Chapter Forty-Six
Bianca
The look on the doctor’s face rips something out of Ricky’s mouth, out of his chest, out of his heart, and his scream echoes through the emergency ward like a siren going off in my soul. I freeze—my body cold, breath caught in my throat. But before I can move, I see Tank step away from me and rush toward Ricky.
He doesn’t hesitate.
He drops to his knees and throws his arms around Ricky in a tight, brutal hug, pulling the sobbing man against his chest like a wounded brother.
“Ricky, you are not alone,” Tank murmurs, again and again, like a mantra. “Do you hear me? You are not alone. You have me. We’re brothers.”
I blink through my own tears, stunned — not just at the raw grief pouring out of Ricky, but at the way Tank holds him. With no fear of the emotion. No shame. Just this unbreakable, fierce tenderness. My throat tightens.
Tank’s not just a killer. Not just a soldier or a biker or a bruised man with dark tattoos and buried truths.
He’s got a heart big enough to carry someone else’s pain.
I move to them, drop to my knees beside Tank, and lay my hand on Ricky’s back. He’s shaking violently, clutching Tank like a drowning man. I whisper that I’m here, too. That we both are.
Then I notice movement near the doors.
Diesel, Havoc, and Mayhem — Tank’s MC brothers — have arrived. They’re standing there in the middle of the hallway, looking grim and out of place under the fluorescent lights. I rise and walk to them, my limbs shaky, my heart breaking all over again.
“What happened?” Havoc asks.
My voice is raw when I answer. “Vanessa. She didn’t make it. Tank made Ricky a prospect. He… Tank told him he’s family.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, they’re already moving.
“Hey!” a nurse barks. “No running!”
“Our brother’s in pain,” Mayhem calls back. “Like hell we’re not running!”
They rush past me and descend like a protective wall around Tank and Ricky — patting Ricky’s shoulders, murmuring low words of comfort, offering presence and warmth. A ring of grief and brotherhood. I feel like my chest is split open. I stagger back from the scene, toward the hallway entrance, trying to hold myself together.
My eyes blink through the tears and I see Alex stepping through the double doors, scanning the space until she finds me.
“Bianca?” Her voice undoes me.
I rush to her, throw my arms around her, and start crying again.
“It’s Vanessa,” I say, my voice breaking. “She’s gone. She’s really gone.”
Alex hugs me tightly, rubbing my back. “Oh, no, B…”
I want to stay in her arms forever, but then I feel something else — another hand, big and warm, settle gently on my back. I turn and see Tank standing there, glassy-eyed. His mouth is tight, his expression strained with everything he hasn’t said.
But it’s his voice that gets me. Rough, trembling. Human.
“There’s been too much dying tonight,” Tank says. “And I know I said we’d talk later, but I can’t wait any longer.” He looks at me, eyes dark and raw and wide open. “You’re too important. We need to talk. Now.”
I stare at him for a heartbeat, and then I nod. Because I need answers. Because I need him.
Because I still love him.
Alex squeezes my arm in silent support as I step away from her and take Tank’s hand.
It’s warm. Solid. Familiar.
He smiles at me. It’s wan, pained, but still, him.
“Let’s go talk.”