Page 27 of Tank

But the traffickers are ready for us. They lay down suppressing fire, forcing us to take cover. The van screeches away, kicking up gravel and dust in its wake.

"Fuck!" I slam my fist against the wall, the pain a distant echo compared to the anguish in my chest. "Sophie, tell me you have eyes on them."

Silence. Then, a soft, broken whisper. "They're gone, Tank. I... I lost them."

The weight of those words nearly brings me to my knees. We were so close. So fucking close to ending this nightmare.

But it's not over. Not by a long shot. We'll hunt those bastards down to the ends of the earth if that's what it takes. We'll bring our girls home.

And god help anyone who stands in our way.

Perdition is buzzing with activity as we gear up for the rescue mission. Men and women alike move about, strapping on guns, checking ammo, and strategizing. The smell of gasoline and adrenaline hangs heavy in the air, a potent reminder of what's at stake.

"Tank," Mason growls, tossing me an SIG Sauer. "You're with me. Dagger, you and the others take the west entrance. Sophie, you stick to the comms. Guide us in and keep us updated."

We nod in unison, our faces a mask of determination and righteous fury.

"We owe it to our girls," Mason says, his voice a low growl. "Let's bring them home."

We roar out on our bikes, the night air rushing past us like a siren's call. This is what we were born to do. To right the wrongs, to protect the innocent.

And tonight, we'll be damned if we don't deliver.

We breach the compound, gunfire erupting around us like fireworks on the Fourth of July. Weapons at the ready, we move through the maze- like corridors, following Sophie's directions like a beacon in the dark.

"Turn left!" she hisses into our earpieces. "Room 104! That's where they're being held!"

Our hearts pound in our chests as we kick down the door, death and vengeance personified. The look on the traffickers' faces as they realize their time is up is almost comical.

Almost.

"Don't you motherfu-" one of them starts, but my fist silences him for good.

The women cower in the corner, their eyes wide with fear and recognition. I can't blame them. We're not exactly the picture of angels in our leathers and tats.

"It's okay," I rasp, holstering my gun. "We're here to take you home."

And in that moment, as their faces light up with relief and gratitude, I know we'd move mountains to make good on that promise.

As we emerge with the rescued women, the adrenaline still pumping through our veins, we see the rest of our MC brothers waiting with their bikes revving. They greet us with nods of respect and approval, and we know that tonight, we've done something that matters. Tonight, we've made a difference.

Sophie, her face streaked with tears and grime, hugs each woman individually, whispering words of comfort and reassurance in their ears. In that moment, I see the toll it's taken on her, and my heart aches.

But she straightens up, wiping away her tears, and climbs onto the back of my bike. "Let's go home," she says, her voice strong despite the tremor in her voice.

And as we ride off into the night, the streets of our city a little bit safer, I can't help but think that this is what it's all about. The brotherhood. The camaraderie. And above all else, the knowledge that together, we've made the world just a little bit less dark.

As we hit the open road, the wind in our faces, I can't shake the feeling that this is just the beginning. That there are more monsters out

The static crackles in my ear, Sophie's voice trembling as she speaks. "I should've been there. I should've done something."

My heart clenches at the pain in her words. "No, little one. You did everything you could. This isn't on you."

But even as I say it, I know the guilt will eat at her. Just like it's tearing me apart from the inside out.

I turn to my brothers, their faces etched with the same rage and determination that courses through my veins. "We regroup at Perdition. Now."

They nod, mounting their bikes with a renewed sense of purpose. We'll lick our wounds, but we won't stop. Not until we've painted the streets red with the blood of those who dared to touch our family.

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