Page 7 of Tank

Gotta get out. Can't trust anyone. They're coming for me. I know it. Gotta stay ahead of them. Keep running.

I stumble to my feet, vision tunneling. The world tilts dangerously. I lurch forward, knocking into a wooden chair. It clatters to the floor, the sound deafening in the silence. Shit! They definitely heard that.

Heart racing, I limp towards the door, each step sending shockwaves of agony through my battered frame. Almost there. Just a little further.

I reach for the doorknob, hope blooming in my chest. Freedom. I'm so close. I can practically taste it.

Murmuring voices grow louder, footsteps drawing near. No no no! I twist the knob desperately, praying it's not locked. Please please please...

The door flies open, sending me stumbling back. I hit the ground hard, pain exploding through my body. This is it. They found me. It's over.

"Whoa there, little one," a deep voice rumbles.

I flinch, curling into myself, bracing for the inevitable blow. But it doesn't come. Slowly, I lift my gaze, taking in the towering figure before me.

He's massive, all broad shoulders and rippling muscles, tattoos snaking up his arms. But it's his eyes that catch me off guard—a surprising gentleness amidst the rugged exterior.

"Easy now," he says, his voice a soothing rumble. "You're safe here. No one's gonna hurt you."

Safe? The word feels foreign, a cruel trick. How can I be safe? They'll always find me. Hunt me. Tear me apart piece by piece until there's nothing left.

But something in his tone, in the way he holds himself—protective, not threatening—stirs a flicker of hope in my chest. Could it be true? Could I really be...free?

"Name's Tank," he continues, crouching down to my level. "I'm with the Iron Reapers MC. You came tumbling into our clubhouse last night and I brought you back to my room to patch you up."

Tank. Iron Reapers. The words swirl in my head, fragments of a puzzle I can't quite piece together. Why would they help me? What do they want in return?

"I...I don't..." My voice cracks, throat raw and aching. "Why?"

"Because it was the right thing to do," Tank says simply, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "We protect our own, and sweetheart, the moment we found you, you became one of us."

One of them? Protect? The concepts are so alien, so far removed from the hell I've endured. I want to believe him, want to cling to the promise of safety, of belonging. But the scars run too deep, the wounds too fresh.

"I can't...I don't know..." Tears burn my eyes, my chest constricting. "They'll find me. They always do. I can't... I'm not..."

"Hey, hey, look at me." Tank's fingers brush my chin, gentle but insistent, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. "You're a survivor, you hear me? You're stronger than you know. And I promise you this—as long as you're with us, as long as you're under my protection, no one will ever lay a fucking hand on you again."

His words wash over me, a balm to my fractured soul. I search his eyes, desperately seeking any hint of deception, any sign that this is just another cruel game. But all I find is unwavering sincerity, a fierce protectiveness that steals my breath.

Could I dare to hope? Could I allow myself to believe, just for a moment, that I might have finally found sanctuary?

Tank reaches out, his palm open in invitation. "Let me help you, little one. Let me keep you safe."

And in that moment, staring up at this man who radiates strength and security, I make a decision. I place my trembling hand in his, letting him pull me to my feet, into his embrace.

A soft knock on the door draws our attention, and I instinctively tense, my heart racing. Tank's arm tightens around me, reassuring in its presence.

"It's just Doc," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "He's here to help."

The door opens, revealing a man with kind eyes and graying hair. He carries a medical bag, his movements measured and calm as he approaches.

"Sophie, this is Doc," Tank introduces, his hand never leaving the small of my back. "He's the club's doctor, and he's gonna take a look at you, make sure you're alright."

Doc offers me a gentle smile, his voice soothing as he speaks. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sophie. I'm here to help in any way I can."

He gestures to the bed, inviting me to sit. I hesitate, my gaze darting between him and Tank, uncertainty churning in my gut.

"It's okay," Tank assures me, guiding me forward. "Doc's one of us. You can trust him."

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