Page 61 of Where Sinners Repent

The man’s guttural scream brings me back to the present, reminding me that I’m not toying with soft, inked skin. It offends me.

“The Kavanagh brothers,” he sobs. “They want the dock. They want everything you ship. They want...” He wheezes, clutching at the bleeding wound as if he can stop the warm liquid from oozing out. “They want you ruined.”

The man doesn’t realise what is happening until it’s too late. I grip his skull and twist. His eyes widen at the last second before he falls to the ground in a heap.

Ruined.

Everything falls quiet again, and I prowl towards the most recent shipment. Three containers in particular.

Each one opens with a creak. Each one completely empty.

By the time I reach the third one, I already know that the contents will be missing. It’s confirmed when I step inside the space. Eyes adjusting to the absolute nothingness that awaits me. None of the legal stock. None of the illegal stock.

All of it…gone.

Taken by people who see us as weak.

“Fuck,” I whisper, running my hand through my hair.

Ruined...

Chapter 16

Roxy

Every call I make, my head throbs just that little harder. Setting up a brand new phone, just to endless calls to my contacts wasn’t how I imagined I’d be spending my day.

Turns out, slowly taking apart the wreckage of my business is no easy feat. Maddy’s old room has now turned into my cave, with papers scattered all over the bed. Flopping down and crinkling them all, I sigh.

I’ve spent all evening calling my clients to gently cancel their appointments. Indefinitely. The word is out about my ruined studio.

Some took it well, some were concerned. But some acted like total cunts, cussing me out as if I planned this bullshit. I blocked those assholes. They can go fuck themselves next time they want a tattoo.

It’s not like I asked for my entire world to be flipped upside down and fucked sideways. Sorry, dickhead, you're right. Your tattoo is just as important as my safety. I’ll see you in five! Fuckers.

I peek over at the charcoal box that holds my brand-new tattoo machine. One that I’ve been too pussy to even open properly. I’m scared that if I touch it, it’ll break. Or someone will come and stomp on it.

Things I love usually end up ruined.

And I love that tattoo machine.

Huffing, I scrub my hands over my face and groan.

Kai has been avoiding me. Always watching like a shadow, but never from where I can see. Never crossing any lines that need to be crossed. My body is all strung tight, just waiting for something that never happens. That, and the impending war in the city’s underworld right now. No big deal. I swear, I’m getting a stress ulcer.

Which is barely soothed by all those fucking client calls. I just have one more call...

They probably won’t answer anyway. It’s getting late.

With that, I give them a go and dial the building owner.

I fidget with my pretty nails, listening to the rings.

“Hello, this is Havenport Agency, how may I help you?” a sweet voice coos.

Jumping upright, I clear my throat. Not expecting anyone to answer, I didn’t prepare what I was going to say.

“Oh, hi... hello. This is Roxy Kavanagh. I rent the building down on High Street.”