Page 11 of Tank

"Damn straight. Sophie's with us now." He sobers, voice rough. "We'll keep her safe, brother. Ride or fuckin' die."

Emotion clogs my throat. I pull him into a rough embrace, slapping his back. "Knew I could count on you, man. Always."

"No place I'd rather be." He steps back, jerking his chin toward the door. "Now let's go hunt down some soon-to-be-dead sumbitches."

"Hooah," I mutter, falling back on old habits. Dagger just grins, feral and fierce.

We move out, the club a well-oiled machine of deadly purpose. I catch Mason's eye across the chaos, a thousand words in a glance. He nods, solemn as a blood pact.

The message is clear: protect our own. Protect Sophie.

And god fuckin' help anyone who tries to stop us.

"You'll get 'em," Mason assures me, clapping my shoulder. "We've got this, brother. Sophie's family now."

The words settle something in me, a knot of tension unraveling in my chest. I know what it means, the weight of that promise. The club will move heaven and hell to keep her safe, and god help anyone who tries to stop us.

We all know what's at stake. We've all seen the scars, physical and emotional, that Sophie carries. And we all know, with a bone-deep certainty, that we'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe.

I turn to Mason and Dagger, my brothers through hell and back. The weight of this goddamn mess settles on my shoulders, but I know these men got my back, no matter what.

Mason's eyes meet mine, that intense gaze cutting through the bullshit. "We'll keep her safe, brother. Ain't no fuckers gonna touch her, not on our watch."

I nod, jaw clenched tight. "Gonna need eyes on her 24/7. Trust no one outside the club. These bastards, they're connected. Powerful."

Dagger leans against the wall, arms crossed over his cut. "We got prospects eager to prove themselves. Put 'em on rotation, always someone close by." He flashes a wicked grin. "And if any shitbags come sniffing around, we'll introduce 'em to our brand of hospitality."

A dark chuckle rumbles in my chest. Dagger's good for that - cracking wise even when the world's gone to hell. But beneath the swagger, I know he's ready to bust skulls to keep our girl safe.

Mason's hand clamps on my shoulder, his grip strong as iron. "Sophie's family now. We'll burn the whole fuckin' world down 'fore we let anyone hurt her again." His voice is low, lethal. The vow of a man who'd walk through fire for what's right.

I breathe deep, letting their loyalty wrap around me like armor. My mind whirs, planning, preparing for war. Those pieces of shit that tortured our girl better start praying. The Iron Reapers are coming for blood, and we won't stop 'til every last one of 'em is in the ground.

But first, I gotta check on my angel. Girl's been through hell and I'll be damned if I'm not there to hold her through the nightmares. My hands ache to touch her, to promise her she's safe, cherished.

I lock eyes with my brothers one last time. No words needed. We're ride or die, 'til the very end. Sophie's got an army at her back now. And God help anyone stupid enough to fuck with what's ours.

FIVE

SOPHIE

My eyelids flutter open,the remnants of a scream clinging to my dry throat. Darkness surrounds me, broken only by a thin sliver of dim light slipping through heavy curtains. I blink, trying to make sense of the shadows, my mind a jumbled mess of half-remembered horrors and searing pain.

Where the hell am I?

Panic grips me, and I try to sit up, but my body protests, muscles screaming in agony. A whimper escapes my lips as the events of the past few days come crashing back in vivid flashes. Running. Hiding. The sickening smell of sweat and blood. Cruel hands and vicious words.

Oh god. It wasn't just a nightmare.

A sudden movement catches my eye and my heart leaps into my throat. A massive figure looms in the corner, arms crossed over a broad chest. I shrink back instinctively, pressing myself into the mattress, ready to bolt.

But then the figure steps forward into the faint light and I see his face. Tank. The man who saved me from that hellhole. His presence fills the room, powerful and imposing, yet somehow reassuring.

He watches me, dark eyes glinting with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. But there's something else there too - concern, protectiveness. It's both intimidating and oddly comforting.

"You're safe now, little one," he rumbles, voice low and gravelly. "No one's gonna hurt you here. I won't let them."

His words wash over me, a soothing balm to my frayed nerves. I want to believe him, to trust in the strength that emanates from his very being. But fear still coils in my gut, a constant companion that won't be easily dismissed.

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