Chapter 25

25

Clarke

B eck wrapped the blanket tighter around my shoulders. We'd been sitting here for hours, desperately waiting to hear something . Anything. But everyone that had gone on the rescue mission for Tank had gone radio silent. I'd barely been able to stomach food or sleep for the past two weeks Tank had been missing, but the past several hours had been even worse. The one time Adelaide had gotten me to finally eat, I'd just vomited it right back up, my stomach rejecting the sustenance I knew I needed.

Adelaide's burner phone suddenly rang, and I jerked my head up from Beck's shoulder, clipping him on the chin. He grunted, but when I turned to apologize, he shook his head, gesturing for me to stay silent. So, I did, focusing back on the woman who was now staring out the window, her back to us, listening to whatever the person calling her had to say.

After a minute, she pulled her phone down from her ear and turned to face us. A small smile tilted her lips, and my heart clenched in my chest, hope threatening to burst through. Reaching through the blanket, I latched my hand around Beck's, squeezing hard enough that it had to hurt, though he gave no inclination that it did.

"Tank is alive," she informed us. I sobbed then, tears pouring down my cheeks as my shoulders sagged in relief. "He's in bad shape, but he's going to be okay. Holden and Vern are rushing him to the emergency room now, and I've been given orders to take you two there."

I rushed to my feet, the blanket falling from around my shoulders, and Beck quickly followed, our hands still latched together. Reina came out of the kitchen. "I've got the kids," she told Adelaide. "Go."

"I owe you one," Adelaide told her as she headed toward the clubhouse doors, Beck and I right on her heels. She grabbed a set of keys off the hook by the door.

"You don't owe me shit," Reina called her. "Get those two to their man."

"How bad is he?" Beck asked Adelaide once we were on the highway. My hand was growing sweaty in his, but I couldn't bring myself to let go. It was almost as if I did, I might fall the fuck apart. Beck was my lifeline, and I needed to hold myself together for Tank's sake.

He was alive. He was safe now. And he needed to be able to lean on me and Beck just as we'd leaned on him after he'd rescued us.

"I don't know," Adelaide told us as she hit the indicator to turn onto the main highway. "I just know he's in a bit of a bad shape and being rushed to the ER, though Vern doesn't think it's anything serious."

"Vern's not a doctor," I said bitterly.

Adelaide shook her head. "Vern has his own shit he comes from, and he knows how to medically treat people as well as he knows how to drive ink into someone's skin. If he says it's nothing serious, I trust him." She glanced at me through the rearview mirror attached to the windshield. "You should, too, Clarke. These men will never lie to any of us."

Beck pressed a kiss to my temple. "He's going to be okay," he tried soothing me. But he and I both knew I wouldn't believe it until I saw it with my own eyes.

I knew just how much could happen in a mere two weeks, which meant Tank could be severely hurt.

Vern was waiting for us when we walked through the emergency room doors. Holden was handing a clipboard to the woman in scrubs working the front desk. Vern offered us small smiles. "They'll let us back in a few minutes—just as soon as they're done stitching him up and getting some antibiotics in his system." Beck dropped my hand, then wound his arm around my waist, tugging me against his side. I curled my fingers into his shirt, my chest beginning to ache. "I want to prepare you two for what'll be waiting on you."

"Oh, God," I choked out.

"Easy, baby," Beck rumbled, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of my head. He nodded once at Vern. "Go on."

"He's not going to be awake," Vern warned us. "He was coming and going throughout the drive over here. The doctor sedated him once they got him into a triage room so they could tend to his wounds without him constantly coming and going. He's got some deep fucking cuts. The ones they bothered stitching are poorly stitched and weren't healing properly. Tank is going to be left with scars all over his body once he finally heals. The doctors are doing what they can to prevent scarring in places they can, but they don't have much hope without some kind of cosmetic surgery in the future, and well, I don't think Tank will agree to that."

A tear trailed down my cheek, my gut churning. "He's severely malnourished and dehydrated. Looks like they only gave him the bare minimum to keep him alive and nothing more. And he…" Vern's words trailed off for a moment, pain for Tank—for his brother—flashing across his face. "Tank was raped. Brutally. There's a lot of tearing. He's got a long road of recovery ahead of him."

My face crumpled, and I sobbed, tears streaking down my cheeks. Beck turned me, pulling my face against his chest to shield me from everyone watching. I clenched his shirt in my fists, my tears soaking into his shirt, but he didn't seem to care. He just held me tightly and rested his chin on the top of my head, letting me get it out.

Beck had been so strong these past two weeks while I'd been falling apart every night. I had no idea how he compartmentalized everything so well, but I envied him being able to do so. I wished I could compartmentalize everything I felt. It would've made all this so much easier to bear, but instead, I was cursed to just feel everything intensely. So intensely, it was almost too much to bear.

"Ash Grave?" an older voice called out. I spun around and swiped at my cheeks, watching as Vern waved at the man in a pair of khaki slacks, a pale blue button-down, and an open lab coat. He made his way over to us, a kind smile on his face. "Vern, right?" Vern nodded. "Ash is ready for visitors now. I'd like to discuss everything with you in his room, if that's okay?"

Vern nodded and pressed a palm to Beck's lower back. Beck grabbed my hand, and the three of us followed the doctor through a set of heavy, steel double doors and down two hallways until he pushed open the door to room nineteen. When we stepped inside, my knees almost buckled.

Tank was… fuck .

Bruises discolored his body, and stitches held his mangled skin together. He'd lost so much weight, so much muscle mass. His hair was matted and greasy, and a scraggly beard covered the lower half of his face. He was laying as still as a rock, his chest slowly rising and falling—the only indication he was alive aside from the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

"He should wake up in about thirty minutes," the doctor informed us. "And he's going to be in a lot of pain." He grabbed a button resting beside Tank on the bed. "This is for morphine. He'll have it for the first day he's here in the hospital before we try to put him on something he can take at home." He showed us the button. "It can be pressed every twenty minutes as needed."

I nodded before moving away from Beck and closer to the head of Tank's bed. My palm cupped his cheek, and my lips trembled. He was so pale, and he looked so weak. It tore my heart to pieces. "Tank has quite a bit of recovery ahead of him. Unfortunately, he's going to be heavily scarred. The cosmetic surgeon I called in a special favor to did what he could for his wounds, but without cosmetic surgery after he heals, the scars will remain." A tear slipped from my eye and ran down my cheek, falling onto Tank's cheek. I gently wiped it away, sniffling.

"The rectal tearing?" Beck quietly asked. I flinched at the question.

"Will heal fine," the doctor assured us. "He just needs lots of rest, a healthy diet, which we'll start him off with here." He held out his card to Vern, but Beck took it. Vern rested his hand on Beck's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I want to see Tank once a week until I feel comfortable enough to see him less."

"I'll make sure he's at every appointment," Beck told the doctor, tilting his chin up with a strength I knew was hard for him to muster up despite how calm he was at the moment. I knew he was hurting, even if he was hiding it.

Fuck, I was sure I'd been doing enough crying and had been depressed enough for the both of us.

"I'll be back in an hour or two to check on him again," the doctor informed us. "Please don't hesitate to find one of the nurses if you need anything."

With that, he left the room. Vern looked at me. "Have you eaten?" I just shrugged. He sighed. "I'm going to find you two some food. Stay here in this room and don't leave, understand?"

"I'm not going anywhere," I croaked. The only way I was leaving this room was if someone dragged me out kicking and screaming.

Vern nodded and slipped from the room. Beck wrapped his arms around me from behind and rested his chin on my shoulder, both of us staring down at Tank. I stroked my hand over his dark hair. His eyes slowly cracked open, and I swallowed thickly, my hand trembling in the greasy strands of his hair. Finally, they opened fully, and he immediately looked at both of us.

"Little one," he rasped.

My shoulders shook as I began to cry all over again. For two weeks, I'd thought I would never hear him call me that again. Leaning down, I cupped his cheeks to press a kiss to his lips. He cupped the back of my head, kissing me back soft and slow.

"I thought you were dead," I sobbed.

He shook his head and brushed some of my tears off my cheek before his hand dropped back to the mattress with a grunt. He closed his eyes again, already looking tired. "Not dead, little one. I'd never leave you two in this world without me." He looked at Beck, a small smile tilting his lips. "Hey, baby."

"Hey," Beck croaked, his voice thick with tears. "Don't ever fucking do something like that again."

Tank sighed. "That's not a promise I'm willing to make, boy." He shut his eyes again. "So fucking tired," he breathed.

I pressed a kiss to his cheek, my chin wobbling. "Get some more rest. We'll be right here. I promise."

He nodded before his breaths slowly evened out again. Beck took a seat in the chair near the bed and reached out to draw me down on his lap. I snuggled into him, and he pressed a tender kiss to my lips. "Will you eat now?" he asked quietly, neither of us wanting to disturb Tank.

I nodded. "He's okay."

Beck smiled before brushing the tip of his nose against mine in an Eskimo kiss. "He's okay, baby."

I cupped the side of his neck and smoothed my lips over his. He groaned quietly into my mouth before parting our lips and resting his forehead on mine. "I love you," he murmured.

I brushed our noses together again. "I love you, too."