The seal tears loose with a wet sting.
Fluid slips free immediately—ink-dark, tinged red, running warm down my thigh and onto the sheets.
My stomach turns.
“What the fuck—”
Maksim doesn’t even flinch.
“Don’t worry,” he says, maddeningly calm. “I have another one.”
I look up at him in disbelief.
“Another one?”
“Another film.”
I look down at what he’s done. It’s small. Black. Professional.
In cyrillic.
My head snaps to him. “Is that your fucking name?”
“Da.”
“Wait,anotherfilm? Did you what? Bring a tattoo gun with you? How fucking long did you plan this?”
“Since I knew you weren’t temporary.”
He says it immediately, his eyes locked on mine.
For a second, all I can do is stare at him.
Temporary.
Like that explains anything.
Like deciding I mattered gave him the right to put his name into my skin while I was passed out.
My finger tightens on the trigger.
“Not temporary?” My voice cracks. “So you marked me like property?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation. No shame.
Then he touches the raw letters over his chest. “And now you’re part of me too.”
“That is not your decision to make!” I scream it, voice ricocheting off the hotel walls. “You waited until I was out and you did it anyway—”
“Yes.”
That slams into me harder than any excuse would have.
Not confusion. Not denial. Not some twisted attempt to soften it.
Just yes.
