(Edited 05/2026)
Tank's POV
She had trouble written all over her.
Not the loud kind. Not the kind you saw coming from a mile away.
The quiet kind. The kind that hid behind tired eyes and forced silence until eventually it spilled out in ways nobody expected.
And somehow... I still couldn't stop watching her. Couldn't stop noticing her. Couldn't stop wanting to be near her.
Siren's fingers stayed twisted tightly in the back of my shirt the entire ride to the club, her thighs pressed against mine as we cut through the night air. At first, she tensed every time I sped up, but slowly, almost without realizing it, she relaxed.
Fear gave way to excitement. Then she laughed.
A real laugh.
The sound hit me harder than it should've.
For a second, I caught myself smiling like some damn idiot just because I'd managed to pull that sound out of her.
Which didn't make any sense. I barely knew her.
Kade had told me enough, though. About the grief. The shutting down. The way she disappeared into herself when life got too heavy.
What he didn't warn me about was how fast she'd get under my skin.
When we finally reached the club, I killed the engine and started getting off before realizing she hadn't moved.
"Siren?" I called back. "Siren?"
Her eyes looked distant, unfocused like she was somewhere else entirely.
"It's Rain," she snapped suddenly as she climbed off the bike.
And just like that, the warmth pressed against my back disappeared.
I watched her carefully. She looked angry, but underneath that anger was something worse. Something raw.
"You're a beautiful girl, Si," I said before I could stop myself. "Talented too. And I'm willing to bet you're pretty damn smart." I held her gaze steadily. "Don't ruin that with a shitty mood and a fierce attitude."
The surprise on her face almost made me smirk.
Good.
Because honestly, I surprised myself too.
Before I could say anything else stupid, I turned and headed inside.
"Tank."
Her voice stopped me immediately.
Hearing my name from her did something strange to my chest.
I didn't turn around.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm just... sorry."
My jaw tightened slightly.
"I know you are," I answered softly before finally walking inside.
The place was already alive.
Music pounded through the walls hard enough to shake the floorboards beneath heavy boots and dancing bodies. Colored lights flashed across worn wood floors while the smell of alcohol, sweat, and smoke mixed into something familiar.
Something that felt like home.
People shouted greetings across the room, laughed too loud, drank too much, lived too hard.
I headed straight for the bar.
"Tank, my man."
Alex flashed me a grin from behind the counter. Best friend. Bartender. Professional instigator.
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