I nodded. “Yes.”
Sebastian grinned, rolling up his sleeves. “All right, let’s do this.”
He gathered his tools, poured ink into tiny cups, and prepped the tattoo machine.
Before starting, he looked up. “Just a heads up—I prefer not to chit-chat while I work. Helps me get in the zone.”
I blinked at him.
Chitty-chat?
The zone?
Lee chuckled. “He means he focuses better in silence. He might put on headphones, but will check in with you occasionally.”
Sebastian nodded in thanks. “Yeah, man. That cool?”
Cool?
I still didn’t quite understand half the words used in this century, but I trusted Lee.
“That is… acceptable,” I said, folding my arms. “I have something to ask Lee while you are working.”
Lee arched a brow but said nothing.
Sebastian motioned to the tattoo chair, covered in crinkling paper.
I lay back, my muscles tensing. This felt eerily similar to when I was branded in Rome. But this—this was by choice.
Sebastian pressed the paper transfer against my forearm. When he peeled it away, the faint outline of a dagger remained, inked lightly onto my skin.
He picked up the tattoo machine, meeting my gaze. “You ready?”
I held his stare, solemn. “Yes.”
The machine buzzed to life, and the first sting of ink cut into my skin.
“I’m right here with you,” he murmured, slipping something over his ears.
The pain was a dull hum against my skin, insignificant compared to a tiger’s fangs tearing through flesh or a scimitar slicing across my chest.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” Lee’s voice broke the silence. He sat perched on a nearby stool, watching me.
I hesitated, glancing at Sebastian.
“He can’t hear us.” Lee tapped his ears. “Headphones.”
I exhaled. “After you time traveled me to find my brother, I always wondered what happened to my mother. Did anyone tell her what happened to me? She must have been worried. I thought you might know.”
Lee’s expression darkened. “Ah. Elizabeth. I wondered when you’d ask.”
“I never saw her again after I left England,” I said.
Lee let out a breath. “When you disappeared, I wanted to return to her. I was ready to leave everything behind. The day I was supposed to board the ship, Alina showed up at the tribe, begging for my help to defeat Balthazar. My father, the Great Chief, told me I had to follow my destiny—stand against the darkness. So instead of leaving, I wrote your mother a letter. I told her everything.” His voice softened. “I loved your mother. She was my light in a dark world. But she never wrote back. I always intended to return to her one day to explain everything in person.”
A wistful light gleamed in his eyes, reflecting a long-lost love.
My throat tightened. “What about my father? Balthazar told me he was the darkness.” I shuddered. “Is it true?”
