Tank woke to the sound of Kayla pacing in the small sleeping space, her voice hushed but sharp as she whisper-yelled into her phone. His eyes adjusted to the dim lighting as he listened, quickly realizing she was arguing with someone.

"Janay, I don't care what they say, I'm not coming back," Kayla snapped.

Her little sister, Janay, was on the other end of the call, her 17-year-old voice filled with urgency. "Mama and Daddy are looking for you," Janay hissed.

Kayla smacked her lips, her frustration evident. "That man ain't my daddy," she shot back, rolling her eyes.

Janay's voice sharpened. "Vince is the only daddy you ever know!"

Kayla let out a bitter laugh. "He ain't my daddy, he's yours. He ain't try to touch you, but he was trying to touch me. That man is NOT my daddy!"

Silence stretched for a beat before Janay scoffed. "You a liar, Kayla."

Kayla exhaled, shaking her head. "Whatever, Janay. I'm grown. I not coming home to get abused."

Janay's voice turned smug. "Well, they know you are in Maine."

Kayla snorted. "Okay. Let's see if they actually come to Maine to get me. I'm 18, I'm legal, and I ain't coming back." Without another word, she hung up the phone and immediately blocked her sister, just as she had done with her mother and stepdad.

Tank had been watching the whole thing unfold, leaning against the bed, his arms folded. He saw the stress weighing on her, the way her shoulders tensed as she stood there gripping her phone. He knew she had a lot on her mind.

Without a word, he opened his arms.

Kayla didn't hesitate. She crawled into his embrace, tossing her phone onto the mattress like she wanted nothing to do with it anymore.

"Don't worry," Tank murmured, pulling her close, his deep voice filled with quiet reassurance. "I won't let anybody take you back there. Nobody takin' you away from me."

Kayla clung to him tightly, burying her face into his chest as the weight of everything threatened to bring her to tears. Tank rubbed slow, comforting circles on Kayla's back as she clung to him, her body trembling with quiet sobs. He held her close, feeling each shudder as she buried herself deeper into his chest. He didn't rush her. He didn't tell her to stop crying. He just held her, letting her get it all out.

Between her cries, she finally spoke, her voice breaking. "He—he used to come in my room at night, Tank," she whispered, her grip tightening on him like she was scared he'd let go.

Tank's entire body tensed, but he stayed quiet, letting her talk.

"Vince," she spat his name like it disgusted her. "He said since I wasn't pure no more—since I had sex with my boyfriend—he should be able to touch me too."

Tank's jaw locked. His arms tightened around her. His stomach twisted with anger, but he stayed silent, letting her continue.

Kayla swallowed hard, wiping her face as she kept going. "My first boyfriend told me if I loved him like he loved me, I'd have sex with him. I was young, I didn't know no better... so I agreed." She let out a bitter laugh. "And after that, that's all he wanted to do. Every chance he got, he would manipulate me into it. Told me I was proving my love to him. And I believed him."

Tank closed his eyes for a brief second, his fingers gripping the back of her shirt.

Kayla sniffed, shaking her head against his chest. "When my mama found out, she whooped me. Butt naked. In front of Vince," her voice cracked. "I have never been so embarrassed in my life."

Tank exhaled sharply, his body rigid. He wanted to hurt somebody. The thought of Kayla being humiliated like that, vulnerable and exposed, made his blood boil.

He tilted her chin up, looking into her tear-stained eyes as he wiped her face gently with his thumbs. "Ain't nobody ever gon' touch you again, you hear me?" His voice was low, firm, but full of promise. "Ain't nobody gon' lay a hand on you. Ever."

Kayla nodded, her lip trembling, and Tank pulled her back into his chest, holding her tighter.

"You safe with me, lil' bit," he murmured, his lips pressing against the top of her head. "Always."

Kayla's cries slowly faded into quiet sniffles as Tank kept rubbing slow, soothing circles on her back. She pressed her face into his chest, her body going limp with exhaustion. Her heart felt lighter after telling him, but now a new fear crept in—what if he looked at her differently?

She didn't want his pity. She didn't want him to see her as broken.

Tank, on the other hand, wasn't thinking any of that. If anything, his protective instincts had doubled. His grip on her was firm, like he was silently vowing to never let anything happen to her again. And the rage burning inside of him? That was a whole different thing.

He wasn't just mad—he was furious. At her mama, at Vince, at anybody who had failed to protect her.

He took a deep breath, trying to push that anger down. Right now, Kayla needed him calm. He needed to get this load to Atlanta and get her to his house where she could feel safe.

Tank glanced down at her. She was exhausted, her breathing deep and steady against his chest. She needed sleep, and he needed to hit the road before he let his thoughts get the best of him.

Carefully, he adjusted her, pulling the comforter over her body before slipping out of the bed. He grabbed his jeans, slid them on, and ran a hand down his face before getting back in the driver's seat.

With one last look at Kayla curled up in the back, Tank started the truck and pulled onto the road. He needed to get them home but first he needed to refuel one last time.

Tank stood at the pump, fueling up the truck while his mind ran a mile a minute. He had one last stretch to go—six hours, and he'd be in Atlanta. He was pushing it, running on fumes himself, but he'd be damned if he stopped now.

After topping off the tank, he went inside the gas station, grabbing several Red Bulls from the cooler. He knew he'd need the boost. As he paid, his phone buzzed—his dispatcher confirming the delivery details. Good. The sooner he dropped this load off, the sooner he could take Kayla home.

Home.

That thought hit him harder than he expected. He hadn't planned for her to come back with him, but now? He couldn't imagine leaving her anywhere else. Kayla didn't have a home to go back to—not a safe one, anyway.

Walking back to the truck, he glanced through the windshield at her still sleeping. She looked peaceful, her face relaxed for the first time in hours. That only fueled his determination.

Climbing into the driver's seat, he cracked open a Red Bull, took a long swig, and pulled back onto the highway.

Next stop—Atlanta and home.

Tank kept his focus on the road, his grip tight on the wheel as he pushed the truck down the highway. The hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of the radio were the only sounds filling the cab. Every so often, he'd glance in the rearview mirror at Kayla, still curled up in the sleeping area.

She needed the rest, but more than that—she needed safety. Stability. And he was determined to give her that.

His jaw clenched as his mind circled back to everything she had told him. The way her so-called stepfather had preyed on her. The way her mama turned a blind eye. The way she had to run just to find peace. He knew men like Vince—weak, sick bastards who got off on controlling and hurting people. It made his blood boil.

Kayla stirred, stretching under the quilt before pushing herself up onto her elbows. Her eyes met his, soft and tired.

"How long was I sleep?" she asked, voice thick with drowsiness.

"Couple hours," Tank muttered, taking another sip of his Red Bull. "We about four hours out."

Kayla nodded and sat up fully, pulling her knees to her chest. She watched him, the muscles in his arms flexing as he maneuvered the truck.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice gentle.

Tank exhaled through his nose, keeping his eyes on the road. "Yeah."

Kayla didn't believe him. She could see it all over his face—he was still thinking about everything she told him.

"Tanky," she called softly.

His fingers twitched on the wheel at the sound of his name on her lips. He cut his eyes toward her briefly before looking back at the highway.

"I don't want you to stress about me," she continued. "You have already done enough."

Tank scoffed. "Enough?" He shook his head. "Not even close, lil bit."

Kayla swallowed, the warmth in her chest spreading. She didn't know what she had done to deserve someone like Tank in her corner, but she wasn't about to push him away.

She reached across the console, her fingers grazing his arm. He finally looked at her, his light brown eyes dark with something she couldn't quite place.

"I mean it," she whispered.

Tank nodded once, then turned his attention back to the road.

They rode in silence for a while, the tension in the air shifting. It wasn't uncomfortable—it was heavy, thick with unspoken words.

Kayla settled back, watching the trees blur past, the road stretching ahead of them.

Atlanta was getting closer and so was whatever was growing between them.

Tank was determined as he approached Atlanta. The destination in Atlanta was Buckhead, and Tank was definitely delivering to an athlete—a basketball player. He didn't care, though. He was tired and wanted to get to his family compound in Decatur, where his farmhouse was calling his name.

Kayla watched him unload each car with precision from the enclosed trailer hooked to his rig. She could tell Tank was determined, but overall, he was irritated. She knew it wasn't with her—it was with her mama and stepdad. The way his jaw stayed clenched, the way he barely spoke as he moved, and the way his muscles tensed with every motion told her everything she needed to know.

Kayla kept quiet as she leaned against the side of the truck, watching him finish up. When the last car was unloaded and signed off, Tank wasted no time hopping back into the truck.

"C'mon, lil bit," he murmured.

Kayla climbed in without question, buckling her seatbelt as Tank pulled out of the fancy neighborhood and onto the freeway. His shoulders didn't relax until they passed the city limits, and the familiar landscape of Decatur started coming into view.

Kayla had never been to Atlanta, let alone Decatur, but she could tell Tank was home. His hands weren't gripping the wheel as tightly, and his jaw wasn't locked anymore.

"Tanky..." she said softly.

He glanced at her. "Yeah?"

"You good?"

Tank exhaled through his nose. "I am now."

Kayla didn't say anything else. She just watched the way his fingers tapped against the wheel, the way his light brown eyes scanned the road like he was mentally shifting gears.

Twenty minutes later, Tank pulled up to a long driveway, lined with tall trees and a black iron gate. Kayla's eyes widened as the gate slid open, revealing multiple homes a sitting on acres of land.

"This... all yours?" she asked in disbelief.

Tank smirked as he pulled up and parked. "Nah, it's my family's home but farmhouse over dere is mine. You like it?"

Kayla blinked, still taking it all in. "Like it? This look like something out a magazine."

Tank chuckled, finally relaxing. "C'mon, let's get inside."

Kayla followed him up the porch steps as he unlocked the front door and pushed it open. She stepped inside and was immediately hit with the smell of fresh wood, clean linen, and something that smelled like Tank—earthy and masculine.

Kayla took a deep breath as she looked around. "Damn, Tanky..."

Tank smirked, watching her take it all in. "Welcome home, lil bit."