Chapter Text
I once loved a man who was all lips and hands,
If Tank knew anything, Tank knew Quinn. Even after all this time, even in the dingy light of the parking lot, Tank remembered what Quinn’s every tic, fidget, or tell meant…And Tank knew what that grin meant. Tank knew what that grin meant. That grin meant I’ve won . That grin meant I have the upper hand and you don’t even know how. That grin meant I know something you don’t .
Cracked lips and hands, calloused hands.
“Where’s your beloved stealth, Milo?” Quinn sneered.
Milo didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t even pick up on what Quinn had just implied. And Tank? Tank had just realised what that grin was all about. It sank to their stomach and settled until Tank was weighted to the ground, stuck . Quinn had Milo’s mate. But that wasn’t possible. Sneaks had been hunting Quinn since he killed Tank’s closest friend, since before they even knew Milo. Sneaks was a badass that wouldn’t go down without a fight. Sneaks was deadly. Sneaks-
“You’re bluffing,” They mumbled.
They had promised not to do what they normally would do. Tank had promised David that they would fight this particular battle with other people and that they would not go MIA again. And Quinn was making that particularly difficult.
“What was that, pet?” Quinn spat with a smile that Tank had once convinced themself was loving.
I still feel his touch against my skin,
The warmth of past love blossomed in their chest so fast that Tank almost choked on it. They could have sworn that they killed that part of them a long time ago, the part of them that wanted to run right back to Quinn and his false love. Instead, they spat right back at him. “I’m not your pet. And you’re bluffing.”
This wasn’t about Tank, not anymore. They knew that. This was a pack issue now, and they had to fight every instinct in them to bite. They needed to stall. Until the rest of the pack got here, at least. They needed to talk. The problem being Tank didn’t talk. Tank threw punches. Tank kicked, screamed, scratched. Tank bit so hard that their teeth drew red, coppery, bitter blood. Tank was sharp nails and rust. Tank was bruises and gritted teeth. Tank was much more bite than bark. But Tank was not a talker.
Past loves linger like phantom limbs.
“What have you done to them?” Milo finally responded, quiet with unease and sudden realisation.
Quinn grinned, sharp fangs on display and glinting in the dim, sickly yellow light of the parking lot they were in. He was taller than Milo, but then again he was taller than Tank. He towered over people in a way that made him seem so, so much more dangerous than you would assume at first glance. He was pretty and dressed in a way that screamed that he was so much more than a lowly, manipulative criminal. He did not seem nearly as dangerous as he was…maybe that’s what made him such a threat. You wouldn’t see him in the street and assume that he was a killer.
Quinn didn’t do anything but Milo? Milo swayed with the tension.
“ What have you done to them?!” Milo snapped, his voice ricocheting off of the parking lot pillars.
Quinn stood there, grinning and silent for what seemed like years until finally, he tilted his head to the side like a bird inspecting what would soon be its meal. “Ask them yourself.”
I cut straight to the heart.
“What?” Milo mumbled, voice cracking.
The space next to Quinn blurred like a heat signature until there, next to the man Tank might still love, stood Milo’s mate. Everything was in place. Down to every hair on their head, everything was right where it should be. They weren’t hurt at all. They showed no signs of injury or torture and everything fell into place. Quinn did not kidnap Milo’s mate. They were working together. Guilt struck Tank in the chest as if this mess was their fault. In some ways it was.
Sneaks looked guilty, rightfully so, and that guilt was evident in the way their voice trembled. “Milo, I’m so sorry.”
“Sweetheart? What’s going on?”
Tank wanted to sink their teeth in Sneaks’ throat and rip it out. They wanted to fight and scream until their ears rang and they swayed from the blood loss. But that wouldn’t help. And it especially wouldn’t help Milo.
“Well, stealth? Go on, sweetheart,” Quinn said with a sickly sweet grin.
“Don’t call them that!” Milo spat, stepping forward.
Tank grabbed Milo’s elbow. Tank knew that look in Milo’s eye. They knew the bitter sting of protectiveness. They knew how much Milo wanted to bite. They did too. Tank had been in enough fights to be able to tell that they couldn’t win alone. So, against all of their instincts telling them to pounce, they stayed put. And so did Milo.
They stood there, closer in proximity than they had been in literal years, swaying in the agony of waiting.
“Milo…” Sneaks’ voice sounded like it wasn’t really there, almost like it was coming out of a speaker. “Milo, I’ve been working with Quinn.”
Milo tried to jerk away from Tank, shaking with anger and the bitter bite of betrayal, but Tank pulled him back. Just a few more minutes and the rest of the pack would be here. Just. A. Few. More. Minutes.
“WHAT?!”
“Milo, please-”
Quinn stares at Tank with his signature, sharp grin. Tank scowls back.
This was planned.
“No, no, Sneaks, what? Literally, what? What do you mean you’ve been working with Quinn? I thought you were hunting him? Wasn’t he just a case?”
“Milo…I-I’m sorry.”
I don't believe the pretty little things that you say
“Sneaks, we have a house, we got rings, we-” Milo stopped himself, letting out a shaking sigh. “You’re my mate. That should mean something.”
Quinn stares at Tank. Tank scowls at Quinn. Milo stares at Sneaks. Sneaks avoids his gaze.
“I-It does mean something! I stopped wanting to do that months ago! I-I-I…. I love you! Please, Milo.”
Somewhere in the distance, Tank notices the distant thumping of boots and claws but they don’t listen for long. Milo begins to shake and shout very soon after.
“Do you expect me to believe that? Do you? You’re my mate! I thought you’d be around forever!”
“And I will!”
Quinn grins at Tank. Tank growls at Quinn. Milo shakes under the weight of betrayal. Sneaks shivers at the realisation that they’re the betrayer.
“No! You won’t! You’ve been working with Quinn! You’re!” He pauses. “...You’re a criminal.”
Quinn makes a move, stepping forward.
“Stay where you are, Quinn,” David commands, finally close enough to intercede.