Nik scoffs. “He doesn’t just work here. Heownsthe place.”
My head whips toward Axel. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” he grins. “Come see what I built.”
The smell of antiseptic, ink, and something faintly citrusy hits me the second we walk in. It’s warm and a little chaotic, but weirdly comforting. People move with purpose. Every wall is lined with art ready to find a permanent home.
Axel’s pride is unmistakable. “Every inch of this place? Mine. Designs, layout, even the playlist—except when Cal hijacks the speaker.”
He fist bumps an older guy who’s mid-tattoo.
This place is clearly his second home. Machines buzz. Someone’s laughing. The whole place pulses with energy. It feels likehim. Wild. Loyal. Alive.
We pass more clients and artists before Axel swings open a half-door and leads us behind the counter.
“You ever get ink?” he asks casually, but he tracks my every move.
I nod. “Just one.”
He stops. “Seriously?” He scans my body like he’s trying to find it.
Nik chuckles beside us. “Where?”
My mouth quirks. “I’d have to take my pants off to show you.”
Axel blinks. “Oh.”
He grabs my hand. “Back office. Now.”
I laugh, heat crawling up my neck, but follow. Nik trails behind, quieter, but no less curious.
The office is clean and surprisingly minimal. Sketchbooks are stacked on the shelves, an industrial desk sits in the corner, and a worn leather couch lines the wall that probably has a hundred stories of its own.
Axel leans against the door once it shuts, arms crossed. “Alright, Princess. Drop those pants.”
“What? You’re not gonna buy me dinner first?” I roll my eyes, but my heart is racing.
I toe off my boots, undo my jeans, and slowly shimmy them down to my knees. I turn slightly, lifting the edge of my panties to reveal the ink etched along my outer hip and thigh.
Nik exhales softly.
Axel steps closer, and I swear he stops breathing.
Medusa and her serpents snake around my curves. And not just any Medusa.HisMedusa. The one he drew for me in high school. She’s fierce, wild, defiant… with snakes for hair, fangs bared, crown crooked like a queen who earned every scar.
“You recognize her?” I ask.
He nods, voice barely above a whisper. “I drew that.”
“I know.” My voice cracks a little. “I kept it. After everything… I wanted something that reminded me of who I was. Who I wanted to be.”
Axel kneels in front of me, not touching, but just looking, like it’s something sacred. LikeIam.
Nik approaches. His fingers graze the unmarked part of my thigh, slow and reverent.
“You wear her well,” he murmurs.
“I needed a permanent memory,” I admit. “When everything else felt fake. I just wanted to remember…us.”
