Page 31 of Tank
But a part of me is still reeling from the factory, from facing my father and choosing Tank over him. Marco’s gone, wheeled away with his broken dreams of the Fury’s comeback, and I said my goodbye.
It wasn’t easy—his cold eyes, his bitter words, calling me a traitor—but it’s done.
I’m done with him too, with his hate, with the chain he tried to tie me to.
But it’s Tank’s mercy, letting Marco live, that’s got me all messed up. I expected blood, expected him to end it, but he didn’t.
And it was all for me.
I catch Tank’s eye, and he breaks away from Arch and Kash, heading toward me. His walk is all power, like he owns the room, but there’s a softness in his face that’s just for me. He stops close, his hand brushing my arm, and the contact sends a shiver through me.
“You okay, kid?” Tank asks, his voice low, rough, like gravel under tires.
I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I just… I need to say something.” I take a breath, my hands clenching at my sides. “Me and my father—we’re done.For good. He wanted me to be his weapon, to kill you, but I couldn’t. And you…” My voice cracks, and I hate how raw it sounds, but I push on. “You showed him mercy, Tank. After everything he did, everything I was supposed to do, you let him live. I don’t know how to thank you for that.”
Tank’s eyes soften, and he steps closer, his hand settling on my neck, warm and steady.
“Didn’t do it for him,” Tank says, his voice quiet but firm. “I did it for you. Killing him would’ve broken something in you, and I couldn’t let that happen. You make me a better man, Rocco. Never thought I’d say that to anyone, but it’s true.”
My Daddy’s words hit like a punch, stealing my breath.
I look up at him, those dark eyes holding mine, and I feel it—the truth of us, the way we’ve changed each other.
“You make me better too,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I came here to destroy you, but you… you showed me what it means to be loyal, to care. I was lost, Tank, but you found me.”
He pulls me in, his hand tightening on my neck, and our lips crash together.
It’s not like the kiss at his place, all hunger and desperation—this one’s deeper, slower, like we’re pouring everything into it. His tongue moves against mine, his beard scraping my skin, and I melt into him, my hands fisting in his kutte.
The world fades—the clubhouse, the Wolf Riders, the past—just him, his heat, his strength, anchoring me. I can taste whiskey and smoke, feel the thud of his heart under my hands, and it’s like I’m home.
A loud cough cuts through the haze, and we break apart, my face burning.
Clay’s standing a few feet away, his arms crossed, a rare grin cracking his weathered face.
“Get a room, you two,” Clay says, his gravelly voice laced with amusement. “But first, Rocco, it’s time to prove you’re a Wolf. You gotta walk the Paddle Path.”
I blink, still catching my breath, my lips tingling from Tank’s kiss. “The what?”
Tank chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that sends a thrill through me. “The Paddle Path, kid. It’s a Wolf Rider tradition. Every prospect’s gotta go through it to earn their place. You’ll see…”
I raise an eyebrow, trying to play it cool even though my stomach flips.
“What, some kind of hazing?” I smirk. “I’m not scared. Bring it on.”
Tank’s grin widens, but there’s a glint in his eyes, like he knows something I don’t.
“Oh, you say that now,” Tank laughs, now joined by Arch and Kash. “Wait till you see it.”
“Oh, we’re gonna paddle this cockysonofagun,” Kash roars, fist bumping Arch and shotting Tank a knowing look.
Clay claps a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm.
“You held your own against the Fury, kid,” Clay says. “You chose us over your blood. That’s a start. But the Paddle Path? That’s where you prove you’re one of us, body and soul.”
The whole gathering of Wolf Riders are watching now, their faces a mix of smirks and anticipation.
Keegan’s grinning like a kid at a carnival, and Dylan—Clay’s boy—has got that quiet intensity, like he’s sizing me up, seeing what I’m made of. Arch leans against the bar, giving me a nod that feels like respect.
