The King Is Dead

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Clara Morrow was the only living child to the President of the Sons of Anarchy located in Modesto California and his current location was the big house. He and a few of his boys were caught smuggling guns and ended up doing some pretty hard time.

Seems like the law hadn't had a big enough payoff this time -- shame really.

That's why Clara Morrow currently found herself in the middle of the SOA club house parking lot in Charming. She had phoned her aunt Gemma about two hours ago telling her that she needed a place now that her daddy was up in the Pen for the next - at least - 15 years of his life.

So much for setting the recorder straight this time round.

Clara was left with her daddy's bike since he was put up -- and boy was it a nice one. A 1993 slick black Harley Davidson with a back mount for the person riding bitch. She remembered the first time she ever road it -- she was four years old and she remembered the feeling she had going up and down the countryside on the back, her feet weren't even long enough to reach the bottom so she had to wrap them around her daddy's waist to hang on.

A small smile came to her lips as she remembered -- but it quickly faded.

She sighed deeply, knowing that the Brothers were all inside, their bikes parked outside told her that. She rolled her neck and kicked one leg over the bike and hung her helmet over the handlebars.

"Better now than never." she muttered to herself.

Walking across the parking lot she made her way to the door of the building and couldn't help but feel slightly nervous. It had been well over a good six years since she had seen everyone -- she was twenty-three as of this year.

Pressing her lips together she blew out the air from her lungs and turned the nob of the door before walking inside. Her large steel-toed boots sounded on the floor as she walked through the front door and what voices she had heard buzzing about inside had all hushed when they seen her standing there dressed in leather and black.

Her open long sleeve HD jacket hung open and exposed her Ozzy shirt, along with the Reaper necklace that her father had given her that hung around her neck. She looked at everyone and they all seemed to look back at her. Her hands were stuffed in her jacket pocket as her eyes slowly slid over everyone in the room.

A man that had longer hair and shades on the top of his head was sitting on a couch looking at her rather shocked. A young red head boy -- or was he blonde, she couldn't really tell -- was looking at her as if he seen a ghost, he was standing by a pool table. Another man stood there with him, he had dark and short curly hair.

Then there was an older man who was using an oxygen tank was sitting at a table next to a slightly younger looking man whom she recognized right away.

"I'm guessing Aunt Gemma didn't inform you I was coming?" she asked, shrugging her shoulders.

The man whom she recognized only broke out into a large smile and laughed loudly as he went to stand up and approached her, holding open his arms for a hug, which she gave him.

"It's good to see you again, Doc."

"Just wish it was on better terms, Uncle Clay."

Clay pulled away from her and looked her over, not as happy looking as he was prior to the hug. She was right, it had been too long since he last seen her and she was only here now because of what happened with his brother down south. Clay sighed deeply and shook his head, his hands resting on her shoulder.

Chibs | This Life | Tig | Sons Of Anarchy || Book OneWhere stories live. Discover now