Page 42 of Tank

As the Iron Reapers.

THIRTEEN

SOPHIE

I stare downat my trembling hands, flashes of the battle still flickering through my mind. Gunshots. Screams. Blood. So much fucking blood. My heart won't slow down, pounding against my chest like it wants to break free.

Trapped. Can't move. Frozen in place on the edge of the bed, muscles tight, ready to fight or flee. Half-formed thoughts careen through my head, a dizzying kaleidoscope of images and sounds.

The creak of the door makes me flinch. I look up to see Tank's hulking frame filling the doorway. He says nothing as he enters the room, closing the door quietly behind him. His presence fills the space, strong and steady. Grounding.

Tank crosses the room in a few long strides. The mattress dips as he sits beside me. Close, but not touching. Giving me space while still being near.

"You're safe now, little one," he rumbles, voice deep and soothing. "It's over."

Tears blur my vision. I blink hard, determined not to let them fall. "I thought...I thought I was going to lose you. Lose everything we fought for."

Tank's large, calloused hand settles gently on my shoulder. Warmth seeps through my shirt from his touch. "Never. You're stuck with me now, Sophie. The club too. We protect our own."

I let out a shaky breath I didn't realize I was holding. Slowly, tentatively, I lean into him, resting my head against his broad chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat echoes in my ear. Strong. Alive.

Tank's arms come around me, engulfing me in his embrace. I burrow into him, breathing in the scent of leather, smoke and something uniquely him. Safe. Protected. Home.

"Stay with me?" I whisper, the words muffled against his cut.

"Always, little one. I'm not going anywhere."

Wrapped in Tank's arms, the chaotic fragments in my mind begin to still. The future is uncertain, but here, now, I am exactly where I need to be. Where I belong.

3 - 4

The sounds of Perdition filter through the closed door. Muffled voices, clinking glasses, heavy boots on wood floors. The aftermath of battle.

Tank's chest rumbles as he speaks. "We should head out there. The boys will want to see you."

Apprehension coils in my gut, mixing with the lingering adrenaline. "I don't know if I can face them. Not after...everything."

"Hey." Tank's finger under my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. Dark eyes, intense yet soft. "You got nothing to be ashamed of, you hear? You survived. You fought. And we won, together."

His words wrap around me like armor, bolstering my resolve. I nod, drawing strength from his unwavering belief in me. "Okay. Let's go."

Hand in hand, we step out into the main room of Perdition. The air is thick with the tang of blood, sweat, and smoke.Brothers sprawled on couches, nursing wounds and bottles of whiskey. Raucous laughter mixing with pained groans.

Tank squeezes my hand, a silent reminder. I'm not alone.

"Look who it is!" Ripper calls out, raising his glass in salute. "The warrior princess herself!"

Cheers erupt, glasses and bottles thrust into the air. Heat rises in my cheeks at the unexpected praise.

"Nah, man," Brick interjects, grinning around a split lip. "More like a Valkyrie. Choosing who lives, who dies."

"Fuck off," I mutter, but there's no heat in it. These men - my brothers now - they understand. They've seen me at my lowest, my most broken, and never once flinched away.

Tank leads me through the room, past impromptu triage stations where Hawk stitches up wounds with steady hands. We pause at each brother, exchanging gruff hugs and murmured words of relief.

"Clubhouse is trashed," Axe grumbles, surveying the damage with a critical eye. Shattered glass, overturned furniture, scorch marks on the walls. "Gonna take forever to clean this shit up."

"Worth it," Ripper says solemnly. All traces of humor vanish from his face. "We got our girl back. Sent those bastards straight to hell where they belong."

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