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I swallow through the trauma attempting to take me under. “Yeah,” I rasp.
I’d rather not elaborate further as to why I have a sword wound on my chest. Or why I want to cover it up.
He gives me a soft smile, resting on his stool as he stares at the stencil on my skin. “I really love the design we came up with,” he hums, pressing the tattoo machine to my flesh and begins with my beautiful tattoo. “You know what the key represents?”
I smile for the first time in probably a year. “Freedom,” I whisper, staring at the ceiling as he continues on the piece.
Even though my tattoo covers the scar, my insecurities about it hold me hostage. My monster forces me in low cut tops and slinky dresses so I’m playing the part he’s selected. Whenever I can get away with it, I cover the tattoo and scar with my corset for my own peace of mind.
He didn’t use me. Not sexually, at least. He carved his mark deep into my skin, marking me as his. His little snake. The person he sent out to do his dirty work. It’s a permanent wound that doesn’t bleed. A reminder of what I did on that night three years ago.
For the remainder of my six month stint in hell, I leaned on the beautiful tunes of the violin that played every night at six p.m. sharp. Those tunes eased away the lessons of my days. Some harder than most.
The door to my small holding cell buzzes, swinging open. My heart pounds with unease as a man I’ve never met before waltzes in with his hands in his pockets. I immediately sit up, examining his swagger.
You can spot a lie from the way a man walks, Little Snake. Look in his eyes. Watch the crooked grin.
“Journey West,” the man says, coming to sit right beside me.
He’s attempting to seem less intimidating by getting on my level and squishing his tall frame down in the chair.
Amateur.
“Yes?” I question without really confirming.
He smiles. It’s supposed to exude warmth and understanding. But it doesn’t. This man means me harm in any way possible. Whoever he is.
“I’m Detective Alexander,” he says, sticking his hand out for me to shake. Begrudgingly, I take his hand, gently shaking it for the sake of fake politeness.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, taking my hand back and wiping it down my leg.
“You’ve gotten yourself into quite the pickle here, haven’t you? Leighton LeMaster’s car,” he says with a whistle, nesting back into the seat. “That was a big fish to fry.”
Silence.
I won’t give him a single word of confirmation or time to make me confess my crime. So, I cross my arms and tilt my head, continuing the silence between us. The bulbs buzz above our heads, filling the room with their hums.
And I don’t say a single word.
He cocks his head, running his eyes over me. “Nothing to say for yourself?”
I huff, sitting back on the bench and shutting my eyes. Not a single fuck was given. Maybe. Okay, internally my heart is racing, my palms sweaty, and I kind of even want some of my mom’s spaghetti. But I continue to keep my lips sealed, listening to his breaths.
Choppy. Heaving. Irritation is rising inside him. He’s letting his emotions take hold when he should be calm. Good.
“You’re going to go down for a long time, Miss West.” I peek open an eye, sizing him up. He grins. He thinks he’s won something special. “Destruction of property is a pretty hefty charge. Especially when you did it to the governor’s son. Governor LeMaster is on his way right now. Hell hath no fury.” He clicks his tongue, spouting off his lies like they’ll embed in my skin and take root.
Not a chance.
I shrug. Bring on the governor. I have a way scarier man in my corner probably on his way now.
“Silence, huh? How about we put you into a nice cell for the night and let you think it over? I have the perfect roommate for you, too.”
I shrug. Literally can’t he take a hint? I’m not saying anything. I’d rather him throw me in there with a new roommate.
He sighs loudly, running his hands through his perfectly styled black hair. “It’s a shame, Miss West. Such a shame a beautiful girl like yourself is taking the blame for something you didn’t do.” His eyes scan his nail beds nonchalantly. He wants me to take the bait and ask him questions.
I huff again, shaking my head.
