The Mercedes hugged the curves of the backroads. Winsome's dark hair was controlled by the wind that circled around her. She needed the windows down. It helped her think. Her heart was pounding with a mix of exhilaration, fury, and sadness. It hurt to take Julius out like she did, but there was nothing that could be done about that. She'd come too far to lose now. She was so close to getting the revenge she'd craved for the last twenty-five years. She closed her eyes for a second and gritted her teeth. Memories threatened to engulf her as she drove at breakneck speed towards the cabin. As she opened her eyes, the road was lost, and the past was in front of her.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." The minister's voice was heavy as he spoke. There were hundreds of mourners attending the funeral of Jackson Nathaniel Teller. A sea of black leather surrounded his stunningly beautiful silver coffin as it was lowered into the ground. Winsome watched as Wendy, Nero, Chibs, and Jax's boys stepped forward. The boys wore black button-ups and black pants. Thomas was on Wendy's hip, his blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight. Abel held her hand. His blue eyes, Jax's eyes, didn't cry. Wendy hid her tears behind huge, oversized, gold-rimmed aviator glasses. Winsome's eyes narrowed. So that's her, Winsome thought angrily. She remembered Jax's words about her.
"You'd never know it now," he'd said, "But she was a junkie of epic proportions. Our son almost died because of her addiction. If she can stay clean, you can stay clean, Winsome. You're doing an amazing job."
She'd been clean almost a month when Jax Teller sought her bed. The cravings were terrible, but the haze that she'd lived in with Greensleeves was worse. Still, her body ached for a release she couldn't describe, and her past threatened to engulf her with horror and memories. When Jax had sauntered into Diosa, Winsome knew that he was exactly the drug she needed. He smiled that amazing, seductive smile, and she was lost. When he took her back, she was convinced it was love that Jax had for her, when in reality, it was just a fuck. Tara was always what Jax wanted, and Winsome, while pretty and a master of amazing sex, was a means to an end.
He cried in my arms. Winsome held him that night. She rocked him and listened to him talk about Tara, about Wendy, about his father, about everything. We connected.
"Do you ever worry about something happening to you?" she'd asked. They lay face to face in bed, the sheets barely covering their naked bodies. Jax inhaled deeply as his eyes glazed with emotion. Jax opened it, closed it, and opened it again.
"Yeah, all the time," he'd answered. "That's why I thank God for Wendy." He laughed bitterly. "You know, if you'd asked me just a couple years ago about the mother of my children, I would have told you Tara was their mother, and Wendy was just a junkie crack whore. But the insanity of it all is that Wendy is the strongest and the healthiest of all of us. She's been amazing since Tara's death. She's really stepped up."
Just another baby mama. The words reverberated in Winsome's head as she stared at Wendy as she set Thomas on his feet. The minister droned on for another minute or so, then Wendy knelt next to Abel. She whispered in his ear, and the tiny boy carefully moved forward. The child's face was emotionless as he picked up a small clod of dirt and tossed it on the gleaming box. Wendy followed suit, then Chibs and Nero. Each smack of earth on the top of the coffin were bullets penetrating Winsome's soul. We could have been something, Jackson Teller. The club drove you to this death.
Behind her own dark sunglasses, Winsome glared at the remaining members of SAMCRO. Nero had been the one to tell the Diosa girls about Jax's death. Suicide. The word made her blood run cold. Her father's death still loomed heavy in her memory. What made you do it? She looked at Chibs and Nero's faces. Guilt shrouded their eyes. The fucking club made you do it. Winsome didn't need to hear any explanations. To her, it was obvious. Her mind simply couldn't process any normal reality. It hadn't been right since her father shot himself before her eyes. It wouldn't have mattered if she knew the truth or not, once Winsome made up her mind, nothing would change it. Standing there, watching the ones closest to Jax grieve, Winsome made up her mind. SAMCRO took her one shot at love from her.
When the funeral ended and the mourners dispersed, Winsome stuck by Jax's grave. She knelt by the open ground. She threw clod after clod of dirt on Jax's casket. She wanted to say her own special goodbye to the man that saved her from Greensleeves. Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she didn't bother to wipe them away. Her hands were filthy from the black dirt, but she didn't care. All that mattered was the body in the box. You saved me from the streets. You saved me from hell. Thank you, Jax. Thank you.
"Who are you?" The question rang out in the hot afternoon. Winsome looked up. On the other side of the open ground stood Wendy. Her arms were crossed beneath her breasts. Dressed in black skinny jeans, a black sleeveless shirt, and sky high black wedges, Jax's ex-wife cut a dark, foreboding figure against the perfect blue sky and green landscape. Her lean, tanned arms shimmered in the noonday sun.
"Why the fuck do you care?" Winsome barked out. Wendy's mouth was set in a firm, hard line.
"I don't really," she retaliated back. "I'm just looking at the men standing behind you. They want to bury my children's father. You're holding up progress."
"Progress?" Winsome spit. "You call burying this man progress?"
"I don't have to explain that to you," Wendy stated. "But I have two little boys that need to let go of this day. In order for that to happen, this man needs to be laid to rest. If there is a Heaven, he's in it, with the love of his life."
Winsome teared up at Wendy's words.
"You need to leave. Whores have no place here. Just because he fucked you, doesn't mean he loved you." Wendy's voice hit like buckshot in Winsome's heart. I could have been the next one, she thought silently. I should have been the next one. As she stood, she didn't take her eyes off of Jax's grave. You took that away from me. The club took that away from me. She didn't utter a syllable as she walked past Wendy. Her brain ached with Wendy's cruelty. Fuck you bitch, she thought.
Winsome felt Wendy's eyes on her as she walked away. She heard the men begin to slide dirt in to Jax's grave. You'll pay for that insult, Wendy, Winsome thought as she walked away. And your precious club will pay for taking Jax from me. Within a month, she learned she was pregnant with Julius, and the plan slowly set itself into motion. It took twenty-five years for her plan to come to fruition.
Now, in the Mercedes Chibs bought her, the plan had been executed to perfection. Until now. Julius fucked that up. She blinked back tears as she thought about her only son lying dead. His blue eyes remained open, staring lifelessly into hers. I didn't want you to die, my love, but I have come too far to turn back now. Your words could ruin everything. I just have to get to the cabin before they do.
The road became more familiar as she sped across the dusty desert. The pavement changed to a long dirt road, and she knew she was close. She slowed as she neared the driveway of the cabin. A self-satisfied smile stretched across her face. I got here first. She was actually surprised that they hadn't beaten her there. Tig and Chibs could've driven it in their sleep. Abel and Thomas. She smiled once more, remembering that the Teller brothers didn't know the way like the older men did. That's why they're not here yet. A tiny triumphant giggle escaped her lips.
She was careful to park the car a short distance away from the cabin. As she stepped out of the car, she realized her high heels had to go. Gravel and Louboutins didn't mix. Luckily, she always had a pair of flats in the trunk. For moments like these, she thought giddily. It took a couple of seconds to change, and then she ran up the hill to the cabin. Her feet knew the pathway to the underground basement. She circled the cabin and found the red door. She made her way down the flight of concrete stairs. The second red door was heavy and old, but it opened easily once she unlocked it.
"Wendy?" Winsome called. There was a small, short hallway that opened up to the tiny room that had become Wendy's prison. To her amazement, Wendy was in the same place she and Julius had left her. She didn't move or make a sound. Fuck, Winsome cursed internally. Did she OD anyway? Slowly, she walked towards the unconscious woman and knelt beside her. A slender fingertip tucked under Wendy's chin, and Winsome took an appraising look at her face.
"What? You thought I was dead?" Wendy's voice startled her as she opened her gorgeous sepia eyes. A slow burning grin spread across the captive woman's face. "Sorry to disappoint."
Before Winsome could open her mouth to speak, Wendy's fist barreled into her soft cheek. Sent reeling from the blow, Winsome landed on her ass. Her forearms scratched across the concrete, and she cried out. Her eyes shut for a moment as she caught her breath.
"Open your eyes, bitch," Wendy commanded. Winsome did as she was told. To her horror, Wendy Padilla was no longer a captive. She was free of heroin and of the prison that bound her. She stood confidently in front of her, and her stance was exactly as it was the day they buried Jax. She could feel her heart pumping hard and fast as she stood to meet the older woman's eyes. Disheveled and filthy, Wendy was still stunningly beautiful. Neither one of the women moved toward the other. They stood in John Teller's former sanctuary, facing off.
"What, did you think that I would just let you kill me?" Wendy questioned. "You should know better than that, Winsome."
"How did you know my—"
"Let's just say she was briefed," a dark baritone interrupted. Winsome looked over her shoulder, her eyes growing wide at the scene before her. Thomas stood in front of her, his head almost touching the low ceiling. His blue eyes, eyes like Julian's, like Jax's, frigidly stared back at her. At his heels were Abel and Tig.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" Wendy asked. She was genuinely curious.
"I…I…I…" Winsome stammered. She was caught. Even if she could try to escape, she'd be easily caught by one of Jax's sons.
"You were all bravado and balls the last time you came here, from what I hear," Abel spoke in a low whisper. He pushed past Thomas and got in Winsome's face. Her breasts heaved against his broad, well-muscled chest, and her dark eyes were huge with horror. "That fucking piece of shit son of yours hit my mother. You better pray he makes it out alive when I see him again."
Winsome had nothing to lose. She knew death was imminent at this point. The only question was how and when at this point. Her confidence had been kicked out from beneath her, but it returned valiantly with acceptance of her fate. She grinned wolfishly, then laughed. The sound bordered on insanity.
"Once again, I got to it before you did," Winsome admitted through her sadistic giggles. "Julius is exactly where you left him, dead. He didn't even see it coming. It was a mercy killing."
A wounded sound erupted in the confined space. The moment seemed to move in slow-motion as Tig jumped from behind both Thomas and Abel and grabbed Winsome by the throat. Without thinking or a moment of hesitation, Tig slammed Winsome's tiny body against the closest concrete wall. She fought him wildly, like a crazed, angry cat. Her nails clawed at his face, his kutte. Her feet dangled a good few inches from the floor.
"You fucking killed him?" Tig screamed. "He fucking loved you, you sick fucking bitch!" Thomas moved towards them, but Abel held him back.
"What if he kills her?" Thomas asked his brother. "It'll ruin everything."
"He won't," Abel countered. "And if he looks like he will, I'll step in. Let Tig do his thing." Thomas nodded, but his body was ready to spring into action, if needed. He looked at his older brother. A photo of their father flashed through his mind. It was Jax, just days before his death. He stood alone, apathetically gazing into the camera. Now, in this long forgotten basement, Jax Teller had returned in his brother. Gone was the man horrified by Winsome and Julius' incestuous bond. In his place was the calm and composed ghost of their. Abel had the same cocky stance, the same lifelessness in his eyes. It made Thomas' blood run cold.
"You goddamned whore," Tig breathed into her face. "You fucked that kid. Your fucking kid. You messed with his heart, his soul, and his head, making him unfit for anyone but you."
"It was fucking good," Winsome stated without conscience or remorse. "Once he learned what he was doing." Tig tightened his grip on her slender throat and spit in her face.
"Easy," Abel cautioned. Thomas watched as Tig adjusted the grip ever so slightly, but it helped Winsome breathe.
"Where the fuck is his father?" Tig queried. "Or do you even know?"
"Oh I know," Winsome whispered. "He's under a fucking headstone."
"Thank God for that," Tig countered. "If you did that to my kid, I'd fucking gut you." Winsome rolled her eyes.
"Spare me the holier than thou bullshit," Winsome spewed. "You've killed more people than you can count, and as if that weren't bad enough, you're shacked up with some skanky tranny playing house."
A solid punch in the gut told Winsome she'd gone too far. Immediately, Abel pulled Tig from her, and Winsome fell to the ground. She smiled, in spite of her agony, then licked her lips. The taste of blood was surprisingly good.
"It's so easy to rile you up," she croaked.
"You're going to die," Abel stated.
"Aren't we all?" Winsome drawled sarcastically. Abel fought the urge to slap her for a moment, then he gave in to the temptation. A solid backhand successfully knocked her unconscious. Without hesitating, Abel grabbed her wrists and bound them in front of her. The sound of the duct tape ripping strangely satisfied the older Teller brother. Once he finished, he looked down upon the bitch that'd caused him so much agony. Behind him, he could hear Thomas and Wendy talking Tig down.
"You can't kill her yet," Thomas murmured. "Chibs has to know the truth, and he has to sentence her. You know this. It's easy to forget, but we have to remember: Winsome is his goddamned wife."
"She is worth the bullet," Wendy chimed in. "But we can't go against Chibs, not now." Abel could hear Tig acquiescing. He breathed a sigh of relief, but it didn't calm his thoughts. You're gonna die today, bitch, he thought silently. Nobody is going to stop me.
Abel rose from the squatting position and faced Tig, Wendy, and Thomas. Family. It was the only word that rang in his head as he looked at them. These people are my family. For the first time since his father died, Abel Teller felt whole. Jax and Tara's deaths had rocked his world, and through that tragedy, he found that pushing emotions down was easier. He was Wendy's son, but he never felt part of her. No matter how hard she, Nero, and Thomas tried, there'd been a massive gaping hole in his heart.
That's why I came back to Charming. It was true. The minute he stepped into Teller-Morrow, he felt accepted and loved. He'd walk the halls and feel his parents' presence surrounding him. He'd thought then that he'd found a family and a home, but as he stared at Wendy, Thomas, and Tig, he knew that the ghosts of his past weren't what he needed, not anymore. What he needed was the flesh and blood that stood before him. It had taken him twenty-five years to find what he sought, even though it'd been in front of him the entire time.
"What's wrong, Abel?" Wendy's voice broke into his thoughts. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered.
"You want her upstairs?" Tig asked, nodding towards Winsome's unconscious body. Abel nodded.
"I called Chibs before we got here," Thomas said aloud. "They're on their way back. I told him to come to the cabin first. Rat, Quinn, TO, and Happy are with him. Again, Abel nodded.
"Help me with this bitch, Tommy," Tig said quietly. "We gotta get her upstairs before she wakes up." Thomas knew Tig was more than capable of carrying the petite woman upstairs, but he also knew Abel. He knew that his older brother needed to talk to Wendy, and he wouldn't if they were there. Thomas went over to her. Tig followed and grabbed her under her arms. Thomas grabbed her feet. Together, they headed upstairs to wait.
"Abel, what's wrong?" Wendy asked again. Like Thomas, she knew Abel like the back of her hand. She knew something was up, but he was too stubborn to say anything unless asked. Her son didn't answer. Instead, he walked up to the mother he'd never really wanted. His lips trembling, he took her in his arms and held her. They stood there for a moment, rocking back and forth.
"I'm sorry," Abel whispered. He could feel her tears soaking through his shirt. "I should have listened to you."
"You did what you needed to do," Wendy replied. "This place is in your blood, just as it is in mine. I should have known better than to think you could turn your back on Charming. You can't. It's just who you are."
"If anything had happened to you—" he said, but the ache in his throat silenced him.
"It didn't. I've endured worse than this," Wendy said. "And I'm still here."
"But what kind of son am I?" Abel sobbed. "I've never been good to you, and I didn't realize that…that…I needed you until now, until I almost lost you." Wendy pulled away from her son and looked into his eyes.
"You are my son, " Wendy said. "You and Thomas. You're my sons. I love you more than anything. You're all I need in this life. I'm not going anywhere. I am here, Abel. I am here." Abel took her back into his arms and held her tight. They stood in the center of the basement, suspended in time. The realization filled the emptiness inside. He knew the path before him was a dangerous one, a path of bloodbaths and kidnappings and drugs and guns, and he knew every day he woke could be his last. Still, this was his life; it was part of him, as was the woman in his arms. Nothing else mattered except this moment. Abel relished the feeling. For the first time in twenty-five years, Abel Teller was grateful to know that he was no longer alone.