Chapter 7: Tattoo

"YOU BITCH!"

Matt jolted up, but Luca shoved him back down with ease, his grip firm, almost amused.

"What are you gonna do? Bite us?" Luca sneered, a sadistic smirk tugging at his lips as he let out a low chuckle.

He crouched slightly, tilting his head as he examined Matt like a predator sizing up wounded prey.

"It's a damn shame, really. You got your little brothers killed… all because of your hunger for power." His tone was mockingly sympathetic before twisting into something darker. "And poor Aunt Rosalyn."

Matt’s nostrils flared at the mention of his mother, his breathing ragged.

"You better not fucking hurt her!" he roared, straining against Luca’s hold.

Haden rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply as he cocked his gun.

"Aunt Rosalyn is fine. Safe. And she'll stay that way," he said, his voice laced with irritation. If it were up to him, no one in this family would be breathing. But he made a promise to his mother—so Aunt Rosalyn was off-limits.

He twirled the gun lazily in his hand before leveling it at Matt.

"Now that everything’s played out, I have to ask… was it worth it?" Haden mused, his lips curling slightly. "Any regrets?"

Luca shot him a look as he twirled the gun. Haden chuckled under his breath. Scary ass.

Matt lifted his head, eyes locking onto Haden’s, and then a smirk—a vile, twisted smirk—crawled onto his lips.

"The only regret I have? Not fucking the shit out of that pretty little black bitch of yours."

Haden’s nostrils flared, his jaw tightening. Without hesitation, he pistol-whipped Matt across the face. Hard.

Matt grunted, spitting blood onto the floor. A tooth followed.

Yet, he still grinned, his tongue running over his bloody gums.

"I could tell she was tight the way her little cunt wrapped around my fingers. I wanted to take my time. That was my mistake."

Silence.

Haden didn’t say a word. He just lifted his gun. Slow. Methodical. The barrel aimed directly at Matt’s head.

Matt chuckled to himself, looking down. He knew this was it. But he had to take one last dig.

"You can kill me, cousin, but your sweet little bitch will never forget me. I’ll always be in her head. My mark will always be on her hip. Every time you undress her… you and her will think of me."

His laughter—cruel and guttural—echoed through the room.

Then—

BANG.

A gut-wrenching scream tore from Matt’s throat.

Haden hadn’t gone for the head. Not yet.

He’d shot him in the dick.

Matt thrashed, his body convulsing in pain as blood pooled beneath him. Tears streamed down his face.

"Oops. My arm slipped," Haden said flatly, his voice void of emotion.

Luca burst out laughing.

Matt gasped through the pain, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fuck… you." He strained, his body trembling. "You can both go to hell."

Haden chuckled darkly, stepping closer. He crouched, pressing the barrel of the gun between Matt’s eyes.

He leaned in.

"I'll see you there." His voice was a whisper, cold and final. "Say hi to Uncle and the fam, will you?"

Then—

BAM.

.

.

.

Haden

"Come on, tesoro, it won’t be that bad."

"Absolutely not, Haden! You know I have a low pain tolerance."

For the past thirty minutes, I had been going back and forth with Ella about getting a tattoo. She was convinced it would be unbearable, but it really wasn’t that bad.

"Ella, baby, look at me." I gestured toward my ink-covered arms. "You see all these tattoos? I promise, it’s not as bad as you think."

"He’s lying. It’s gonna hurt like a bitch."

Micah strolled into the living room, plopping onto the couch with a bowl of popcorn, a smirk playing on his lips.

I shot him a glare. "Why are you in my house?"

"Because you gave me a key," he deadpanned, popping another kernel into his mouth.

I held out my hand. "Give them back."

Micah’s mouth dropped open, a few pieces of popcorn tumbling onto his lap. Behind me, Ella giggled.

"Are you shitting me? I’ll ask next time, damn. I love coming here—it’s comfy."

I rolled my eyes as Ella burst into laughter at the sheer look of betrayal on Micah’s face.

"Micah, give me the damn keys."

Micah pouted, grumbling under his breath as he dug into his back pocket. "Whatever." He tossed them at me, and I caught them easily, shaking my head with a smirk.

Then, instead of pocketing them, I turned to Ella and placed the keys in her palm.

She blinked up at me, confusion flickering in her honey-colored eyes. "Why are you giving these to me?"

"You might as well have them. This is your home too."

She sighed, shaking her head. "Haden, we’ve talked about this already."

I exhaled, exasperated. "I don’t get why you don’t want to live here. You practically do anyway. Most of your stuff is here."

And I wasn’t exaggerating. Half her closet was in my room, and the rest was on campus.

"I know, but I want to live on my own for a while," she explained. "For the days when we get on each other's nerves, and I just need space. And, like I told you, we can live together once we’re married."

I frowned, sliding my hands onto her hips and pulling her closer.

"One, even when you get on my nerves, I still want you close. And two, that’s not a problem at all—we can get married today."

I leaned in for a kiss, but she quickly pecked my lips before pulling away with a chuckle.

"Haden, stop playing."

"I’m not playing."

She studied my face for a second. Then, her eyes widened slightly.

She realized I wasn’t playing.

"Haden, we are too young to get married!"

I shrugged. "No, we’re not."

"Boy is down bad," Micah muttered under his breath.

"Shut up," I muttered, shooting Mica a quick glare.

He only chuckled, shoving another handful of popcorn into his mouth like the menace he was.

Ignoring him, I grabbed Ella’s hand and gently pulled her up the stairs, leading her into my bedroom. I closed the door behind us, sealing us in our own space, away from the noise of the outside world.

"You’re going to be my wife regardless," I said smoothly. "But we’ve veered way off-topic."

I turned to her, my voice softer now. "Look, tesoro, I know you don’t like pain. But I also know you don’t like that mark on you."

Her gaze dropped to the floor. "I hate it." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight in it was deafening.

I knew she did. She covered it up with every outfit she wore, trying to erase it from sight, but I could see it haunted her. And as much as I despised admitting it, my cousin had been right about one thing—that damn mark he left on her. His initials burned into her skin like a brand, a cruel reminder of what she endured.

I’d caught her more than once, locked in the bathroom, crying softly. She thought I didn’t hear, but I always did. Every muffled sob, every shaky breath. And every time, I fought the urge to barge in and hold her, to take the pain away.

But I knew—when she locked the door, she needed space.

So I gave it to her.

I’d sit outside, back against the wall, waiting. Just listening. Because the moment she was ready, the second she opened that door—she always ran straight into my arms.

And I would hold her.

No words, no questions. Just silence and the steady rhythm of her breathing against my chest. She didn’t need me to fix it. She just needed me there. And I’d always oblige. Because there weren’t many things in this world that I cared about. But Ella—my Ella—she was my world. She was my left lung. Without her, I wouldn’t be able to breathe.

I pulled her close now, and she melted into me, resting her head against my chest. We stood there in silence, wrapped up in each other, no words needed.

Then, after a moment, she spoke. "If I get a tattoo, I want an elephant."

A small chuckle escaped me. "Okay, tesoro. Why an elephant?"

She tilted her head slightly, her voice steady. "Because they represent strength and good fortune, as well as health and happiness."

I nodded, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Sounds perfect, bambina. Elephants also represent sensitivity, wisdom, stability, loyalty, intelligence, peace, reliability, and determination."

I pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. "All of which… are characteristics you already possess."

Her lips parted slightly, her honey-brown eyes glimmering with something unspoken.

And in that moment, I knew—no matter what, no matter how long it took—I would spend the rest of my life making sure she never felt anything but safe in her own skin again.

The biggest smile spread across her face, and my heart swelled instantly. She had no idea—no idea—of the joy she brought into my life.

People were always surprised to see us still together, like they expected me to outgrow her, like our love was just a phase.

But I was serious.

I always had been. Even as a kid, I knew. Ella was it for me. The only woman I would ever need. No one could satisfy me the way she could—mind, body, soul.

Maybe that’s why, back in high school, I jumped from girl to girl. None of them were her. None of them could quiet the hunger that burned inside me for her.

They tried. God knows they tried.

Then came college.

Girls threw themselves at me, desperate for my attention. I never faltered. Not once.

My Ella was all I needed. Not just because she was the sweetest person I knew (and tasted), but because she was the most breathtakingly beautiful girl I had ever laid my eyes on. And I don’t say that just because she’s mine.

No—Ella was the kind of gorgeous that made people stop and stare. And the crazy part? She didn’t even realize it.

She never noticed the way heads turned when she walked into a room.

My teammates thought I was insane for staying in a long-distance relationship my freshman year. They’d laugh, say, "She can't be that bad, man."

Then they saw her.

Not a single word after that.

A few guys still tried their luck—some of them even my own teammates. That ended quickly. But the truth was, Ella never entertained them. She didn’t have to.

Because for all her softness, all her kindness, Ella’s loyalty was unmatched. For that, she would never want for anything.

Work? Don’t work? It didn’t matter. I would always make sure she had everything she ever needed. Everything she ever wanted.

I was pulled from my thoughts when her soft voice called my name.

"Yes, baby?" I murmured, gently pushing a stray curl behind her ear.

Her honeyed eyes flickered up at me, hesitant yet determined. "You'll stay with me the entire time I get it, right?"

A slow smile tugged at my lips before I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to hers.

"Of course."

She exhaled deeply, arms wrapping around my waist as she buried herself in me.

"Okay." A pause. Then, with quiet resolve—"Call your guy up."