Page 39 of Tank

I squeeze back, drawing strength from his touch. "I know you do, Tank. I trust you." And I do, with every fiber of my being. He's my rock, my protector, my...everything.

The thought startles me, the depth of my feelings for him. But there's no time to dwell on it now. We have a job to do.

As if sensing my thoughts, Tank releases my hand and steps back. "Let's get this done." He turns to the others, his voice a commanding growl. "Mount up, boys. It's time to end this shit."

Engines roar to life, a thunderous chorus that sends adrenaline surging through my veins. This is it. No turning back now.

I follow Tank outside, the night air cool against my flushed skin. The darkness presses in, sinister and alive, but I refuse to let it intimidate me. Not anymore.

I take my position, exposed and vulnerable, every nerve humming with tension. My heart pounds a frantic rhythm against my ribs as I scan the shadows, waiting for the devil himself to emerge.

The rumble of approaching vehicles shatters the stillness. Headlights pierce the gloom, harsh and blinding. This is it. The trap is set, the bait in place.

I am no longer a victim, cowering in fear. I am a survivor, a fighter, standing tall in the face of my demons.

And with my brothers at my back, I know I will triumph. Santiago picked the wrong girl to fuck with, the wrong family to cross.

Tonight, we teach him the true meaning of hell. And I'll be the one to send him there.

The vehicles screech to a halt, kicking up clouds of dust and gravel. Doors slam open, and Santiago's men spill out, their faces twisted with malice. They fan out, weapons drawn, a pack of rabid dogs eager for blood.

But they have no idea what awaits them in the shadows.

Santiago steps forward, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement as he takes in my seemingly defenseless form. "Well, well, well," he drawls, his voice dripping with venom. "Look what we have here. The Iron Reapers' little whore, all alone and ripe for the taking."

Rage boils in my veins, but I force myself to remain still, to play the part of the terrified damsel. Let him underestimate me. Let him think he's already won.

He stalks closer, his men forming a loose circle around us. The air crackles with tension, the calm before the storm.

"You didn't really think you could escape me, did you, Sophie?" Santiago taunts, his hand drifting to the gun at his hip. "You belong to me. And now, I'm going to make you watch as I destroy everything you hold dear."

A wicked smile curves his lips. "Starting with your precious Tank."

Fucking bastard. I clench my fists, fighting the urge to lunge at him, to claw the smirk from his face.

But I don't have to. Because in that moment, all hell breaks loose.

The roar of engines splits the night, the Iron Reapers emerging from the darkness like avenging angels. Gunfire erupts, bullets ripping through the air in a hail of destruction.

Chaos reigns as the two sides clash, a brutal symphony of violence and rage. Santiago's men scatter, diving for cover, but the Iron Reapers are relentless.

I catch a glimpse of Tank, a warrior god in the midst of the fray. His eyes blaze with unleashed fury as he cuts a path through the enemy, his fists and bullets finding their mark with devastating precision.

Mason and Dagger are right beside him, their faces contorted with grim determination as they take down Santiago's men one by one.

The ground beneath my feet trembles with the impact of each blow, the coppery scent of blood mingling with the acrid tang of gunpowder.

I search for Santiago in the chaos, my heart pounding a thunderous beat. This ends tonight, one way or another.

And then I see him, his face twisted with rage as he levels his gun at Tank's back.

"No!" The scream tears from my throat, raw and desperate.

But it's too late. The bullet flies, a deadly whisper in the night.

My heart stops as I watch the scene unfold, everything moving in slow motion. Tank turns, his eyes locking with Santiago's across the battlefield. The determination in his gaze is palpable, a force of nature that cannot be denied.

Tank charges forward, a raw, primal power emanating from every fiber of his being. His movements are fluid, purposeful, each step bringing him closer to his target. The world narrows down to this moment, to the inevitable collision between two titans.

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