Page 3 of Tank

"Get it together, Sophie," I whisper harshly to myself, trying to catch my breath. Leaning against the damp brick wall, I let myself slide down until I'm sitting on the cold ground. This is the first moment of relative safety I've had since my escape began, and the fear that's been clawing at my chest threatens to overwhelm me.

I wrap my arms around my knees, my body trembling uncontrollably. My mind races with thoughts of Chloe, her terrified face etched into my memory. "I'll come back for you," I'd promised her, my voice barely audible over the chaos that surrounded us. How am I supposed to keep that promise now? How can I save her when I can barely save myself?

"Failure's not an option," I mutter, my voice choked by tears. "I won't leave her behind."

The enormity of what I've done – what I still need to do – crushes me like a vise, but I refuse to succumb to despair. I wipe the tears from my face, my resolve hardening. I'll find help, I'll find a way to free Chloe and the others, even if it kills me.

"Never going back," I hiss through clenched teeth, forcing myself to stand on shaky legs. The pain in my body is nothing compared to the agony of leaving them behind, but I can't letthat stop me. They're counting on me, and I won't let them down.

With one last glance at the fleeting sanctuary of the alcove, I step back into the shadows, my heart pounding in my chest. I may be running on fumes, but the fire in my soul burns brighter than ever. I will keep moving forward, for Chloe, for all the girls still trapped in that hellhole, and for myself.

"Watch out, you bastards," I growl under my breath as I vanish into the night. "I'm coming for you."

The moon's pale glow filters through the twisted branches overhead, casting eerie shadows on the cracked pavement beneath my feet. I stumble forward, every step a battle against the searing pain that shoots through my battered body.

"Fuck," I gasp, clutching a stitch in my side as I lean against a graffiti-covered wall for support. My breath comes in ragged gasps, hot and desperate in the cool night air. The fear of being caught by those monsters is a constant drumbeat in my head, pushing me to keep moving even when it feels like I'm about to collapse.

"Can't stop now, Sophie," I mutter to myself between gritted teeth. "You owe it to Chloe...and all the other girls."

With renewed determination, I peel myself from the wall and stagger onward, my heart pounding in my chest like a caged animal. Goddamn it, I need help. Real help. But who can I turn to? Who would even believe the horrors I've endured? Still, I have no choice but to try.

TWO

TANK

The smellof stale beer and cigarette smoke hits me as I step into Perdition. It’s just another night at Perdition, but something feels different. The weight of responsibility settles on my shoulders like a heavy cut.

I make my way to the bar, nodding at the familiar faces scattered around the room. Brothers, all of them, bound by the iron in our blood and the patches on our backs.

"Hey, Tank!" Dagger calls out from behind the bar, his gravelly voice cutting through the low hum of conversation. "Glad you're here, man. We got some shit to sort out."

I slide onto a barstool, my elbows resting on the scarred wood. "Lay it on me, brother. What's the situation?"

Dagger leans in, his eyes serious. "We got a couple of prospects causing trouble down at the docks. Stirring up shit with the locals. Gotta nip that in the bud before it blows back on the club."

I nod, my jaw clenching. "I'll handle it. Have 'em meet me here tomorrow morning. We'll straighten 'em out, Reaper style."

Dagger cracks a smile, his gold tooth glinting in the dim light. "That's what I like to hear, Tank. You're a born leader, man. The club's lucky to have you."

I shrug off the compliment, but a part of me swells with pride. This is my family, my purpose. I'll do whatever it takes to keep the Iron Reapers strong.

As the night wears on, Perdition fills up with more brothers, the air thick with camaraderie and whiskey-fueled laughter. I make my rounds, clapping backs and trading stories, the weight of leadership easing with each interaction.

At one point, I find myself at a table with Hawk. His cold eyes meet mine, a silent understanding passing between us. We've been through hell and back together, our loyalty forged in blood and bullets.

"You're doing good, Tank," Hawk says, his voice low and rough. "The club's in good hands with you at the helm."

I clink my glass against his, the amber liquid sloshing. "We're all in this together, Hawk. One family, one fight."

As the hours tick by and the bottles empty, I can't shake the feeling that something big is on the horizon. A storm brewing, ready to test the mettle of the Iron Reapers.

But whatever comes our way, I know we'll face it head-on, engines roaring and colors flying. Because that's what brothers do. That's the Reaper way.

The door slams open, the sound cutting through the rumble of conversation like a gunshot. I spin around, instincts on high alert, as a woman stumbles into Perdition.

She's a mess, blonde hair tangled and matted, clothes torn and dirty. But it's the wild, desperate look in her eyes that sends a chill down my spine. This isn't just some drunk party girl who wandered in off the streets.

"Help me," she gasps, her voice raw and strained. "Please..."

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