Page 23 of Tank

"Alright then. Enough of this mushy shit." The gruffness returns, but I hear the undercurrent of warmth. "Let's gear up and go kick some trafficking scum ass. What do you say?"

Rising on unsteady legs, I square my shoulders. Meet his eyes dead on. "I say let's burn it all down."

His answering grin is feral, dangerous. "That's my girl."

My heart pounds as I follow Tank out to the main room of Perdition. The energy has shifted, charged with a restless sort of anticipation. Everywhere I look, people are moving with purpose - checking weapons, studying maps, trading information in low, urgent tones.

I spot Carlie and Jenny across the room, already dressed in tactical gear. They look up as I approach, something fierce and proud in their expressions.

"You ready for this?" Carlie asks, pressing a Glock into my hands. The weight is familiar now, almost comforting.

I check the magazine, chamber a round. "Born ready." It comes out steadier than I feel.

Jenny grins, feral and bright. "Atta girl. Let's show these fuckers what happens when they mess with our family."

Family. The word wraps around my heart, warm and vital. These people - this *club* - they've given me something I never thought I'd have again. Something to fight for. Something to *live* for.

I think of the girls still out there. Trapped. Terrified. Dreaming of a rescue that might never come.

Not on my fucking watch.

Tank appears at my side, handing me a kevlar vest. His fingers brush mine, sending a jolt of electricity up my spine. Our eyes lock, and for a moment the rest of the world falls away.

In his gaze I see everything we haven't said. Everything we *can't* say. Not yet.

"Stay close to me," he rumbles, low enough for only me to hear. "I'll keep you safe."

I slip the vest over my head, cinching the straps tight. "I know you will."

Because he always has. From the first moment he pulled me out of that hellhole, broken and bleeding, he's been my shield. My anchor in the storm.

The man I'm slowly, inexorably falling for. God help me.

"Alright, listen up!" Tank's voice booms out, commanding instant attention. "We've got a solid lead on a warehouse downtown. Intel says it's a major distribution hub for the trafficking ring."

Adrenaline surges through my veins, hot and wild. This is it. Our chance to strike a real blow against the monsters who stole my life. Who shattered my dreams and left me for dead.

They have no fucking idea what's coming for them.

Tank's gaze sweeps the room, hard and unflinching. "This ends tonight," he growls. "One way or another, we're burning this sickness out of our town. And God help any bastard who gets in our way."

A roar of agreement rises from the assembled bikers, primal and defiant. My own voice joins the chorus, buoyed by a strange, savage joy.

We ride out into the dying light, a phalanx of chrome and fury. I cling to Tank as his Harley eats up the road, the wind whipping my hair into a golden banner.

Hold on, I tell the lost, the taken. The forgotten. We're coming.

And hell's coming with us.

Tank kills the engine outside the warehouse, the sudden silence almost jarring. I slide off the bike, my heart a jackhammer in my chest. This is it. The point of no return.

He turns to face me, his expression unreadable beneath the visor of his helmet. "Sophie..." There's a whole world of conflict in the way he says my name. "You don't have to do this. It's gonna be dangerous as hell in there."

Anger flares up my spine, hot and bright. "Don't you dare try to sideline me," I hiss. "Not now. Not after everything."

"Goddammit, woman!" He rips off his helmet, frustration etched into every line of his face. "I'm trying to keep you safe! If something happened to you, I'd never fucking forgive myself."

"And what about the others?" I counter, jabbing a finger toward the looming warehouse. "The ones still trapped in that nightmare? You expect me to just sit on my hands while you ride to the rescue?"

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