Russian Roulette

Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy.

One.

Everything can change in the blink of an eye.

It's all unfolding before Tara's horrified gaze, her knuckles popping white around the wood of her chair.

One. Cameron brings the kitchen knife to Abel's throat.

Two. She screams, and Kip lunges for him, twisting as the knife rakes his belly.

Three. Kip folds to the floor and her scream dies away. There is a ringing silence.

They freeze for a moment, three figures slumped three different ways. Kip closes his eyes, and they bloom like bruises in his chalk-white face. Tara crawls to him, heart banging painfully, and presses her bare hands to his wound. Cameron Hayes hitches sobs into the side of Abel's head, rocking back and forth.

The metallic bray of Cameron's mobile makes Tara jolt badly. Warm tears leak down her cheeks. She doesn't dare to look up until he's gone, Kip's heart fluttering under her palm.

Author's Note: I've got a good feeling about this one. 150 word limit is something I can pump out quickly, and I've got all sorts of awesome stuff in the works.

Concrit always appreciated.

Taluliaka.