Page 10 of Savage Hate
Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a wad of cash, handing it to me. “We like the pizza place on the corner. Get yourself something, too.” I take the cash, opening my mouth to say thanks, but he continues. “When you get back, the garbage cans out back really need to be hosed off.”
As he walks away, it takes everything inside of me—every ounce of willpower—not to tell him to fuck off.
Instead, I think of Wright.
The whole way to the pizza place, I think of how he ruined everything by sleeping with his assistant, and for the rest of the night, I have to actively hold the tears back.
seven
Jude
I study Lennon as she types on the computer, my gaze flitting between her and my client. Another day, another fucking butterfly tattoo. I swear to God, half the population must have a butterfly permanently etched onto their skin at the rate we tattoo the insect on people.
“I like it,” the woman before me says. She’s beautiful, with dark hair and hazel eyes. Too young for me, but it’s hard not to notice. It doesn’t matter. I have not and will never mix business with pleasure. It’s something we all agreed upon when we opened Savage Ink.
Damon and I were originally here just to support Silas, and we wanted to get the shop up and running before returning to Boston. But that plan is looking like it’s happening less and less every day.
We’ve been in Greythorn for two years. Our time spent in Boston is hazy now, and even though we go back a couple of times a month to check on Ignite Ink, the sister studio to Savage, I can’t help but miss the bustle of the city. Being back in the town we all grew up in hasn’t been thrilling, but we’re here for Silas. We’re a unit, in more ways than one.
I glance over at Damon as I get my client seated comfortably in the chair and we go over what will happen. His eyes connect with mine, and he nods once in understanding. She’s a skin virgin—what we call people new to tattoos. Some people cry, some people don’t seem affected at all, some people grit their teeth… and some people experience pleasure. It’s one of the reasons I love inking people. I like to see the spectrum of reactions, because it can go any number of ways.
It’s probably why I only have one tattoo. I’m not a sadomasochist for no reason.
My gaze falls back to Lennon as she squints at the screen. So far, she’s taken everything Silas has thrown at her in stride. The bathroom bullshit, the pizza, the garbage cans. She returned from out back looking green in the face, but she didn’t say anything—just washed her hands and got back to work. Maybe it’s better to ease her in, anyway.
I’m trying to find her weak spot. Her fatal flaw.
Because when I do, I am going to expose it.
And I am going to break her.
For everything she did.
To me.
To Damon.
But mostly to Silas.
I smile when I think of what that pretty little face will look like once I do—oncewedo. Because that’s our plan.
Push Lennon Rose as far as she’ll go.
Beware the fury of a patient man, and beware the wrath of three.
eight
Lennon
Ten Years Ago
I pucker my lips in the mirror, smacking them a few times despite the sticky, clear lip gloss. Mindy is getting ready next to me, and music plays from her iPod as we sing along. I’ve had an ache in my chest all day. An overarching, hollow sense of dread and disappointment. I glance at the homemade snacks Mindy’s mom placed out for us, wondering if she or Mindy noticed how many I’d eaten. Swallowing thickly, I continue staring at my reflection, wondering who will be at the party tonight.
“I heard Noah was going to ask you out tonight,” Mindy says, looking at me with a huge grin.
I laugh. “Yeah, right. Like he thinks he has a chance.” Secretly, I hope he does, but I’d never admit that out loud. We’ve been dancing around each other for months.
She shakes her head as she dabs on bright pink eyeshadow. “I still can’t believe you’ll be in Cambridge while I go to Greythorn University.”
