Thursday, February 27, 2025

heath and tank talk 1

Saturday Afternoon – The Pact of Secrets

1 – A Change of Scenery

Tank exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he studied Heath.

The excitement in Heath’s eyes wasn’t just curiosity—it was hunger.

And that was a problem.

Because Heath wasn’t just some guy digging into things he shouldn’t.

Heath had felt it, same as Tank.

Maybe not in the same way—his experience had been with Clay, not Atlas—but it had still left its mark.

Tank wasn’t stupid.

Whatever happened to Heath had changed him, too.

And Tank needed to figure out how far that change had gone.

He sighed, rolling his shoulders. “Come on,” he muttered.

Heath raised an eyebrow. “Where are we going?”

Tank pocketed the book he had grabbed—some half-assed demonology text he doubted would be useful but might be worth skimming later—then jerked his head toward the door.

“Somewhere we can actually talk.”

Heath grinned. “Ooh. Sounds secretive.”

Tank scowled. “Shut up and follow me.”


---

2 – The Game Begins

They ended up in a quiet corner booth at a bar a few blocks from Hex & Bone.

It wasn’t The Den—thank God—just a low-lit place where people came for whiskey and silence.

Tank took the seat facing the door, habit kicking in. Heath slid in across from him, looking way too entertained.

“You look tense,” Heath said, smirking.

Tank grunted. “I’m fine.”

A waitress came by. They ordered drinks—Tank a bourbon, Heath a gin and tonic, because of course he was a gin and tonic guy.

When she left, Tank leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s get something straight.”

Heath’s smirk widened. “Oh, please. Set the ground rules, big guy.”

Tank ignored him.

“This isn’t a game, Heath.” His voice was low, steady. “You think this is all some fun, sexy occult shit, but it’s not. You don’t even understand what the fuck you’re playing with.”

Heath tilted his head. “And you do?”

Tank clenched his jaw. “I know enough to be careful.”

Heath leaned forward, elbows on the table. “And yet, here you are. Chasing answers. Just like me.”

Tank exhaled sharply.

Because Heath wasn’t wrong.

But that didn’t mean Heath knew what he was getting into.

Tank studied him, eyes narrowing. “You said Clay was the one who pulled you in.”

Heath nodded. “Yeah.”

Tank drummed his fingers against the table. “And what did he say?”

Heath grinned. “About what?”

Tank’s patience thinned. “About Atlas. About what the fuck is happening to us.”

Heath’s expression shifted slightly, amusement giving way to something darker.

He traced the rim of his glass. “He told me Atlas serves something older. Something with real power.”

Tank stayed silent, letting him talk.

Heath’s eyes flickered up. “And that whatever happened to Tank wasn’t an accident.”

Tank’s stomach tightened.

Because Clay had known, too.

Atlas had told him that others had failed before him.

And now here was Clay, confirming that Tank had been chosen on purpose.

But the question was—why?

Tank leaned back, studying Heath. “And you? How’d it affect you?”

Heath exhaled through his nose. “Oh, you noticed?”

Tank gave him a look. “You’re not exactly subtle, dude.”

Heath chuckled. “Fair.”

He swirled his drink. “It’s like… I can still feel it. Like there’s something in my skin, waiting. But it’s not active, not like you.”

Tank frowned. “So you don’t have the pull.”

Heath shook his head. “Not like you. But I can… resist it.”

Tank stilled. “What?”

Heath tilted his head. “I felt you at Bear Bash. Same as everyone else. But I could fight it. Not forever, but enough.”

Tank narrowed his eyes. “Because of Clay?”

Heath shrugged. “Guess so. He said the only one who can give someone power is Atlas. But what he did to me… gave me something. Just not the whole thing.”

Tank sat back, chewing on that.

Heath was half-marked.

Touched by the same power, but not fully pulled under.

That meant something.

But Tank didn’t know what yet.


---

3 – What Now?

The drinks kept coming.

They kept talking.

And the more they talked, the more Tank realized—Heath wasn’t backing down.

He wasn’t afraid of any of this.

If anything, he wanted more.

“So,” Heath finally said, tipping his glass toward Tank. “What now?”

Tank exhaled. “You shut the fuck up and don’t tell anyone else.”

Heath smirked. “And what if I do?”

Tank’s eyes darkened. “Then I shut you up myself.”

Heath shivered—not with fear.

With something else.

Something Tank wasn’t in the mood to analyze.

Heath leaned forward, voice a low purr. “You sure you don’t want me to talk? Might be fun to put me in my place.”

Tank growled. “Don’t push me, Heath.”

Heath chuckled. “Fine, fine.” He sat back. “I’ll behave. For now.”

Tank clenched his jaw.

Because Heath was going to be a problem.

But for now—

He had bigger things to worry about.


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