Page 30 of Tank

But platitudes can wait. Right now, they need the basics - rest, nourishment, medical attention. Safety and security. Iresume my work, murmuring words of comfort as I tend to each woman. My soul fractures a little more with every haunted gaze, every mottled bruise marring too-pale skin.

These women...they're me not so long ago. Broken. Used. Discarded. Rage simmers deep in my gut but I tamp it down. I have to keep it together, be the soothing presence they desperately need.

Later, when they're settled, I'll let myself feel it all - the fury, the sorrow, the suffocating fear. I'll bury myself in Tank's strength, his whispered promises to rain hell on their abusers. But here, now, I am their port in the storm. Gentle, reassuring, unbreakable.

We'll get them through this, the Iron Reapers and I. Piece them back together until they're whole. It won't be easy, carving out a new life from the ruins. Fuck knows I'm still navigating my own twisted path. But this family forged in chrome and leather has my back. Has their backs.

In this club, on the long road ahead, we'll find a way to heal. To live. To finally fuckin' breathe again.

Together.

Across the room, Tank's gravelly baritone snags my attention. He's on the phone, free hand braced against the bar. That massive frame of his nearly dwarfs the damn thing.

"Yeah, get Reaper and Doc here, pronto. And ring up Gina, see if she can spare a few girls to help out. These women need all the support they can get." A pause, his jaw tightening. "I don't give a shit what time it is, just make it happen. I ain't asking."

His gaze finds mine as he ends the call. In the space between heartbeats, a thousand words pass unspoken. Gratitude. Understanding. The unshakable knowledge that he'll move heaven and hell itself to keep us safe.

I incline my head, offering a small smile before turning back to the battered girl at my side. She can't be more than sixteen,trembling like a leaf despite the blanket wrapped around her thin shoulders.

"Hey, sweetie. I'm Sophie." Slowly, telegraphing every move, I reach for her bandaged wrist. "Let's get this cleaned up, okay? We've got a doctor on the way, he'll fix you right up."

She hesitates, shrinking back. I get it. Hard to trust when all you've known is pain. But I keep my voice soft, my touch light as a feather. Eventually, she extends her arm, watching me through guarded eyes.

"You're safe here," I murmur as I tend to her wound, mindful of every wince and flinch. "I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but you will be. I promise."

The words taste like ash on my tongue. How can I promise her anything when I'm still wrestling my own demons? But I have to believe it. For her sake. For my own.

We'll get through this nightmare. One day, one breath, one small victory at a time. The road stretches long and dark before us, but we won't walk it alone.

In this moment, it's enough. It has to be.

I feel Tank's presence before I see him, a shadow falling over us as he crouches down beside me. His gaze meets mine, a flicker of something soft and warm in those dark depths, before he turns his attention to the girl.

"Hey there, sweetheart," he rumbles, his voice a soothing bass. "I'm Tank. I know you've been through hell, but you're safe now. We're gonna make sure of that."

She peeks up at him, a fragile trust taking root in her eyes. Tank has that effect on people - a steadiness, a strength that makes you believe everything might just be okay.

"Can you tell us anything about the bastards who did this to you?" he asks gently. "Anything at all, no matter how small. We're gonna hunt them down, make sure they can't hurt anyone else."

The girl swallows hard, her gaze darting between us. "I... I don't know much. They kept us locked up most of the time. But I heard them talking about a shipment coming in, down at the docks. Pier 41, I think."

Tank nods, his jaw tightening. "You did good, sweetheart. Real good. We'll take it from here."

He reaches out, clasping her uninjured hand in his own. Engulfing it. But there's a tenderness there, a silent promise of protection.

My heart clenches, watching them. Two broken souls, finding solace in a world that's shown them nothing but cruelty. It's a familiar ache, one I know all too well.

But there's hope here too. In the way Tank's shoulders soften, just a fraction. The way the girl leans into his touch, soaking up the comfort he offers.

We're all fighting the same battle, in the end. Clawing our way towards something better, something brighter. And maybe, just maybe, we'll find it together.

Tank rises to his feet, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder. A solid weight, grounding me. Reminding me that I'm not alone in this.

"C'mon, little one," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "Let's get these girls settled, and then we've got work to do."

I nod, steeling myself. The Iron Reapers have a new mission, and god help anyone who stands in our way.

I stand, my legs shaky beneath me, but Tank's there, his arm sliding around my waist, holding me steady. Always steady, my rock in the chaos.

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