Should I tell Tank?
Should I let him in, let him help, let him be what I'm terrified to need?
Or should I handle this alone the way I always have—protecting everyone by keeping them at arm's length, even if it means drowning in fear?
I don't know.
I don't fucking know.
But tomorrow I'll have to decide.
Because Declan's found me.And doing nothing isn't an option anymore.
The only question is whether I'm brave enough to ask for help.
Or foolish enough to believe someone would actually want to give it.
9
TANK
The sun starts to rise over a dull, wet Dublin, and I’m back outside her building on my bike.
I should be at the clubhouse, crashed out after a shower and a few hours of broken sleep.Instead, I’m here.Again.Watching the windows.Making sure no one comes near her.Making sure she’s safe.
My arse is numb, fingers stiff from the cold even inside my gloves.I don’t care.
The light in her flat went off around midnight.It came back on briefly around two.She probably couldn’t sleep.Now, as the sky lightens, I catch movement behind the curtains.She’s awake.
I should leave.I should go back to the clubhouse and stop acting like some fucking creep who can’t take a hint.
But I can’t shake what I saw yesterday.The way her face went white when she read that message.The terror in her eyes.The way her hands shook.
Someone threatened her.And whoever it was, they're close enough to watch her.Close enough to scare her.
Close enough to hurt her.
Not on my fucking watch.
I start the bike finally and pull away from the curb before she looks out the window and sees me.The last thing she needs is to think I'm part of the problem.Part of whatever's making her scared.
The ride back to the clubhouse is cold and miserable.My body aches from sitting still for hours, and my head's pounding from lack of sleep.But my mind won't shut off.It just keeps replaying yesterday; the pub, the way she looked at her phone, the way she left looking like she was being hunted.
By the time I pull into the clubhouse, the sun's fully up and a few brothers are already moving around.I park my bike, head inside, and make straight for the coffee.
Rush is at the bar, looking annoyingly awake for this early.He takes one look at me and raises an eyebrow.
"Christ, Tank.You look like shit."
"Thanks."
"Where've you been?Your bed hasn't been slept in."
"Out."
"Out where?"
I pour coffee, take a long drink.It's barely lukewarm but I don't care."Personal business."
