Page 1 of Bleed

Chapter

One

SIX MONTHS AGO

The bell above the door chimes as I shove it open, a gust of chilly autumn air rudely smacking me in the face before I even step outside.

“Later, Ronnie!” I call over my shoulder absently, only half-expecting him to hear me over the dull thump of music pulsing through the tattoo shop.

“Whoa, hold up,” he immediately calls back, his gruff voice muffled behind the thick curtain at the rear.

I pause mid-stride, torn between professional obligation and the urge to make a run for it.

It’s been a long ass day. I was on set by noon for a print modeling shoot, then barely had time to change and scarf down a cup of instant ramen before clocking in here and firing up my tattoo gun. Four back-to-back sessions later, my exhaustion is bone-deep.

All I want to do right now is to crawl into bed and pass the fuck out… but considering this place is my most consistent source of income, I should probably find out what my boss needs, first.

I reluctantly turn around, the door swinging shut behind me with a dull thud. The curtain at the back of the shop rustles, then Ronnie’s bald head pokes through, his steely gray eyes locking on mine.

“Give me five minutes and I’ll walk you home,” he offers.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it,” I sigh, waving him off as I pivot for the door again.

“C’mon, just wait,” he presses. “You know it’s dangerous to walk the streets at this hour. There could be vampires lurking.”

“Vamps don’t scare me,” I scoff, glancing back at him with a smirk. “I bite, too.”

He gives me a withering look that basically amounts to ‘you’re gonna be the death of me, kid’.

“Bex…”

“Goodbye!” I sing-song, cutting him off before he starts in on one of his lectures by shoving the door open and slipping out into the night.

The cold bites at my exposed skin the moment I step onto the sidewalk. I suck in a breath and pull my leather jacket tighter around myself, boots hitting damp pavement as I start the two-block walk to my apartment. It’s in a shitty part of town, but so is the shop, so at least my commute’s efficient. Not like I could afford anything better anyway.

Not yet.

I’ve been grinding my whole life, taking whatever jobs I can stack on top of each other to claw my way up from the bottom. Lately, that’s consisted of tattooing in the evenings, taking modeling gigs whenever they come through, and snatching up side hustles when they don’t. It’s not glamorous, but it’s momentum. Momentum means I’m getting somewhere.

Financial freedom isn’t some far-off fantasy I tell myself to sleep better at night. It’s close– close enough that I can almost feel it brushing my fingertips if I just keep saying yes whenever opportunities show up.

It’s pushing two a.m., and there’s a haunted atmosphere to the city at this hour. The streets are quiet, the shadows are thick, and it always feels like somebody’s watching from the cover of darkness. The air’s still damp from the storm that rolled through earlier tonight, puddles on the asphalt reflecting warped slices of neon and streetlight. I keep my head up and my senses sharp, more out of habit than fear since I’ve always had to watch my own back.

Nothing lunges out of the dark.

Nobody tries to drag me off into an alley.

Boring.

My building looms at the end of the block– an old warehouse someone tried to make trendy a decade ago and then promptly gave up on halfway through. The lofts are full of exposed ductwork, concrete floors, and giant windows that leak heat in the winter and trap it in the summer. The rent’s cheap, though, and that’s all that really matters.

I slide my key into the lock and shove the door open, the smell of weed and Chinese takeout hitting me immediately when I step into the warm, dimly lit space. My roommates are exactly where I expect them to be– curled up together on the couch with the soft glow of the TV flickering over them.

“Hey,” Alaia murmurs sleepily, lifting her head from Devin’s thick shoulder just enough to glance over at me. “How was work?”

“Slow,” I reply, shrugging out of my jacket and tossing it onto the hook by the door. “Two appointments, two walk-ins. All of them stingy as hell on tips.”

“Lame,” Devin sighs, absently twirling a strand of Alaia’s blonde hair around his finger. “Glad I didn’t go in.”