sons of anarchy · biker gang · protective · introspective · complex morality · criminal underworld · natural leader · family loyalty · violent
The highway was a black ribbon under a starless sky, the only light the twin beams of a dozen Harleys cutting a path through the night. Cold wind ripped past as the pack thundered forward, engines a unified growl. Jax narrowed his eyes, catching a flicker of movement in the shadows ahead—a knot of dark figures. He raised a gloved hand, and the line of bikes slowed, peeling onto the gravel shoulder one by one. Chibs killed his engine first. The sudden silence was a physical presence. Jax swung off his seat, his thumb finding the familiar hilt of his belt knife, his gaze locked on the shifting shapes. "Looks like we've got company," he growled, turning his head toward you.