CHAPTER | Two

The Wolves' Territory Tuesday, July 5th 16:43

DON'T LET THEM HEAR YOU SCREAM

"It was every man for himself."

THE ROOM WAS FULL OF anger and disapproval. Multiple voices could be heard as Scar sat with his arms crossed analysing every member that sat around the round, oak table. Across the room, Jax mimicked Scar. No emotion was clear on his face, he was clearly processing the whole situation that was laid out in front of him just moments ago. Scar was surprised to hear that The Wolves had been having the same problem as his club - thousands of dollars of ammunition had been stolen just last week, the clubs, for the first time in centuries, shared a common ground.

"Alright, quiet down and Blaze put your goddamn gun away!" Jax finally spoke silencing the room, "The solution is clear."

Every pair of eyes were on Jax, confusion swirling around in them. Scar merely kept a straight face, the clearer the solution, the faster he'd get home. "We locate the club, pick a date and time where all the members will be there and we simply turn the building into ash," Jax said emotionless. He was serious. Scar questioned his plan - it couldn't possibly be that easy. If it were, The Sons Of Satan would have done that a long time ago.

"Jax, it's not that simple," Vice replies as he rubs his forehead with his palms, "They're clever bastards, they don't have a specific place to meet. They relocate almost every week, as soon as we get a definite place - they would have packed their shit, they obviously have a smart prick with a tonne of cash as their ringleader."

Jax' eyes narrowed, Scar too had wished that the solution was as easy as a little TNT but life had a way of fucking up peoples lives. "So we keep our eye on them, keep them on our radar. We put extra defences up when we collect our shipments and make sure everyone has bulletproof vests. We may not be able to get rid of them, but we can work around the problem." AJ speaks, getting the attention of every man around the table.

"AJ's right, until we think of a better solution we need to keep our eyes open. We all have a club to protect and the best way to do that is pretending like everything is fine - act like we're clueless," Vice says, supporting his brother. The heads of the brothers in the spacious meeting room shook up and down in agreement, Scar, however, stayed quiet. He didn't want to 'keep his eyes open' and 'pretend everything was fine', he wanted to go home and their shitty plan was prolonging his stay. Scar could feel his anxiety rising along with his anger. He felt like the walls were closing in on him and all he could do was sit still and scream internally. He missed his small room back home, he missed the taste of the whiskey, he missed the smell of sex that lingered in the bar, he missed Malia.

"Then it's sorted, we will gather intel before approaching them. This weekend a team wil-"

"Jaxon Xander King!"

All the men in the room turned toward the door to see a middle-aged woman staring intently at Jax. With her hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes in anger.

"What did I tell you, you muchacho tonto!" she shouted with a Spanish accent, "What did I say was happening this weekend!" Jax' mouth opened and closed like a fish as the Latina stomped closer to him before grabbing his ear.

"Easy woman, what are you screaming about now!" Jax said in pain whilst softly placing his hand on her waist.

"I'm screaming about Lani you idiota! Her cumpleaños, Jaxon! Her party! This weekend," she screeched, letting go of his ear and waving her golden arms around. Jax spun in his chair so he was facing her, his thumbs caressing her sides as he held her. Scar stared at them - he didn't understand how Jax was so calm even though she was calling him every name under the sun. Scar didn't believe in love and affection, he had only ever felt pain, love was almost a fantasy to him.

"Oh come on, mama, I'm sorry!" Jax pleaded as Scar regained his thoughts.

"Jax, you know how important this is to me - to Lani," Jax' eyes visibly softened, the woman in front of him had brought him to his knees once again.

"Okay, Isabella, I promise - this weekend no work will be done," Jax swore. Scar's jaw clicked as he realised the plan was again, postponed, "Besides, now The Sons Of Satan and The Wolves are working together, we should have a party to celebrate!"

Scar was not happy. His temporary room was small, simple and plain, it made his claustrophobia scream out in his ears making them ring. His head was pounding and the lack of sunlight entering the room only made things worse. Scar had been right about the clubhouse, it was a 3 story building, only the floors were underground. In a sense, it was a smart thing to do - any unwanted visitors would think it was just a regular bar and a good place to eat some steak. Scar wasn't upset with the room, quite frankly he thought the room was perfect - for anyone that wasn't him.

Scar didn't want to 'make himself at home', he wanted to go home. His anxiety had been eating him alive all day and night, he couldn't remember the last time he breathed a good load of air - it was as if he was suffocating. His hands were shaky as they pulled at his black hair that reached his chin.

Scar had locked himself in his 'new' room hours ago, he'd told his brothers he was tired from the long journey in which they'd all responded with a round of goodnights. Scar thought about his brothers; they had no reason to ask why he was going to bed at 9 pm, and even if they did Scar knew they wouldn't. When living a life like Scar's, it was every man for himself - when you break it down. Scar had learnt that the hard way... a long time ago.

Scar couldn't ease his restless mind, no matter how much he tossed and turned. It seemed like everything was moving at 100mph and Scar just couldn't keep up. As he sat on the edge of his creaky single bed, his head in his hands, Scar breathed slowly trying to calm himself down. He wanted it all to stop, the dreams, the memories, the voices... He didn't want to be haunted anymore. Scar thought more heavily, trying to think of anything, something else! Something other than that... and that's when a pair of crystal blue eyes flooded his mind, stopping his distorted breathing altogether.

Why she had crossed his mind he didn't know but he was somewhat grateful she had. Just the memory of her, standing against the wall, her skin radiant, made Scar completely forget just about everything. Scar slowly fluttered his eyes shut trying to remember every detail of her, every curve, every flaw - he wanted to remember. He felt ridiculous. A 25-year-old man, getting hard over the thought of a woman he has never even met - how pathetic. Yet, Scar just couldn't stop himself and that scared him, that scared him more than every memory put together.

"Fuck!" Scar whispers, pulling at his hair and making his way into the bathroom attached to his tiny room, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Scar's hair just wasn't satisfying his urge to feel something. He was disappointed in himself, he was acting like a reckless teenager and the worst of it was he didn't even know how old she was! What if she were a minor? What if Scar was thinking these unholy thoughts about a teenager? Scar clawed at his wrists breaking the skin on them once again. He grunted and moaned out in pain. Scar felt good, it felt good when he felt something - even if that something was pain. Scar could feel the tears running down his face, he had officially lost it... again.

He feared this was going to happen but this time, Malia wasn't there to tell him everything was going to be okay. She wasn't there to hold him and stop him from pulling his hair out. Scar cried out silently, hoping no one could hear him. He was supposed to be strong, he was supposed to have no fears but Scar only feared himself. He feared that one day, his hair and his wrists wouldn't be enough. He feared that one day - he would demand to feel more.

Scar slid down the cold tiles on the bathroom wall, his fists clenched, his wrists bleeding and his eyes dripping like rain, cold and silent. Scar felt alone, he had no one. Nobody cared for his well being, no one except Malia. Scar's emotions were battling each other in his head and he couldn't get them to stop.

"Please..." Scar pleaded, "Please."

The tears just wouldn't stop, and neither would the pain that flooded Scar's being. Scar craved love, even though he didn't believe in any such thing, he craved the feeling of it. He wanted to know what it was like to risk everything for one person, he wanted to know what it felt like for Jax. What it felt like to have a beautiful woman on his arm, not because she was an object but because she was his woman. Scar knew, though, things like that never happened to people like him, every girl Scar had ever got remotely close to ran for the hills as soon as they saw the mess he was. As soon as they saw the many cut marks all over his body.

"Make it stop!" Scar screamed, "I can't do this... please."

Scar just wanted it to stop. He wanted it all to stop.