Chapter 7
TANK
Tank didn’t sleep, not that he expected to, because sleep wasn’t something that came easy anymore—not after everything he had seen. Not after nights spent watching doors, memorizing exits, and waking up at the slightest sound like his life depended on it—because it did.
He sat in his truck with the engine off and the darkness pressing in around him like it always did.
The city had quieted some, but Yonkers never really slept.
Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, a car passed, and voices drifted and disappeared on the night air.
Everything felt normal—except for him, and for a second, he wondered if he’d ever feel that way again.
Maybe too much had happened to him, and he’d never get back to what he thought his life should look like.
Maybe normal wasn’t in the cards for him.
Tank dragged a hand down his face and stared out through the windshield, seeing nothing but the reflection of his own thoughts staring back at him.
You’re still thinking about that? Yeah, he was.
He shouldn’t be—but he was. Lillith consumed his thoughts, and that was dangerous, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the way she looked at him like she wasn’t afraid of him.
Or the way she pushed back when he tried to shut her out.
And the way she kissed him back like she didn’t care about the consequences.
“Jesus,” he muttered to himself. That kiss was where everything went sideways. He shouldn’t have touched her. Hell, he shouldn’t have let himself feel even a second of what he felt for her, because now it was in his head, and under his skin. And that was dangerous.
His phone buzzed again, and Tank stilled. Every instinct sharpened instantly as he reached for it slowly, his eyes scanning the darkness before dropping to the screen. It was an unknown number again. His jaw tightened as he carefully opened it.
You don’t get to disappear that easily.
Tank froze as he read the text aloud. It wasn’t her.
His grip on the phone tightened, and his body went completely still.
“Fuck,” he breathed. They found him too quickly this time.
His eyes flicked up from the phone screen, scanning the street again, noting that every shadow suddenly looked like a threat.
Every parked car suddenly seemed suspicious.
He should’ve kept moving. He knew better than to stay in one place for too long, but meeting Lillith threw a wrench in his plans.
It shouldn’t have. He should have stuck with his original plan to light a candle for his grandpa and head out of town.
But something about the raven-haired beauty had him wanting to stick around.
Hell, she made him want things that he hadn’t wanted for a damn long time.
His phone buzzed again. We’re closer than you think. Tank’s pulse kicked up hard, adrenaline flooding his system like a switch had flipped. There was no hesitation now, and no second-guessing his next move. He had learned to survive, and he needed to remember that.
He started the truck, the engine roaring to life beneath him as his eyes swept the area one more time. He saw nothing obvious, but that didn’t mean shit. The people who wanted him dead were smart, careful, and most of all—patient.
Tank threw the truck into drive and then stopped. His gaze dropped to the phone sitting in his hand. Lillith’s last message still sat there in the thread.
You too, Tank.
His jaw clenched. This was exactly why he stayed away, and exactly why he didn’t let people in.
Because the second he did, they got pulled into the shit that he was already neck deep in.
He worried that it might be too late to save her.
What if he had already pulled her into danger she didn’t even know existed?
If they were close, they might have seen him with Lillith at the diner.
Tank exhaled slowly, forcing his breathing to steady. Think—he needed to think. If they were here—if they were close—then staying anywhere near Yonkers wasn’t an option, not for him, and definitely not for her. His fingers moved befor.e he could stop them.
Stay inside tonight.
He hit send, but worried that it wasn’t going to be enough—not even close, but it was all he had. So, for now, it would have to do.
His phone buzzed almost immediately.
That sounds ominous.
Of course, she’d say that. He worried that she wouldn’t listen. Tank’s jaw tightened as he typed back.
Just trust me.
Three dots appeared on the screen and then disappeared just as quickly. He could tell that she was starting to worry, and that might end badly for them both.
Tank—what’s going on?
He closed his eyes for a second because if he answered her question and told her the truth, there would be no taking it back. He wouldn’t be able to pretend that this was anything but simple anymore.
His eyes opened again, sharp and focused—his decision was made.
I need you to stay with your sister. Don’t go anywhere alone.
He hit send.
This time, the pause was longer before she responded.
You’re scaring me.
He hated that he was doing that. They had only just met each other, and scaring her wasn’t on his list of things that he wanted to do to her. Tank swallowed, his grip tightening on the wheel.
“Good,” he muttered under his breath. “Be scared. Stay put,” he said to himself. Fear kept people alive. It kept them from making stupid decisions or from following guys like him into situations they couldn’t come back from.
His phone buzzed again.
Tank
Just his name, nothing else, and he stared at it far too long before finally typing back.
I’ll explain later.
That was probably a lie because “later” wasn’t something he could promise—not anymore, and not if they were already this close.
Tank tossed the phone onto the passenger seat and pulled out of the lot, his eyes scanning every direction as he merged onto the road.
He needed to move. He needed to get far enough away that whatever storm was coming didn’t hit her too.
He didn’t want his mess to touch her because she didn’t deserve that.
As the diner disappeared in his rearview mirror, Tank’s jaw tightened. “You should’ve left earlier,” he muttered to himself. But he hadn’t, and now it was too late to pretend this wasn’t about to get a hell of a lot worse.
Tank didn’t go far, and that was the first mistake. He knew it the second he crossed three blocks, then five, and then slowed. He eventually stopped, leaving his engine idling on the quiet street as his eyes scanned his surroundings.
“You’re a dumb son of a bitch,” he muttered to himself, because he should’ve kept going.
He should’ve gotten on the highway, put miles between him and Lillith, and disappeared like he always did.
Instead, he was still here—too close and exposed.
But the worst part about this mess was that he was too damn distracted.
His gaze flicked to the phone sitting in the passenger seat, noticing that the screen was dark, and there were no new messages.
That should’ve made things easier on him, but it didn’t, because now his brain had room to think—and thinking was the enemy.
Thinking meant remembering, and remembering meant hesitation.
And hesitation got people killed. People like Cami.
She didn’t deserve to get caught up in his mess, and she definitely didn’t deserve to die.
But once the assholes chasing him caught up to her, they didn’t hesitate to kill the woman he loved.
Even two years later, it still stung like a son-of-a-bitch.
Tank reached for the phone, unlocking it and pulling up the unknown number again. There was no ID, and he was pretty sure that it was just a burner. They were professionals, which meant this wasn’t random. This wasn’t street-level bullshit. This was definitely them, and they didn’t play games.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I know it’s you.” His thumb hovered over the screen. He knew that he had to delete the messages, dump the phone, and move on. That was the play—it was always the play. Instead, he stared at Lillith’s name and their conversation thread. He stared at the last thing she sent.
Tank
Just his name. It was simple but still tore at his gut. He exhaled slowly, leaning his head back against the seat.
“Don’t,” he told himself. “Don’t go back.” Because going back meant risking her life, and he wasn’t that selfish—was he? A flash of her dark hair and blue eyes ran through his mind, and damn—that smile. He remembered the words that she said to him.
Not when I think that they matter.
His jaw clenched. “Fuck.” Tank sat up straight, his decision snapping into place before he could second-guess it.
He wasn’t leaving—not yet. Not until he made sure she was safe, and not until he knew for a fact they hadn’t already circled too close to her.
Because if they had, if they’d followed him to her, he’d never forgive himself.
The truck shifted into gear, and this time, he knew exactly where he was going.
He parked about a block away from her sister’s house. At least, he hoped that it was her house. Lillith had given him an approximate location, and a Google search did the rest for him. He cut the lights to his truck and turned off the engine, wanting to keep things as quiet as possible.
Tank stepped out of his truck, shutting the door without a sound as his eyes swept the street.
It was a quiet neighborhood. The houses were close enough to hear the neighbors, and the porch lights were on.
He noticed the TV light flickering behind a curtain, which seemed pretty normal to him.
Hell, it all looked normal, but that didn’t mean anything.