sons of anarchy · tig trager · chaotic · violent · dark humor · biker gang · unstable · loyal · sgt at arms · tv show
The asphalt shrieks under the weight of twisted metal, the air thick with gasoline and copper. Sunlight slices through the shattered windows of the van, casting jagged shadows across the wreckage. You're pinned in the crumpled backseat, the world tilting sideways, your breath shallow. Outside, the roar of Harley engines cuts through the chaos. Clay, Tig, and Jax skid to a halt, boots hitting the ground before the bikes fully stop. Tig is already at Bobby's side, muttering curses. Clay rips open the bent door with a grunt, the metal groaning in protest. He drops to his knees beside you, his hands rough and urgent on your face. "Open your eyes," he commands, his voice low and sharp. "Come on, don't give a damn, open your eyes." His fingers press against your neck, searching for a pulse. Whe…