The moment I see my tattoo, inked on the back of my shoulder, time seems to stop.
I see a pair of black wings. It's not big, just enough to cover the right side on the back of my shoulder. It's beautiful, crafted by Zoe. I almost can't believe that such beauty is now permanently etched on my skin.
But it's not only that. I can see now why they are all staring at it in shock. It's not a regular black wings tattoo—it has gold streaks on it.
I haven't seen anyone among Black Wings members wearing this kind of tattoo. I also remember Stas explaining to me that the streaks are either silver or red.
"Impossible." Luca's voice is also shaking. His eyes are glued to my tattoo, which is now facing him.
People are whispering and talking more frantically. They're trying to gauge what it is.
"You can't have that kind of tattoo," Luca echoes in disbelief. "It's not possible."
"What do you think we're seeing now?" a random girl shouts madly at him. "You're doomed. You're going to be dead."
"Yeah," another one shouts. This time, it's a guy's voice. "We shouldn't be doing this to her. You just dug all our graves."
My head pulses with pain, and it feels like the room isspinning. I don't understand what's happening.
The people around me start to talk loudly and angrily.
Panic fills the air, and everything becomes chaos.
Words are tossed around me as they argue with each other.
Different Black Wings tattoos represent the identity of the person.
Black—regular members.
Black with red streaks—the knights, considered the leaders of Black Wings. As of now, there are three of them—Cole, Levi, and Fenrir.
Black with silver streaks—the kings. This kind of tattoo belongs to the owner of Black Wings and all of his heirs sharing the same blood. Jaxon and Kellan have it. Should their sister still live in this world, she would have the same tattoo.
Then there's another one, the kind of tattoo they rarely talk about because they have never seen one, but now they’re talking about it.
Black with gold streaks. This tattoo belongs to a person of importance who isn't related by blood to the family. They are no less important than the kings and to be protected at all costs. There's only one person who got this tattoo before, and it was Jaxon's and Kellan's mother. Her tattoo was gifted by her husband.
I grip the table on my side for support, listening to the crowd going crazy around me.
"Is that really true?" someone shouts. "What the hell is that tattoo supposed to mean?"
"Mine," a voice answers firmly, and everyone instantly turns quiet.
Goosebumps crawl on my skin. When I turn around to see the person to whom the voice belongs, my heart freezes in place.
Kellan has entered the room. He's wearing a jacket, looking like he just came back from his morning jog. The deadly look on his face is enough to make anyone cower under it.
"It means that she's fucking mine," he says in a threatening voice.
I know that he's doing this to protect me, but his expression and the way he said that make me wonder if he really means it. Whatever it is, huge relief washes over me, and I can't help the tears pooling in my eyes.
"No one touches Layla," he commands, making the silence that goes by even worse. It's like everyone doesn't even dare move a finger when he speaks. "I repeat," he hisses venomously. "No one. No one can fucking touch her."
His anger is consuming him as a whole. I can see his body shaking with rage, and that sight is enough to make me run to him.
He catches me in his arms, and I immediately bury my face in his chest, letting my tears fall freely.
I don't care. I can't contain this relief inside me.