Page 159 of Desperate People

Not ruined.

Not anything like those first days after that mess.

Some tabloids got wind of the story. Only in their version my attacker killed himself after being caught.

Balor was on it immediately. He had whole teams dedicated to putting out every blip of what happened.

And for those internet trolls who persisted? Well, let’s just say they found themselves in a world of virtual—and actual—hurt.

Being married to a genius hacker had a whole lot of perks.

But this thing here? Getting this tattoo.

It was equal parts putting all that behind me and showing my beautiful husband what he meant to me.

This was me taking my life back.

Being reborn.

The phoenix is the symbol of rebirth, after all.

Anyway, this feels right.

“Does it hurt?” Leanna asks, gnawing on her lower lip.

I shake my head. But it does hurt a little.

When April begins to shade in the wings, layering sapphire, emerald, and storm-gray into the flames, I can’t help but smile.

Those are our colors.

Mine and Balor’s.

My phoenix and my sword.

My rage and my redemption.

My beginning and my forever.

And beneath it all, one name.

The only name that’s ever mattered.

Balor.

Branded into me by choice.

By love.

By fire.

“Damn, Lucy,” Michaela whispers.

“It’s beautiful,” Shelly says.

April studies it with a sharp eye. “This is so powerful. And like we’ve talked about, we’ll layer it just right. You won’t ever have to see what was under it again. And maybe, after, you might consider doing some sketches for me?”

My eyes sting. But I smile. “That’s an idea.”

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