Page 109 of Tank’s Weakness

He needs to die.

He can’t live. I won’t let him.

Today’s the day Blaine meets his maker, and I’ll make sure of it.

“Knock it off, man. You’ll kill him!” one of the guys hiss.

“Control yourself, Tank, before you go too far,” another one demands as they reach for me.

I dodge my brothers’ grasps while still hitting the dumbass beneath me.

Don’t they understand? He hurt what’s mine. He wanted to violate her in the worst possible way. No one who commits those acts deserves to breathe the same air as anyone, let alone a woman. If they were in my position, I wouldn’t make them stop.

No, I would do everything in my power to make sure they got to perform the ultimate form of justice.

“Warren, that’s enough. Stop now!” Delaney demands, her voice cuts through the fog, like an angel coming out of the clouds.

Blinking, I look over at her standing next to Smoke, his bare chest under his cut as she wears his T-shirt, covering her completely. It’s not her state of undress that draws me in. It’s the fear in her face.

She holds out her hand to me. “Come here, now.”

Without having to be told twice, I stand, walking toward her. As soon as I’m close enough, she breaks away from Smoke and throws herself into my arms.

“I’m so sorry, Laney. I let you down. I’m so sorry,” I murmur against her hair.

Glancing over my shoulder, I stare at Blaine’s lifeless body lying in the middle of the floor.

What have I done?

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Delaney

Everything feels like a blur.

Tank kicked in the door. Blaine taunted him.

Now they are fighting on the floor while I sit frozen on the bed. I know I should do something. I should tell Tank to stop. I should try and get him off of Blaine.

I can’t move, though.

“Delaney, are you hurt?” Smoke asks, coming to my side.

I can hear Gunner, Acid, Mac, and Jagger all trying to get through to Tank. I look over at him and see him growling down at Blaine while Blaine yells about me being his.

“Delaney, focus on me.”

I turn back to the man next to me. He is standing next to the bed. He’s careful not to touch me, but he is assessing me.

“I’m okay,” I whisper.

“You aren’t hurt anywhere?”

I shake my head. “Shouldn’t you be helping them?”

“You’re my priority. He would want that. Let’s get you out of here.”

He holds out his hand, and I stand, not thinking. Smoke coughs, turning his head as he pulls off his cut before removing his shirt, handing it to me.