Hey loyal readers! Here is the next chapter. Mild warning without too many spoilers...this first section references something that can be a trigger to some readers. There is nothing graphic or detailed, but if violence, particularly sexual violence, is upsetting to you in that way, you may want to skip it. Otherwise, read on and REVIEW!

Also, I didn't get to edit this as thoroughly as I want to. You have been warned!

Tess laid across the bed, running out of ways to keep her mind busy. The room she had been placed in at their new location was not nearly as spacious and comfortable as her last one had been. This room was small and cramped, with a twin sized bed and walls painted a dirty shade of yellow that made her feel sick. There was a damp smell that hung in the air, and Tess couldn't help but think of the black mold that likely filled the walls around her. She pictured it latched on to the very air she breathed, creeping into her lungs and poisoning her from within.

These pleasant thoughts occupied her mind, keeping her company. Lex had thankfully not been to see her since she had arrived. He had lead her, blindfolded, through the house and into the room. Before he left, he had kissed her softly and told her to "relax". When he left the room, she had fought the urge to vomit. She had absolutely no idea how long she had been here, drifting between sleep and boredom. Tess considered herself a strong woman, a feminist if there ever was one, but at this point, she was more than ready for her knight in dingy leather to come rescue her.

She had all but given up listening to anything that happened outside the tightly locked door of this room, but she couldn't help but be intrigued by the litany of phone calls that had recently begun coming in. The place she was being kept must be tiny, because she could hear literally everything that happened. The calls were generally followed by a barrage of loud Russian chatter, and doors opening and shutting, and then silence. The quiet should have relieved her, for it was a break from the intense shouting that she couldn't understand a lick of, but instead, it set her on edge. Something was happening, and Tess had no idea what, a fact that had lodged itself right under her skin.

Boredom should not be something that concerned her at the moment. She was being held captive, alone, in a strange place, with no idea of what was happening or when this ordeal would be over. She should be terrified, up and pacing and on edge over what would happen next. She should be angry, out of her mind with thought of revenge. She should absolutely NOT be lounging on the bed, wishing for a television or a Kindle or a fucking coloring book or literally anything for an ounce of something keep her mind busy.

Almost as if life were answering her silent request for entertainment with a cruel taunt, the shrill sound of the phone sounded through the house, followed by the incessant Russian. No matter how long she lived, and considering her current circumstances it may not be very long at all, she swore that she would never be able to hear Russian without wanting to scream. She pulled the lone, stinking pillow over her face and groaned. She begun counting silently in her head, waiting for the silence to return, feeling insane for having ever missed it.

She had reached 203, when she heard the phone slam down. She expected the usual conversation to follow, but she was surprised when she got 12 seconds of silence, followed by 134 seconds of what could only be an intense argument. This was a conversation, this was most definitely a fight, complete with banging fists and thrown punches, if she wasn't mistaken. It was ended when whoever the head honcho was yelled, quite simply and dangerous, "ENOUGH!". The sudden declaration, in English, surprised Tess, and it must have surprised the others as well, because the fighting stopped. She heard the tap turn on and the water running. She heard the front door open, and she heard footsteps leave. For a brief moment, she swore she could heard the sound of an ice cream truck out on the street, and it made her smile to know that there was still a world out there where children bought ice cream. She continued counting.

Tess must have gotten distracted in her number game, because she didn't hear the footsteps coming down the hall until they stopped right outside her door. They paused for a count of four seconds, before the door swung open. Lex stood, framed by the door, shooting her an unreadable look, and though she didn't know why, Tess was instantly scared. His right cheek bore the beginning of a bruise, and his eyebrow had been split open. She instantly knew that it had been him yelling and fighting earlier. He shut the door.

"Lex?" she asked cautiously, more afraid in this moment than she had been during this entire ordeal.

"Tess," he pressed his lips together in a poor imitation of a smile. His voice was gentle and sweet, but his tone was anything but. "My sweet, beautiful Tess. I am supposed to be in here to bring you the news that you will be going home soon."

"What?" she asked, at a complete loss as to what was going on, and why he might be telling her this. "What's going on?"

"What's going on is that your blonde biker boy has come through for you," Lex informed her, his voice laced with ice. "We've made a deal with SAMCRO for your return."

She knew it was a bad idea, but she couldn't help but audibly sigh at that news. Kozik had done it. He and their friends were saving her, and that was the best news she had ever heard. Nearly as soon as it appeared, the smile that his news brought was wiped off her face.

"Yes, I am sure you're so very relieved," he mocked her. "You're going home to the man you've wanted to be with from the beginning. Isn't that great news?"

"Lex, I…" she stammered, but stopped. She had no idea why she was about to defend herself to a man who had kidnapped her and harmed her and was apparently holding her as a bargaining chip. She had to get a grip. Making her voice as steady as she could possibly manage, she continued. "You did this. You took me, and you hurt me, and I want to go home."

"And I have to let you," he replied, moving closer to her. She leaned back until she hit the wall. "But I never said I would send you back untouched. I did take you, and now I have to send you back. I may as well make it worth my while."

Before she could utter ever a word, he was on her, and she was pinned to the bed, and she felt fucking stupid for ever wishing for something to distract her from her boredom, because it had brought her this. She screamed as he tore her shirt, and she knew that no matter how loud she yelled, it wouldn't matter at all, because nobody could save her from this.

The main room of the Club house was loud, still full of people crowded around pool tables and perched by the bar and lounging on couches. It took Chuckie a moment of scanning the crowd before he finally found Gemma, curled in an easy chair, reading to Abel while Tara slept on the couch nearby. It was a sweet, mellow scene, and Chuckie hated to break it up, but the man on the phone had sounded serious, and he was pretty sure that this was important.

"Gemma," Chuckie spoke up as he rushed to her side. "Somebody just called here."

"Are you going to tell me who, Stumpy, or are you just going to stand there?" she asked, glaring at him for daring to interrupt a bonding moment between her and her grandson.

"They didn't say their name," Chuckie explained, anxiety evident in his voice. "They just said it was an old friend from Moscow and they said that they would call back in one hour, and they said that it was time to talk terms. They said to tell SAMCRO, and Opie is asleep, and, well, I didn't know who else to tell."

"Shit," she muttered, standing in a flash, the baby in her arms instantly alert. "Shit!"

"What's wrong Gemma?" Tara asked sleepily, her nap abruptly cut off by Gemma's outburst. She wasn't the only one instantly on alert. Unser, Kerrianne, and even Kenny and Ellie were focused on Gemma after the strange declaration.

"We need to wake up the guys," Gemma reported, handing Abel over to Tara. "The Russians called. They want to talk. Kenny, get Grandpa Piney. Kerrianne, go get your get your Dad. I will see about waking Opie."

"Yeah, I know that it's important, but I know my parents pretty well, and there is no way in hell I am going anywhere near that room," Kerrianne proclaimed seriously, her face the picture of disgusted. "There is no reason I need to see anything that's happening in there."

Gemma couldn't help but crack a smile and nod. "You're probably right. Chuckie, you do it. Now."

They scattered in different direction to accomplish their tasks. It took much longer than it should have to rouse two grown men from sleep, but within fifteen minutes, Opie and Chibs and both their companions emerged from the dorm area.

"Chapel," was all Opie had to say for everybody to stand up and follow him into the large room. With the exception of Piney, Opie, and Chibs, none of them had spent much time in the chapel. This place was mysterious and the secrets that were harboured here could fill a book or two. Most of the older women didn't seem affected by the atmosphere of the room, but Kerrianne and even Lila were. It was almost as if they were afraid of being discovered and thrown out. They couldn't stop themselves from staring around in awe and staying very quiet in an attempt to go unnoticed.

"Alright Chuckie," Opie spoke up. "Tell us exactly what happened."

Chuckie began explaining. "It was weird. The phone rang and I answered it. The guy said that he had a message for SAMCRO. He didn't even ask to talk to anybody specific. He just said that he would call back in one hour to talk terms. And then he was very rude and hung up before I could even say anything to him."

"When was this?" Piney asked the question they were all thinking. "How much time do we have left?"

Chuckie shrugged. "Half an hour?"

Chibs rolled his eyes. "Super helpful, thanks Chuckie."

"Yeah, that doesn't leave us much time at all," Opie said. He turned towards Tara. "We need to wake Kozik up. Can we do that?"

"I mean, yeah, we can. I only gave him a mild sedative, nothing narcotic. It might not be pretty…." Tara trailed off, concerned.

"Doesn't matter," Opie told her. "He should be here and awake for this. We will need to vote, and he gets a vote." Tara nodded.

"I talked to the Irish, a few hours ago," Chibs informed them. "They are going to help us, I am just not sure how, exactly."

"Give them a call back," Opie suggested in a way that made it clear that it wasn't a suggestion. "We need to see where we are with them."

Chibs nodded, praying that McCormick could come through on his promises.

"I talked to Clay," Gemma reported. "He was going to try to get a message to the Russians in prison. They are all safe in there for now, but the sooner that this is settled with the Russians, the better for everybody."

"Alright," Opie agreed. "Let's get this done. Make your calls, do what you need to do. Boys, we will be back in the chapel in 20, alright? This is Club business, so it'll be closed doors."

They all nodded in understanding and left to accomplish their given tasks. Opie remained seated behind the table as everybody filed out, trying to convince himself that this was going to work out. He didn't stay that was for long. There were things that needed to be done and not nearly enough time to do it, so he hauled himself up from the chair and made his way to Kozik's room. figuring Tara could use all the help she could get.

Kozik was still foggy as he took his seat at a tense table. There was plenty of anger stemming from his brothers drugging him and putting him to sleep, but that could be dealt with later. When Tara and Opie and Gemma had woken him with a series of slaps to the face, he had been incredibly fired up and full of rage; rage that had shifted the second Opie mentioned that they had heard from the Russians. They would be calling any minute, and every second that they waited was a second too long, in Kozik's opinion.

Opie and Kozik and Piney were silent, each of them struggling under the weight of their current situation, each lost in thought, well aware of the consequences of failure. The door cracked open, the noise momentarily pulling them from their thoughts as Chibs came into the room, shutting the door behind them. He sank into his usual chair along the side of the table. Even as acting VP of the Club, he had never felt comfortable taking the chair that rightfully belonged to Jax.

"What's the word from the Irish?" Opie questioned as he sat down.

"They are willing to help us," Chibs reportedly, which was met with a sigh of relief. "We can offer the Russians a stake in guns. They are willing to up our numbers and give the Russians some hardware below cost to keep or sell or do what they will. We will have to eat the overhead, but at only 2%, it won't hurt us, especially considering the extra money we are already making off the new deal Clay made with them over in Belfast."

"They are giving us the extra guns, for us to give to the Russians?" Kozik asked.

"Aye," Chibs confirmed. "The deal will be good for a year. It should be enough to pay off our debt to the Russians, and it opens up a new client for the IRA. It's essentially a win for everybody."

"As long as it gets Tess home," Kozik muttered, before adding, almost as an afterthought, "And keeps the guys safe inside."

"It will," Opie assured the other man, before he turned to Chibs. "Anything else we should know before we make this deal?"

"Well," Chibs started reluctantly. "I suppose it might be worth noting that the Irish are insisting on coming over and finalizing the deal themselves."

"Jesus Christ," Opie swore, and even Kozik's mouth dropped open. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there, I guess. Let's just get this done."

Right on time, a knock sounded at the door, and then Gemma's face appeared. "Phone call." was all she said.

Opie nodded and then took the phone she handed over. Once the door was shut, he set it in the center of the table and pressed the speaker button. Making contact with every man around the table, he spoke clearly. "This is Opie, who am I speaking too?"

"Opie, like the boy from the TV show," an old voice spoke up in heavily accented English. "I always liked that show."

"Yeah," Opie replied. "I didn't. Who is this?"

The man laughed. "I can understand that. This is Anton Nebekov. I think we have business to attend to, Opie. Tell me, are you the man who can make decisions for SAMCRO? I understood that most of the…how do you say….big wigs were in jail."

"Not all of us," Opie told him, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. "There are enough of us here to make any decisions that need to be made. And we definitely do have things to discuss. You have somebody that belongs to us."

"Ah, yes, we do," Nebekov agreed. "It is unfortunate business, but I am not wrong in saying that you also have something that belongs to us. Two million somethings, if I am correct. You and your crew made a deal with my dear friend Viktor, and it ended up going not well for him. It was very wrong of you boys to make a deal you never intended to follow through on. We had to make that right."

Opie's jaw tightened, and he laid a hand on Kozik, who looked ready to jump out of his skin. "So instead of contacting us about how to settle that debt, you kidnapped out shopgirl and tried to stab our VP. Wouldn't a phone call have been easier?"

The old man let out a barking laugh, and Opie could hear other voices laughing as well. Of course they were on speaker as well. "We had to make sure we had your attention."

"Well you do," Opie told him. "So let's talk. First of all, you should toss that 2 million number of yours aside. We know exactly how much money O'Phalen gave you already," Opie lied. "You should know right now that we aren't going to give you any money. I think we can agree that the blood of our VP makes up for a good portion of that money anyway. We can give you what you really want, though. Make a deal that will benefit both of us."

"And how do you know what we want?" Nebekov asked, his voice full if indulgent malice.

"Because I'm smart," Opie replied. "We can offer you guns, which is what you really wanted from Jimmy anyway."

The Russians were quiet for a moment, and the chapel was quiet. They had clearly hit on something intriguing for the Russians. "Go on. Make your offer."

Opie nodded at Chibs, who began to explain. "We can get you a monthly shipment. KG-9's, MAC-10, AKM's and the like, at below cost. The pipelne comes straight from Ireland. A shipment of guns, every month, at less than half of what you would pay other places. That's what we have to offer you."

"IRA?" Nebekov questioned.

"That's right," Opie replied.

"Why do we need to deal with you at all?" Nebekov asked.

"Because we are their dealers," Chibs answered confidently. "If you want IRA guns, you get them from us. If this deal works out, in a year or so, when our Club is whole again and you have proven yourselves trustworthy, the Irish are willing to work out a different distribution deal."

"That sounds….reasonable," Nebekov answered after a tense, quiet moment. "Imagine, we can put this nasty business behind us. SAMCRO and us Russians boys business partners. And all of your boys are okay with this?"

They all sat around the table, silently brooding. The speaker phone prevented open conversation, but it wasn't hard to tell when any of them were thinking. None of them wanted a deal with the Russians. After what they had done to Jax, and what they were still doing to Tess, they wanted the Russians dead and buried, not involved in their gun business.

The problem was, none of them could see another way. They didn't have the millions the Russians were demanding, that much was for certain. They shouldn't be making this deal. Ordinarily, after everything they had done, the Russians would pay with blood, but even if they could convince other charters that war with the Russians was in their best interest, most of their SAMCRO brothers were on the inside, unprotected. None of them was willing to risk injury to another brother, not even for Tess.

They had literally only one bargaining chip, and they had cashed that in. The Irish were really going out on a limb here with this deal and placing a HUGE amount of trust in SAMCRO. Everybody at the table knew that they could make it work, but everybody at the table could also see Kozik's rage building. He wanted blood, and they all knew it, and not a damned one of them blamed him.

Opie stared at the blonde man, his eyes demanding to be met. When Kozik obliged, Opie silently mouthed, "Can you handle this?"

Kozik looked as if he was thinking about it carefully, but it only took him a few seconds to nod. As long as Tess was returned unharmed, safe and sound, he could handle just about anything, at least for awhile. And if Kozik could handle it, they could all handle it.

"So what do you say, boys?" the Russian voice came from the speaker, sounding too confident and cocky for any of their tastes. "Do we have a deal?"

Silently, Opie looked at each of them. Chibs nodded first, then Piney. Though the Prospects were here, they didn't get a vote, but they looked determined anyway. Kozik was the last one to nod, but once he did, it was official.

"Yeah, we've got a deal," Opie told them. "We will set it all up."

"The Irish will want to come themselves, so you will need to be prepared for that," Chibs said gruffly.

"We will be more than accommodating to our green blooded friends," the other man said. "I am happy that we are in business, boys. We can arrange a trade for the girl as soon as you have something to bring us."

"I want to talk to her," Kozik blurted out, taking them all by surprise. "Let us talk to Tess."

"I am not sure that's such a good idea, boy," the Russian man said, offended that they were placing demands on him, in his moment of shining glory.

"Let us talk to her, or the deal is off," Kozik demanded, ignoring the confused glares of his brothers. He knew that he didn't have the power to make that demand, but the Russians didn't know that.

"Fine," a different voice replied, and Kozik knew it was Lex. His blood boiled. "Bring the bitch to me. Just so you know, she may not be in the mood to talk."

Kozik didn't have time to wonder what he meant by that, because he could hear rustling sounds, and then a tiny, broken voice filled the air.

"Hello?" Tess asked, sounding almost terrified that this was a cruel joke.

"Tess!" Kozik picked up the phone and held it to his ear, switching off speaker. "Tess it's me. It's Kozik."

"Kozik," she repeated, sounding dazed and far away. "It's you."

"Yeah, it's me," he agreed, relieved to hear her voice, but weary of its tone. "Are you okay?"

She didn't reply, and it took him a moment to hear, but she was crying. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry Kozik. I should have listened to you. I should have known better, and now everything is ruined. I am so, so sorry."

"Tess, what are you saying?" he asked, shocked. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You are coming home, and you are going to be just fine." This only made her cry harder. "Tess, did he hurt you?"

"I have to go, Kozik," she whispered, studiously avoiding his question. "They want the phone back. I have to go."

"Tess," he said desperate. "I will see you soon. I promise."

He couldn't be sure that she heard her, because Lex was back on the line.

"Promises, promises," he sighed. "Those can be hard to keep."

"You son of a bitch," Kozik growled. "If you hurt her, I swear to God-"

"Don't make another promise that you can't keep," Lex cut him off. "We will meet you tonight, 8:00, at my old place. Bring us at least a partial shipment of guns. We will bring you the girl. Do we have an agreement?"

"Fine," Kozik seethed. "We will be there.""Good," Lex replied, before adding one last taunt. "Oh, and if you are feeling kind, I would bring our dear Tess a change of clothes. Hers haven't really….held up well. We will see you at 8."