Page 37 of Tank

Santiago wants a war? I'll give him a fuckin' war. I'll paint the streets red with his blood. Burn his empire to ash.

Because nobody threatens what's mine. Nobody.

I tuck my Glock into my waistband, reaching for Sophie's hand. Our eyes lock, volumes passing between us. Fear. Love. Resolve.

"Let's go," I say grimly. "Time to end this."

We pull up to Perdition, the air thick with tension. Brothers mill around, checking weapons, trading intel. The stench of gasoline and gunpowder.

I help Sophie out of the van, keeping her tucked close. Her eyes are wide, but her jaw's set. Brave as hell, my girl.

Prez strides over, his face lined with strain. "Tank. You heard?"

I nod tightly. "Santiago's crew hit Ripper's old lady. She's critical."

"Fuck," Prez growls. "This ends now. We're riding out."

My gut clenches. I glance at Sophie, torn. I can't leave her unprotected. Can't risk losing her.

"Prez," I start, but he cuts me off with a look.

"I know, brother. That's why Gator's staying behind. He'll keep your girl safe."

Relief crashes through me. Gator's a fuckin' tank. Lethal with a blade.

I turn to Sophie, cupping her face. "I gotta do this, baby. Gotta keep you safe."

Tears shimmer in her eyes, but she nods. "I know. Just...come back to me. Please."

I crush my mouth to hers, pouring everything I feel into the kiss. The fear, the love, the bone-deep need.

"Always," I rasp against her lips. "I'll always come back to you."

Tearing myself away feels like ripping off a limb. But I force myself to let go. To focus on the fight ahead.

I swing onto my bike, the rumble of the engine echoing the rage in my blood. Santiago's gonna pay. For every bruise, every scar he left on my woman's skin.

I'll carve his heart out with my bare fuckin' hands.

Prez raises a fist, his voice booming across the lot. "Reapers! Let's ride!"

And we roar off into the night, a pack of wolves hungry for blood. Sophie's face burns behind my eyes, fueling my resolve.

I'll paint this city red for her. Burn it all down to keep her safe.

Because she's mine. My heart, my soul.

My fuckin' everything.

The night air whips past as we tear down the highway, a convoy of steel and fury. My mind races, strategies forming and reforming like puzzle pieces.

We need intel. Need to know what we're up against. How deep this shit goes.

I signal to Prez, pulling up alongside him. "We gotta tap our contacts," I shout over the wind. "See what the word is on the street."

He nods, jaw tight. "Already on it. Sent word to Whiskey and Jax. They're shaking the trees."

Good men. Loyal. They'll find the rats and flush 'em out.

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