Four

Seth had to hand it to his sister – when she set her mind to something, she was a force to be reckoned with. Slowly but surely, he'd gone from not getting his hopes up about his relaunch night, to actually feeling excited about it. And now, for the first time in a long time, it felt like things were actually falling into place for him.

Organising the fight night that was now just days away had required a helluva lot of work and cost him a little bit of cash, but it looked like he was still going to come out on top. Sure, some of it wasn't strictly above board, but it wasn't anything to be worried about – not even with his record. It was just the kind of wrong side of legit that you could get away with in a little town like Charming and no one would bat an eyelid. Not even law enforcement. Especially since the newest sheriff had decided to actually learn from his predecessors and not meddle in anything that might only cause further aggravation. Live and let live seemed to be Jerry Collins' motto, and no one was going to argue with that.

Chances were, when it came to fight night, he'd actually be hollering on the competitors from ring-side.

It was turning out to be a right little earner too. Seth was making money in membership for those training at his gym, and had attracted new customers out of those wanting to enter the tournament, as well as bagging fight night entry fees. Plus he'd allowed a book to be opened, giving him a cut of any profits. And he'd set up a makeshift bar selling booze he'd managed to get a heavy discount on.

All in all, he reckoned he could comfortably offer up a decent cash prize to the winner and make a not insignificant donation to St Thomas, all while still turning a tidy profit – hopefully taking himself a step further from ex-con and one closer to respectable citizen in the eyes of the locals.

His sister was a goddam genius.

Deciding to tell her so, he looked around the gym, catching sight of her outside the ring, up on the apron and leaning on the ropes as she watched a training session.

It was Samcro in the ring – that kid who was still on trial with the club and the dangerous looking bald one, plus Chibs and Tig shouting orders.

"Maybe this is a … a mistake …" the younger one was panting, both he and his opponent sweating profusely, although only one of them looked like he wasn't enjoying it.

"A mistake?" Chibs yelled angrily. "You think me backing your scrawny arse is a mistake? That's not a narrative you want to be peddlin', boyo, all things considered!"

"Yeah, less bitching and more fighting," Tig chipped in impatiently. "Hit him, Happy."

A huge fist caught the kid square in the face, having lashed out with snake-like speed and he yelped in agony as he hit the mat like a crumpled sack of shit. "My eye!" he wailed. "I wasn't ready!"

"He wasn't ready," Tig told Happy, in a pseudo-telling off.

"Sorry," Happy said, looking anything but.

"I can't see!" the kid wailed again, sending Chibs into a stream of thickly accented curses.

Eden grabbed her bag and ducked under the ropes, jogging lightly across the ring to kneel beside the stricken prospect who had his face buried in his gloves and was rocking in pain.

"Don't go fussing over him - he'll be fine, doll," Tig interjected. "Come on, you, get up and walk it off."

"I can't walk my eye off," Charlie mumbled, in too much pain to even realise he was talking back to a superior, jumping at the hand that touched his shoulder as if expecting fresh violence against him even now.

"Easy, Charlie," Eden soothed, having already treated the young man for multiple minor injuries inflicted in the course of his training. "It's only me. Let me take a look."

Gently, she pried his gloved hands away from his face and tilted his head up, flinching herself at the sight of the mess. One eye was already swollen shut and turning black where blood was pooling under the skin, and the other one didn't actually look too great either. "Holy shit …"

"Oh god, is it bad? Am I blind?" the prospect panicked, trying to get up.

"No, no, no, don't worry," she said quickly. "Don't get up just yet. I'm going to get you fixed up."

"I can't see-"

"I know," Eden said, patting his arm gently. "I know, but it's okay. Your eye's just very swollen and you've probably got sweat and a bit of blood in it. Try to relax for me … Seth?"

"Problem?" he called from across the gym.

"Can you get me some ice?"

"On it."


"So, what's the verdict?"

"I'm really sorry … I just don't think he's realistically going to be able to fight. It's too big a risk. His eye's still so swollen and, one punch to the face, there's gonna be blood everywhere. The ref'll have to stop it. Seth isn't going to let someone get seriously injured in his gym. I'm sorry, Filip."

Part of Chibs, having thrown himself into the idea of this bloody fight night as a distraction as much as anything else, was raging that it had now been thrown into disarray. But the sound of his name on Eden's lips and the concerned look on her face went a long way towards making him swallow that frustration down.

"Not your fault, love," he sighed. "Shite happens. We knew the kid was a gamble anyway when we stumped up the entry fee. Guess I just thought if we were gonna throw our money away, we'd at least get him in the goddamn ring …"

"Seth's really sorry he can't give you your money back, but he'd put it out there that there were no refunds, so he says other guys'll go nuts if they think you got special treatment – especially the guys from rival gyms."

"I know. He's already said we can put in a replacement fighter and get our money's worth that way, but it's looking like it's just too short notice."

"I'm sorry."

"So you said," he smiled, touching a knuckle to her chin. "Cheer up, pet – it ain't the end o' the world."

"I think it feels like it for poor Charlie. Go easy on him, yeah?"

Chibs snorted. "He's a wee eejit, but it's not like it was his fault. Hap's put better men than him down."

"So maybe tell him that," Eden suggested. "He thinks you all hate him. I better go see if anyone else needs me. Catch you later."

Watching her go, Chibs found himself tilting his head to better admire her ass and then caught himself guiltily, shaking off the less than chaste thoughts in his mind to reluctantly go and check up on his prospect. He wasn't hard to find, back in his street clothes, but still slumped on a bench in the gym's locker room with his decidedly battered head in his also battered hands. The boy looked the picture of misery and even Chibs had to take pity on him, not that he was necessarily planning on showing it.

He heaved a sigh and sat down heavily beside the younger man. "What's this I hear about you cryin' on Eden's shoulder?" he demanded.

"I wasn't crying," came the sulky mumble, but there was no trace of fire in it.

"You think she wants to listen to you boohooing all evening? Pick what's left o' yer face up and come on, let's get off home."

Charlie looked up at that, making his president wince when he caught sight of the damage. Between all the training over the last three weeks and the latest blow Happy had inflicted, the kid really was a mess. It'd be a while before they'd be getting back to aiming their usual pretty boy jibes at him.

"Home? I can still stay? At the clubhouse?"

Realisation dawned on Chibs and he inwardly cursed himself for not catching on quicker. He was capable of many things, but cruelty for the sheer sake of it wasn't in his nature. Messing with the lad was one thing, but he knew all too well where real mental anguish could lead.

"Jesus, lad, we ain't gonna kick you out over missing one fight," he told him, slinging an arm around his shoulders and giving him a companionable squeeze, before realising he was probably only causing him more discomfort. Some of those earlier body shots had been pretty brutal.

"This was my chance to prove myself," Charlie said quietly. "I … I want this so bad, Chibs. I don't want to fuck up. Like my dad."

"Hey, you listen to me," Chibs said firmly. "If we're hard on you, it's because we're hard on everyone, yeah? We gotta be or this life'll chew ya up and spit ya out. But I promised you the club would give you a fair trial and that's what you'll get - or I'll hear the reason why. You gotta put all that shite wi' yer da in the past. We have."

"Really?"

"Really. Make it through your year, and there ain't no reason you can't be Samcro. You got plenty to offer when you put your mind to it, kid."

Charlie sat up a little straighter, trying not to wince as he did so, wiping his hands over his swollen face and nodding, new determination seeming to creep through him.

"I'm going to show you, Chibs. You, Tig, Happy, all of you," he said fiercely. "I'm going to get back in the ring, I'm going to be a boxer, I'm going to be Samcro."

"That's the spirit!" Chibs enthused, slapping him on the back.

"Hey, Eden's been so nice to me while I've been training, patching me up and stuff … She's really hot, like really hot. Do you think I-"

"I wouldn't push yer fuckin' luck, son."


Seeing Chibs and Charlie heading home, the Sons of Anarchy president actually relenting enough to carry the younger man's kit bag for him, slung easily over his shoulder, Eden caught up with them by the front door. "Hey, you guys need a lift back or anything?"

"We're good, sweetheart," Chibs smiled. "Dumb's bringing the van to pick up Dumber here. Our other prospect? We call him Wheels. Training Wheels, if we're giving him a hard time. Actually, he's probably already parked up – off ya go, lad, while I have a word wi' your saviour here."

They watched as he limped off, before turning to each other expectantly.

"Listen, love," Chibs started. "I just wanted to say thanks. Patching the boy up. Putting a word in for him. You were right – he weren't in a great place and I shoulda seen it. Might seem like we're sore on him, but he's one of us and we take care of our own. Just do me a favour and don't tell him. He's still gotta earn that patch."

"I get it," Eden said with a little nod. And somehow, looking up into those warm brown eyes, she actually did. She knew the Sons' ruthless reputations just like the rest of the town did, but she trusted Chibs to take care of his young charge. "Tough love, huh?"

"Something like that," he grinned. "So we're havin' a bit o' a get-together at the clubhouse tomorrow night – some o' the lads from out o' town are planning to come and support us at yer fight night, so they'll start arriving and expecting a party."

"Most people get a decent meal and a good night's rest before a big fight," the paramedic pointed out.

"Aye, we're not exactly most people," Chibs laughed. "You should come. To the clubhouse. Bring yer brother, or I dunno, couple o' mates. We ain't exactly got a strict door policy. Not for our friends anyway."

"Uh, I'll … see if I can make it," she managed, thrown by the unexpected invite and getting a little shrug in response to her stammered reply.

"No pressure. Any time after, like, seven? Only if ya fancy it," Chibs said, leaning down to give her a little peck on the cheek, his beard surprisingly soft against her skin. "Be good to see ya when you ain't stitching one o' us up … Later, darlin'."

"Bye, Filip," Eden said softly, watching from the door as he strolled towards the van and climbed into the front passenger seat, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip as the path her mind had drifted towards made her flush. "Damn … Seth's gonna lock me up."