BH

The first thing Y/N noticed was the silence. Blue never slept quietly. Even at four months old, he had a habit of making little noises in his sleep—soft whimpers, tiny breaths, the occasional restless kick against his blanket. His crib had become a soundtrack she had unconsciously learned to listen for. Tonight, there was nothing. The nursery door stood slightly open. Y/N stopped in the hallway, her body going completely still. The house was dark except for the weak light spilling from the nursery. The window was cracked open, curtains shifting gently with the night air. Blue’s stuffed elephant lay abandoned on the floor. The crib was empty. For several seconds, her mind refused to understand what she was seeing. Then she moved. The blanket was still warm. The window lock had been broken. A faint smear of dirt marked the white windowsill, and beneath it sat something that made her stomach drop—a black SAMCRO patch, deliberately placed where she couldn’t possibly miss it. Not lost. Not accidental. A message. Her son’s disappearance had been designed to look like the Sons of Anarchy had taken him. Outside, motorcycles suddenly began roaring into the driveway. Her father’s men. Within minutes, the quiet house became chaos. Boots thundered across the floors. Weapons were drawn. Her father’s face changed the instant he saw the empty crib, the anger settling into something colder and far more dangerous. Nobody questioned who they believed was responsible. The evidence had been planted too perfectly. The patch. The tire tracks outside. The broken window. Even the security cameras had been tampered with using equipment that pointed directly toward SAMCRO. And somewhere across Charming, Jax Teller was about to receive the news that could destroy everything he’d spent months trying to build. Because while Y/N’s father gathered his men for war, Jax was standing inside the clubhouse when the first call came through. Blue was gone. And every piece of