Tank continued driving through South Dakota as it was nearing midnight. He was 15 minutes out from a rest stop. He was tired and figured they would shower in the morning. Kayla still laid her head on the window as she slept in the passenger seat, however, her once peaceful dream of her harvesting vegetables on the land in Decatur shifted to a nightmare.

Kayla was back in Decatur, standing barefoot in the rich, sun-warmed soil of the vast Carter's garden. The land stretched wide, green and thriving, just like the farm her great-grandmother used to tend to. She knelt down, her fingers gently brushing against the ripe tomatoes hanging from their vines, the scent of fresh earth and morning dew filling her senses. The sun beamed down on her skin, wrapping her in warmth, and she smiled as she reached for a woven basket to collect the vegetables.

She could hear the faint sound of Tank's laughter in the distance, deep and smooth, calling her name. She turned, eager to run toward him, but suddenly, the warmth drained from the air. The sunlight dimmed, and the once vibrant green fields turned a lifeless gray.

A heavy fog rolled in, creeping over the land like fingers stretching toward her. The sound of crickets and birds vanished, replaced by a low, menacing hum in the air. Kayla's breath hitched. The basket in her hand crumbled to dust, slipping through her fingers like sand.

Then she felt it—an ominous presence behind her.

A deep voice, low and filled with authority, slithered through the silence.

"You thought you could run from me?"

Her body went rigid. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to move, to run, but she was frozen. Slowly, she turned her head, her stomach twisting into knots.

Vince stood there, looming over her like a shadow that stretched for miles. His face was carved in anger, eyes dark and cold. The gold chain around his thick neck glinted under the dim, eerie light. His mouth curled into a twisted smirk.

"Where you think you goin', girl?" he drawled, his tone laced with something sinister.

Kayla's heart pounded. She turned fully, taking slow, cautious steps backward. The earth beneath her feet cracked like glass.

"Tank!" she screamed, her voice barely more than a whisper, lost in the thick, suffocating fog. She tried again, louder this time. "Tank!"

She could hear him, but his voice was distant, distorted, like he was calling to her from another world.

She turned to run, but Vince's large hand shot out, gripping her wrist in a vice-like hold. The pressure was unbearable, like her bones were about to snap.

"You ain't goin' nowhere."

Kayla thrashed, yanking at his grip, her breath coming in sharp gasps. The more she fought, the tighter his hold became, his fingers digging into her skin.

"You think that trucker boy can keep you safe? You think you belong to him?" Vince sneered, jerking her closer. His breath was hot against her ear, his voice dripping with mockery. "Nah, you'll always be under me."

Kayla's stomach dropped as she struggled harder, her free hand clawing at his grip, but it was like fighting against steel.

Then, in a flash, he yanked her forward, pulling her straight into the darkness. The world around her crumbled, the last thing she saw being his twisted smirk and the cruel glint in his eyes as he dragged her back into the nightmare she thought she had escaped.

Kayla let out a blood-curdling scream.

And that was when Kayla woke up screaming.

Tank, who was just parking the truck at the rest stop, damn near jumped out his seat. His hands left the wheel as he reached for her. "Kayla!" His voice was sharp, filled with concern.

She gasped, chest heaving, gripping the front of her hoodie as if trying to calm her racing heart.

Tank unbuckled his seatbelt and turned toward her, his big hands grabbing her face gently, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. "Look at me, baby, it was just a dream. You safe. Ain't nobody gon' touch you, I swear on everything," he reassured her, his voice thick with emotion.

Kayla's eyes darted around, still caught between the nightmare and reality. Her breathing was ragged, and her hands trembled. Tank pulled her into his lap without hesitation, wrapping his arms around her, securing her against his chest.

"You right here with me, lil' bit," he murmured against her hair, rocking her slightly. "Ain't nobody takin' you from me. Ain't nobody gon' hurt you no more."

Kayla clung to him, burying her face in his neck. His scent—warm, familiar, safe—helped slow her racing heartbeat.

After a long moment, she pulled back slightly, her face still flushed with fear. "It felt so real, Tank," she whispered.

He cupped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "I need you to hear me real good, Kayla. I don't care what kinda dreams you have, what kinda past you runnin' from—none of that shit matters now. You mine, and I protect what's mine. You hear me?"

Kayla swallowed hard, nodding. "I hear you, Tank," she whispered.

Tank wasn't satisfied. "Nah, say it."

Kayla looked into his eyes, feeling the intensity of his promise. "You protect what's yours."

Tank nodded, his lips brushing against her forehead before pulling her back into his chest. "Damn right I do."

For a long while, they sat in silence, the hum of the truck the only sound between them. Kayla finally exhaled, her body relaxing against his.

"You tired, baby?" he asked, his hand rubbing slow circles on her back.

She nodded against him. "Yeah."

"Aight, let's get in the back. You need to rest, and I ain't lettin' you go back to sleep up here."

Tank reached over, shutting off the engine before carefully carrying her to the back of the rig, laying her down on the bed. He pulled the covers over them both, holding her close.

"Sleep, Kay. I got you," he whispered.

Kayla let out a slow breath, allowing herself to sink into his warmth. She knew as long as she was in Tank's arms, no nightmare—real or imagined—could reach her.

Tank laid awake, staring at the ceiling of his rig, his arm still wrapped securely around Kayla's waist. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths, but his mind was racing. Vince. Just thinking about that sorry excuse for a man made his jaw clench.

He remembered the night he met Kayla—the night she ran. That brief, ugly encounter with Vince. Big, black, fat, and nasty-looking. The kind of man who had no business being around a girl like Kayla. A man who thought just because he paid bills, he could control her.

Tank didn't have to know Vince for long to understand why Kayla feared him. He saw it in her eyes, felt it in the way she tensed at the mere mention of his name. And what made Tank's stomach twist the most was knowing Vince tried to touch on her.

That shit alone made Tank crazy.

Kayla had didn't go into full detail, but she didn't have to because he knew enough without her telling him everything. The way she ran. The way she cried when she first told him about it. The way she still flinched in her sleep sometimes. That was all the confirmation he needed.

And if that motherfucker ever came sniffing around, Tank would put him down. No hesitation.

His fingers absentmindedly stroked Kayla's bare hip under the covers, grounding himself as he stared at her. She was curled into him, her breathing soft, her thick curls fanned out on his chest. His baby. His everything.

Tank didn't believe in love at first sight—at least, not before he met Kayla. But whatever this was, it had a grip on him so tight he didn't care to break free. She had his heart, his mind, his body, and his soul.

And that made him crazy about her. He'd kill for her. He'd die for her. She was his. And he was hers.

Tank exhaled, rubbing his hand down his face before pulling her closer. He kissed her forehead, whispering against her skin, "Ain't nobody takin' you from me, lil' bit. Not now. Not ever."

Kayla stirred slightly but didn't wake. She sighed in her sleep, snuggling deeper into his chest.

Tank smirked.

"That's right, baby. Rest. I got you."

And with that, he finally let his own eyes close, one arm locked around her, the other resting just inches away from the blade he kept under his pillow.