Page 16 of Hardline Torque
They pulled into the compound just as the night settled fully in around them.Tane parked the truck behind the secondary structures, near where the hangar would be built in a couple of months—out of sight, secure.The two of them climbed out of the truck and moved to meet the rest of Black Tide as they stepped out of his truck.
Luca wandered out of the command center, grinning.“Got a fix in place for nosy little Russians.”
Victor flipped him off without missing a beat.
The laughter that followed was easy.Familiar.
It was late.Bone-deep late.
“I’ll sleep in the truck,” Victor said.“We can talk tomorrow.”
“You can,” Tane agreed.“Or you can crash in my van.I’ll even cook.You look like you’ve lost weight.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, just walked over toward where the team had their vans parked.
His van was exactly to his tastes—a hybrid between a high-end camper and a meditation den he’d built with his own hands.Bamboo mats lined the floor, soft under bare feet.Low, indirect lighting warmed the space instead of bleaching it.A portable water feature he’d welded himself murmured quietly from one corner, the sound grounding, deliberate.
There was a reasonable-sized shower he could stand up in without hunching, steam-sealed and practical.A large table dominated the center of the van against the far wall, big enough to work at or eat properly, scarred by use rather than neglect.The kitchenette was compact but beautifully appointed—clean lines, quality fittings, everything exactly where he needed it.
His bed sat behind a sliding partition like many of the vans Black Tide built.King-size.Solid.Comfortable.A place meant for real rest, not just to collapse on at the end of a hard day.
Tane started pulling ingredients out—root vegetables, protein, herbs—hands moving on autopilot.He was halfway through chopping when the door slid open.
Victor stood there, framed by the light, looking almost stunned.
“You hungry?”Tane asked.
Victor nodded, taking his shoes off as he entered Tane’s space, and that move alone endeared him to him even more.
“Shower’s yours,” Tane said.“Clean shorts, shirts, and new boxers in that drawer beside you and dinner will be ready in forty-five.Grab us both a beer when you’re done.We’ll talk over food.”
Victor disappeared into the bathroom.
Tane exhaled, long and slow, the tension finally easing out of his shoulders.
He cooked, thinking about trust, about bundles of sticks, and about the conversation that waited for them both.
****
Hot water beat downover Victor’s shoulders, sluicing away salt and blood and the sharp metallic edge of adrenaline that had lived under his skin for days.
He braced one hand against the wall of the shower, head bowed, eyes closed, letting the steam fill his lungs.He should not be here.He knew that.Every instinct he’d honed under the Directorate screamed that following Tane back to Black Tide’s compound was a mistake.
And yet ...here he was.
When the truck had rolled through the gate, when Tane had smiled at the armed guard like this place was home and the world bent around him, something in Victor had ...shifted.Not trust.Not yet.But curiosity.And something dangerously close to hope.
Tane’s story circled his thoughts, uninvited and relentless.
A scrawny kid.Beaten.Alone.Refusing help because wanting anything had once cost too much.
Victor swallowed, throat tight.
He understood that instinct intimately.
The Directorate had built their empire on it.
He reached up and shut off the water, the sudden quiet loud in the enclosed space.Steam curled around him as he stepped out, grabbing a towel.The mirror across from him caught his reflection and he grimaced.
