrugged.

"It's what my old lady used to do when she was worked up about shit. Said it was a stress reliever."

"Jesus Christ," Tig groaned, rolling his eyes. "Alright." Bobby slapped him on the back and let out a chuckle before returning to Jax.

"What was that about?" Jax asked as Tig went back inside and began barking orders to the rest of the guys.

"Just Tig," Bobby explained. "You know."

"Yeah," Jax nodded. "I do. So what now?" Bobby let out a low sigh, worried Jax would take his suggestion about as well as Tig did.

"We wait," he said.

"Yeah," Jax agreed. "I suppose that's all we can do."

Trinity could barely see through her tears and the hair hanging in front of her face as Simon made his way across the basement floor to where she and Tara were tied up. This is all my fault, she thought to herself as she watched the man she thought she loved take a seat in the empty chair between her and Tara.

What was happening? Why was he doing this? Trinity didn't understand. She was afraid and she was hurt and she was pissed as hell. But she had to keep her emotions in check. Her failure to do so earlier is what had resulted in her getting a black eye and half a roll of duct tape wrapped around her face to keep her quiet. Tara had a plan. Trinity could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes. She didn't know what that plan was, exactly, but she had to trust it. The only instruction Tara had given her was to follow her lead, and Trinity planned to do exactly that. Tara was staring at the dirty ground in silence, not even acknowledging Simon's presence, so Trinity did the same.

"So girls," Simon began. The sound of his voice made Trinity's skin crawl. Funny, since just a few hours earlier, it had made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside. "How's it going?" Trinity peered up at Tara, but Tara didn't respond. Trinity returned her eyes to the ground. "What?!" Simon asked, feigning surprise. "Nobody wants to talk? Well, Trinity, I guess you can't really say much with that tape over your mouth, can ya?" He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "I'm sorry about that, hon, I really am. But we can't go disturbing the peace in this nice, quiet community, can we?" Trinity fought the urge to look at him. Tara was quiet, so she stayed quiet.

During the awkward, terrifying silence that followed, Trinity went over the day's events in her head, trying to figure out how she wound up tied to a chair in her boyfriend's basement. Simon hadn't acted strange at all that morning. He showed up at the house exactly when he said he would to help load everyone's bags for the trip. He and Tara had a bit of a discussion about whether to take one car or two, but Trinity didn't think much of it. Tara and the boys followed in Tara's car, and Trinity and Simon enjoyed a nice, quiet drive up to the cottage. They held hands. He leaned over and kissed her every time they stopped.

She questioned the route he took as they traveled back roads far into the country, wondering if there might have been an easier way to get there. He was going a little fast and Tara seemed to be having a hard time keeping up. But Trinity chalked it up to Simon wanting to enjoy the scenic route. It really was beautiful. The rolling hills, dense forests, and winding roads with mountains in the distance. It was like something out of an Oregon travel guide.

After about three hours, they arrived at a quaint white cabin set back from the road. It looked more like a house than a cabin, but Trinity supposed the fact that it backed up to a small lake, one Simon couldn't even remember the name of, made it a cabin. To the east of the house was a patch of thick forest. To the west, another house/cabin, this one green. The two houses shared a long, gravel driveway. Standing outside the neighboring house were three men and two women, all about Trinity's age. They seemed very interested in the arrival of Simon and the Teller family.

"You know them?" Trinity asked, watching the strangers as they watched her. Simon waved and smiled at the group.

"Kinda," he explained. "The blonde girl's parents own the house. She brings friends up all the time. I haven't been here in months, so they're probably just a little surprised to see me, and with an entourage no less." It made sense, so Trinity didn't give it another thought, although it did make her a little uncomfortable as the neighbors continued to stare while she, Simon, and Tara unloaded bags and kids and carried everything into the house.

Simon gave them a tour and showed them to their rooms. He thoughtfully offered the master bedroom to Tara and the boys, inviting Trinity to stay in his room with him. She happily agreed. The house was small, but surprisingly clean, considering it had been dormant for months. Trinity expected it to be dusty and dingy, but it was very bright and open. The inside had a much more "cottagey" feel than the outside, with a nautical theme throughout. Trinity's favorite part was the screened-in back porch, which overlooked the lake. That's where she was, enjoying the breeze and the tranquil view, when Tara found her.

"Have you seen my phone?" Tara asked, not nearly as interested in appreciating her surroundings as Trinity was.

"What?" Trinity asked. "No. Is it missing?" Tara patted her pockets, as she'd likely already done several times.

"Yeah," she said. "I swore I had it before I put the boys down for a nap. Now I can't find it anywhere. I need to call Jax and tell him where we are."

"Just use mine," Trinity offered, noticing for the first time that she didn't have her phone in her pocket, either. "Huh. Must still be in my purse." Tara followed her into the dining room, an uneasy look on her face. Trinity was always misplacing her phone, so it wasn't much of a cause for concern for her like it seemed to be for Tara. She reached into her oversized bag and rummaged around for a few seconds, not feeling anything that felt like a phone. Tara watched her intently. Frustrated, Trinity dumped the contents of her purse onto the counter. No phone. "What the shit?" she grumbled.

"Listen for the boys while I go check my car," Tara instructed, a sense of urgency in her voice.

"Sure," Trinity agreed, searching the living area for her phone as Tara headed out the front door. "Where the hell is it?" she asked herself. Simon was in the basement turning on the water valves and lighting the pilot light to the hot water heater. Maybe he had it. She was tearing apart the couch cushions, even though she hadn't been anywhere near the couch yet, when Tara came running back into the house. She grabbed Trinity by the arm, pulling her close.

"We have to get out of here," she whispered. "Now." Trinity looked at her, in shock.

"What?! What are you talking about?"

"My car…has a flat tire," Tara told her. "My phone is missing, your phone is missing. And I ran into one of those creepy neighbors on my way back in, the blonde girl. I acted like I was making small talk, tried to ask her a couple of questions about where we are- the name of the town, or the name of the lake. She couldn't tell me anything. We have to get the boys, and we have to go. Right now. Where are Simon's keys?" Trinity's head was spinning. She had no idea what was happening, but she knew Tara was overreacting. She had to be.

"Tara, I'm sure…"

"Trinity," Tara warned, "do not argue with me. Something is wrong, I can feel it. We need to get the boys and get somewhere safe, somewhere public, and then we can figure out what the hell is going on." Trinity sighed, defeated, and began looking for Simon's keys. She knew her sister-in-law well enough to know that there was no point in trying to reason with her. If she felt the boys were in danger, she would have tunnel vision until they were safe. Trinity couldn't blame her, poor Tara had been through a lot over the past decade. She had a reason to be suspicious of people. But Simon? Tara had known him longer than Trinity had, she had to know what a genuine person he was. Trinity thought about sneaking to the basement to find him and tell him what was going on so that he could set Tara straight before she bolted, but she knew Tara would be furious with her.

She found a set of keys hanging from a hook on a wall in the kitchen just as she heard a door close. Thinking it was Tara coming out of the back bedroom with the boys, she jumped when she turned around and found Simon standing behind her, just returned from the basement.

"Going somewhere?" he asked. Trinity's cheeks turned bright red as she turned the keys over in her hand. How was she going to explain this to him? And why was she letting Tara get to her? Now she was feeling paranoid, almost afraid of Simon.

"Babe," Trinity said, trying to smile. "I uh…"

"Oh, hey, Tara," Simon interrupted her. Trinity watched in horror as Tara appeared in the hallway, without the boys, followed by one of the guys from next door, who seemed to be holding something to Tara's back. A gun? No way was it a gun. It couldn't be. The look on Tara's face said otherwise.

"Simon, what is going on?" Trinity asked, her heart racing. Tara was quiet as she discreetly surveyed their surroundings, trying to come up with a plan.

"Oh, Trinity," Simon sighed, sounding disappointed. "I really had hoped we'd be able to enjoy a little more of this day before we got down to business." Trinity backed into the refrigerator, trying to put space between her and Simon as he slinked toward her, a look in his eye she'd never seen before.

"What do you want?" Tara asked, very matter of factly. Simon laughed.

"What do I want?" he repeated. "Ohhhh, Tara. That's such a loaded question." Tara rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. She seemed awfully bored for someone with a gun to her back.

"What are you doing, Simon?" Trinity whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

"Aw, baby, don't cry," Simon pleaded menacingly, leaning in toward Trinity, his lips brushing her neck. She cringed. "What I want…what I'm doing…is something that's been coming for a long time, girls. It's nothing personal. You just have the misfortune of being associated with the wrong people. Story of your lives, right?"

"The club?!" Trinity choked out.

"The club," Simon said, smiling wickedly. "Ohhhh, the club. Let me tell you about the club…" Simon turned away from Trinity, ready to launch into a lengthy diatribe. Tara caught Trinity's eye.

"Go," she mouthed. "Run." Trinity nodded. She knew Tara would never leave with her babies in the house. It would be up to her to get help. She started to run, but Simon turned back around and grabbed her by the arm. She kicked him in the leg, as hard as she could. His knees buckled, giving her just enough time to get past him and out the back door. She ran toward the woods to the east of the house, not wanting to risk an encounter with Simon's neighbors, who were apparently a part of whatever the hell was going on.

She needed a plan. Tara and the boys were depending on her. This was all her fault. If she hadn't fallen for Simon's innocent act and talked Tara into going on this trip, none of this would be happening. She had no idea where she was or where she was going. She would just have to run. Run until she found a public place, somewhere she could safely call the police from. She rounded the corner of the house, headed toward the road, and slammed into what felt like a brick wall, but was actually one of Simon's neighbors. Trinity screamed, trying to struggle out of the man's arms. He was much bigger than her, though, and very strong. Trinity was no match for him.

"Shut up," he warned as Trinity continued to scream. He put his hand over her mouth as he lifted her up and began carrying her back toward the house. Trinity kicked and thrashed, sinking her teeth into his hand. "You stupid bitch!" he yelled, dropping her to the ground. She tried to scramble away, but he grabbed her by the ankle and pulled her back. She cried for help as loudly as she could, hoping to God someone somewhere would hear her and call the police. When the man leaned over to scoop Trinity back up, she kicked him square between the legs. His brown eyes were ablaze with rage as he hauled back and punched her in the face.

She woke up in the basement, her head throbbing and duct tape wrapped around her face, covering her mouth. She could barely breathe. Her hands were tied behind her back, and her feet were bound at the ankles. There was rope around her waist, tying her to a rusty metal chair. She tried to wiggle free, but the knots were too tight. She opened her eyes, her vision blurry. She was sure she had a black eye. Seated across from her, in a matching chair, was Tara. She was also bound and tied with dirty old rope, but her mouth wasn't covered. Trinity tried to call to her, but her words were muffled. Tara looked up, her eyes tearful but calm. Trinity began to cry, which made it even harder for her to breathe.

"Relax," Tara whispered. "You need to relax, Trinity." Relax? That was the difference between the two of them. That was what made Tara "old lady" material, and Trinity anything but. Trinity was heartbroken. She'd been betrayed by the man she thought she loved. Her nephews were upstairs in the custody of a bunch of psychopaths, and she and Tara were tied up and trapped in a basement. Nobody knew where they were. There was no telling what was going to happen to them. No way could Trinity relax. But Tara- Tara had never looked so calm.

"Let's play a game," Simon suggested. Neither Tara nor Trinity looked up. Simon sighed. "Girls," he pleaded. "We're gonna be spending a lot of time together, we might as well make the most of it." Tara fought the urge to spit in Simon's face. He was close enough, it would probably hit him. She had to be smart, though. She had to take opportunities when he offered them, and he'd just offered a big one without even knowing it.

"Simon," she said quietly, her voice cracking from underuse. "I don't know what your plan is, but if you're going to be keeping us down here for a while, you have to take the tape off Trinity's mouth." Simon laughed.

"Now why would I do that?" he asked. "We all know my little firecracker has a temper. How do I know I can trust her to control it?" Simon watched Trinity as he spoke. She kept her eyes focused on the floor as a show of compliance.

"Trinity has asthma," Tara announced. "She has trouble breathing, especially when she's upset. The mold down here isn't helping. You keeping her mouth covered is just a recipe for disaster. You don't want her to have an asthma attack, do you?"

"You have asthma?" Simon asked his former flame. Trinity nodded, even though it was completely untrue. "You never told me that."

"Apparently, there's a lot the two of you never told each other," Tara pointed out. Simon smiled.

"Touché," he agreed. "Trinity, sweetie, if I take the tape off, do you promise to stay quiet?" Trinity nodded again. Simon pondered this for a moment, then seemed to agree. "Okay," he said. "But I'm trusting you." As he made his way toward Trinity, she looked to Tara for guidance. Tara nodded reassuringly.

"Stay calm," she mouthed. Trinity held still as Simon unwound the duct tape from around her face, fighting the urge to scream as the tape pulled at her hair and skin. Once he was finished, Simon placed the palm of his hand against Trinity's cheek.

"Better?" he asked. Everything in Trinity's body wanted to cringe from his touch, but she leaned into it instead.

"Yes," she whispered. "Thank you." Simon gently brushed wet, tangled hair from her face, then lifted her chin up to study her bruised, swollen eye.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Not too much," she lied. "Simon?" she asked. "Why are you doing this? I thought you cared about me. I thought we had something special."

"Ohhhh, Trinity," he sighed, smiling. "I thought we did, too. You, the bastard daughter of John Teller, me the…" Simon was interrupted by commotion upstairs. All three of them looked toward the basement ceiling, where the banging and struggling was coming from.

"My babies," Tara whispered, sitting up straight, her eyes wide with panic.

"The boys are fine," Simon assured her, with such nonchalance she knew he was telling the truth. "I'm not going to let anything happen to them, I promise. No…that's someone else." Simon turned back to the girls, a sick smile on his face. "We have another guest," he announced. Tara and Trinity watched in horror as the basement door opened again and two pair of boots appeared at the top.

"Walk," the voice Trinity recognized as the man who'd assaulted her instructed. The smaller pair of boots began shuffling forward, down the stairs, the others right behind him. When the new guest reached the basement, Tara and Trinity both gasped in horror. His head was covered with a black hood, his t-shirt covered in blood, but Tara recognized the kutte instantly. Trinity recognized the tattoos.

"Juice," Trinity breathed, fresh tears coming to her eyes.

"Juuuiiiice!" Simon shouted, as if he were excited to see him. He yanked the hood from Juice's head. Juice blinked, acclimating to his surroundings. His eyes widened in horror when he saw Tara and Trinity. "Welcome," Simon said. Juice spit in his face. Simon responded by punching him in the mouth, causing blood to gush from his lower lip. "Tie him up," Simon instructed his lackey. He looked down at his t-shirt, which was now splattered with Juice's blood and saliva. "Gross," he muttered to himself. He took the shirt off and tossed it toward the ancient looking washer and dryer in the far corner of the basement as his associate led Juice to the empty chair and began tying him up. Simon studied his three captives for a moment, a satisfied smile on his face. "The sins of the father," he said, shaking his head. He turned his back to them and headed up the stairs. "The sins of the father," he repeated.

"He who seeks revenge," Tara murmured.

"What?" Trinity asked.

"His tattoo," Tara explained. Trinity nodded. Of course. Just one of the million things Simon had lied to her about.

Lyla sat on the couch in Jax and Tara's family room, surrounded by her children. Ellie was asleep with her head in Lyla's lap, while the boys were still up playing video games. Lyla gently stroked Ellie's hair as she watched her husband and the entirety of the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club run around the house like a bunch of chickens with their heads cut off, looking for clues, making phone calls.

Lyla didn't know exactly what was going on, but what she did know, she didn't understand. For some reason, they thought Simon had kidnapped Tara and the boys. Why would Simon do that? Lyla had a hard time believing it. But she'd learned a long time ago to stay out of club business, even though Opie wasn't technically in the club any longer. Opie's phone rang on the table beside Lyla. She picked it up, thinking it might be a call Opie needed to take. It was Shana. Fucking cunt, Lyla thought, reaching for the 'ignore' button. But something stopped her. What if something was wrong with the baby? She had to answer it.

"Hello?" she said, annoyed.

"I-is Opie there?" Lyla really hoped this girl's stuttering was just the habit of a dumbass and not something genetic that could be passed along to the baby.

"He's busy," Lyla told her. "What do you need, Shana?"

"Oh, I…I just had something I thought I should tell him," Shana explained.

"Is it about the baby?" Lyla asked.

"No," Shana said. "It's about his friend's family, the ones that are missing. I think I know where he can find them."