"Tank doesn't waste energy on hate," Rage says, slipping the phone back in his pocket. "But he's going to have questions. A lot of them."
I nod, forcing myself to breathe slowly despite the panic building in my chest. I've just gone from potential charity case to potential asset, or liability, depending on how the Savage Riders decide to play this, and I've seen how MCs deal with liabilities. Tommy made sure I understood exactly what happened to people who crossed the Iron Eagles.
There's a sharp knock at the door. Rage moves to answer it, positioning himself so his body blocks the entrance. I catch a glimpse of Tank's imposing figure in the hallway, his face set in hard lines.
"Inside," Rage says quietly. "Information you need to hear."
Tank steps into the room, his gaze immediately finding me on the bed, still clutching my robe closed. His eyes narrow as he takes in the scene.
"Talk," he says simply.
Rage closes the door and leans against it, arms crossed. "Her ex is Tommy Reeves. Iron Eagles."
Tank's expression doesn't change, but the temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees.
"Is that right," he says flatly.
I nod, fighting the urge to shrink back from his intense stare.
"And she says they're planning to hit the clubhouse tomorrow night," Rage continues. "During what they think will be Vincent's wake."
Now Tank's eyebrows raise slightly. He turns his full attention to me. "How do they know about the wake?"
"I don't know," I admit. "Tommy just said you'd all be celebrating Vincent's death, and they'd turn it into a funeral for the entire club."
"How many?" Tank asks.
"At least twenty that I've seen. But Tommy said more were coming from other chapters."
Tank and Rage exchange a loaded glance.
"She also says they've set up a forward position on the east side of town," Rage adds.
Tank's jaw tightens. "Address?"
I shake my head. "I don't know exactly. Tommy kept me at a motel on the west side. But I heard him mention Cherry Street."
"There's a foreclosed property on Cherry," Tank says to Rage. "Two-story with good sightlines to the road leading here."
Rage nods grimly. "Perfect sniper position."
The casual way they discuss tactical advantages makes my stomach twist. This is real. The war, the violence, all of it. These men live in a world where planning for ambushes and snipers is as routine as discussing the weather.
"Why are you telling us this?" Tank asks suddenly, his eyes boring into mine. "Your old man is Eagles. Why turn on them?"
I touch my bruised face unconsciously. "You've seen what he did to me."
"So, it's revenge," Tank states.
"No," I say firmly. "It's survival. The Eagles aren't just a club anymore. After Vincent died, something changed. Tommy changed. He wasn't just rough or controlling. He became cruel. Sadistic. He said owning me wasn't enough anymore. He needed to break me."
I let the robe slip just enough to reveal the boot print on my ribs again. "He did this while explaining what would happen if I ever tried to leave. Said he'd hunt me down and make this look like a love tap."
Tank's expression doesn't soften, but something changes in his eyes. "And you still ran."
"I had to," I say simply. "Next time he might have killed me. He was getting... worse. More unpredictable."
"When did you leave?" Tank presses.
