Page 3 of Property of Fox

I arch my eyebrow and cross my arms firmly over my chest. "Are you saying it was just a coincidence that you happened to be passing by the bookstore, which is miles from your usual route to the clubhouse?"

“Didn’t I tell you to stay at the house today? There’s shit going down with the club.”

“I’m at a bookstore, Tank. It’s not like some biker gang member is going to beeline for a bookstore to kidnap me.”

“Watch your tone with me,” Tank warns me.

I roll my eyes defiantly, refusing to back down. “What? Are you going to throw me on the back of your bike and take me home like a child?” The words slip out before I can stop myself, but there's an edge of defiance in my tone that feels liberating.

“Don’t fucking test me, Brea.” Tank's eyes narrow, and I can feel his anger pressing down on me like a physical force. For a moment, I'm tempted to shrink back, to apologize and follow his orders like Mom always does. But something inside me rebels against the idea.

"I'm not a child anymore, Tank," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "You can't just order me around and expect me to obey without question like you do with my Mom. What are you going to do? Beat on me like you do her?"

Tank is off his bike in one fluid movement. A movement so quick that it barely registers before he’s nearly nose to nose with me. Tank's eyes flash with a dangerous glint, and I feel my heart quicken. His massive frame towers over me, and for a split second, I wonder if I've pushed too far. But I stand my ground, refusing to back down.

"You think you know everything, don't you?" Tank snarls, his voice low and menacing. "You don't know shit about what goes on in this world. The things I do, I do to protect you and your mother."

I scoff, even as fear churns in my stomach. "Protect us? Is that what you call it when Mom's crying in the kitchen at night?"

His jaw clenches, and I see a flicker of something cross his face before it hardens again. "You need to watch your mouth, Brea. There are things at play here you don't understand."

"Then help me understand," I challenge, my voice wavering slightly. "Because from where I'm standing, all I see is a bully who thinks he can control everyone around him."

Tank's nostrils flare, his eyes blazing with barely contained rage. For a moment, I think he might actually strike me right here on the street. A part of me wants him to do it so that someone can see how much of a monster he is and report him like I’ve wanted to do since my mom’s first black eye. But, if I did that, it doesn’t solve the problem of his club if they found out it was me who reported them. Mom and I are trapped in their world with no way of escape. The bookstore door chimes next to us. Tank doesn’t take his eyes off of me but steps back.

“You okay, B?” Keira asks. Her eyes assessing the scene playing out on the street for anyone to witness.

“I’m fine. Tank is just leaving. Aren’t you?”

Tank’s expression morphs from steely resolve to a veneer of reluctant resignation, but I can see the storm brewing beneath his surface. He opens his mouth, and I brace myself for another lecture, but then he closes it again, fighting whatever battle rages in his mind.

“We’ll discuss this when I get back to the house tonight,” he declares through gritted teeth. “Go home.”

My breath hitches at the finality of his tone. “No. I’m staying here.”

Keira shifts beside me, shooting a wary glance between us. “Brea—” she starts, but I hold up a hand to silence her.

“Even prisoners get yard time, Tank. I am going to go back into that bookstore, and when I am done, then, and only then, will I go home.”

“Brea,” Tank repeats, voice low and dangerous. “You think this is a game?” He takes a step closer again, closing the distance, making my heart race. “Get your fucking ass in yourcar, or I will take you home myself. It’s not a request. It’s an order.”

“So, you’re ordering me around now like one of your prospects?”

“B, people are watching,” Keira quietly interjects into the conversation.

"Let them watch," I shoot back, fiery determination coursing through me. The challenge in my voice rings loud and clear, and I can feel Tank's gaze drilling into me like hot steel.

“Cute,” he responds, but an edge to his tone makes my pulse quicken. “But this isn’t a fucking game. I can make your life hell if you don’t comply.”

“You already do,” I retort, the words slipping out in defiance, and the moment they do, I wish I could snatch them back. But it's too late.

Tank’s jaw clenches tighter, the muscles in his arms coiling like springs ready to snap. “You and I both know how this will end if you keep pushing.”

“Then maybe it needs a different ending,” I shoot back.

I glance over at Keira for support but find her biting her lip nervously as she stands between us like a referee in this war zone. The bookstore's patrons now pause to witness our stand-off with wide eyes.

Taking one last defiant step forward, I shake my head vehemently before spinning around on my heel towards Keira after wrestling back control over myself just enough not to shout again, “I’m going inside.”

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