Page 60 of Piston

Her head lolled against my chest, eyes fluttering closed. I could feel the eyes of every brother in the room on us, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Tank?" Cass's voice cut through the silence, a question and a warning all in one.

I met his gaze, my jaw clenched tight. "Get Doc," I said, my tone brooking no argument. "Now."

Cass nodded, already reaching for his phone. I knew he understood the gravity of the situation, the unspoken code that bound us all. When someone came to the Iron Reapers for help, we didn't turn them away.

As I scooped the woman up in my arms, her head resting against my shoulder, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. That somehow, this broken, battered stranger was about to change everything.

But at that moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was keeping her safe, getting her the help she needed. Because that's what I did. That's who I was.

I was Tank, the Iron Reaper. And I never backed down from a fight, no matter where it led me.

The stairs creaked beneath my boots as I carried her up to my room, her weight barely registering in my arms. She was so damn light, like she hadn't eaten a proper meal in weeks. The thought made my stomach twist, anger simmering just beneath the surface.

I shouldered open the door, careful not to jostle her too much. The room was sparse, just a bed and a dresser, but it would have to do. I laid her down on the mattress, my eyes scanning her body for any sign of serious injury.

"What the hell happened to you?" I muttered, more to myself than to her.

She didn't answer, of course. Just lay there, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. I brushed a strand of hairaway from her face, my fingers lingering on her cheek for just a moment too long.

A knock at the door jolted me back to reality. I turned to see Doc standing in the doorway, his medical bag in hand.

"Cass filled me in," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Let's take a look at her."

I stepped back, watching as Doc set to work. He checked her pulse, her breathing, his brow furrowed in concentration. I paced the room, my mind racing with questions I had no answers to.

Who was she? What had happened to her? And why the hell did I care so much?

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. It didn't matter who she was or where she'd come from. All that mattered was making sure she pulled through.

"She's stable," Doc said finally, straightening up. "But she's going to need rest and fluids. I'll set up an IV."

I nodded, relief washing over me like a wave. "Thanks, Doc. I owe you one."

He waved off my gratitude, already packing up his bag. "Just doing my job," he said. "You know where to find me if anything changes."

And then he was gone, leaving me alone with her once more. I sank down into the chair beside the bed, my eyes never leaving her face.

"Who are you?" I whispered, my voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner. "What happened to you out there?"

But she just lay there, lost in a world of her own. And as the minutes ticked by, I found myself making a silent promise.

I would keep her safe. I would find out what had happened to her. And I would make damn sure that whoever had hurt her paid the price.

Because that's what I did. That's who I was.

I was Tank, the Iron Reaper. And I never let anyone down, no matter what it cost me.

The hours ticked by as I sat there, keeping watch over the mysterious woman who'd stumbled into my life. The steady beep of the heart monitor filled the room, a constant reminder that she was still with us, still fighting.

I couldn't explain it, but something about her called to me on a level I'd never experienced before. It was like a pull, a connection that I couldn't shake off. And the longer I sat there, the stronger it grew.

My mind raced with questions, trying to piece together the puzzle of who she was and what had brought her to Perdition. But for now, all I could do was wait and hope that she'd wake up soon.

As the first rays of sunlight started to peek through the blinds, I heard a soft groan from the bed. I leaned forward, my heart pounding in my chest as her eyelids fluttered open.

"Hey," I said softly, not wanting to startle her. "You're safe now. You're at Perdition, the Iron Reapers' clubhouse."

She blinked up at me, confusion and fear clouding her eyes. "Who... who are you?" she croaked, her voice hoarse from disuse.

"I'm Tank," I replied, offering her a reassuring smile. "I'm the one who found you last night. You collapsed in the bar, and I brought you up here to get some help."

She nodded slowly, seeming to process my words. "Thank you," she whispered, her gaze dropping to the IV line in her arm.

"Don't mention it," I said, shrugging off her gratitude. "I'm just glad you're okay."

But even as I spoke the words, I knew that this was just the beginning. Whatever had happened to her, whatever demons she was running from, I was determined to help her face them head-on.

Because that's what I did. That's who I was.