Inked Secrets (18+)

Chapter 2.

G E O R G I A ' S / P O V

As the men close in around me, their intimidating figures casting long shadows in the dimming light, I feel a surge of panic rise within me. But I push it down, steeling myself against the fear, refusing to let them see my vulnerability.

"What do you want?" I demand, my voice steady despite the tremble in my limbs.

The man at the forefront steps forward, his eyes glinting with malice. "You know damn well what we want," he sneers, his tone dripping with disdain.

I square my shoulders, meeting his gaze head-on. "I told you, I don't do teardrop tattoos. End of story."

He scoffs, a cruel smile twisting his lips. "You and your precious morals," he mocks, his voice laced with scorn. "But I'm offering you good money, Georgia. What's a little ink to you, anyway?"

Anger boils within me at his callous disregard for my principles, my sense of right and wrong. "It's not about the money," I snap, my voice rising with indignation. "I have standards, and I won't compromise them for anyone."

The man's smile falters, replaced by a scowl of frustration. "You think you're better than us, don't you?" he growls, taking another menacing step forward.

I hold my ground, refusing to back down in the face of his intimidation. "I think I have integrity," I retort, my voice unwavering. "And I won't be bullied into doing something I know is wrong."

For a moment, the air crackles with tension, the standoff between us palpable. But then, with a muttered curse, the man steps back, his companions following suit. "Fine," he snarls, his voice dripping with venom. "But mark my words, Georgia. You haven't heard the last of us."

And with that ominous warning hanging in the air, they melt into the shadows, disappearing into the night like phantoms.

As the adrenaline slowly ebbs from my veins, I sag against the wall, the weight of the encounter settling heavily upon me. But beneath the fear and uncertainty, there's a flicker of pride—a reminder that I stood my ground, refusing to be cowed by their threats.

With a deep breath, I push myself away from the wall and set off down the street, determined to put the encounter behind me and focus on the road ahead.

But as I walk, a nagging sense of unease lingers in the back of my mind, he knows my name.

My mind races with a thousand thoughts, each more frantic than the last. The encounter with those men replaying in my mind like a nightmare on loop.

Should I call the police? The thought gnaws at me, a nagging sense of unease clawing at the edges of my consciousness. But as I reach for my phone, a flicker of doubt stays my hand.

What if they come back before the police arrive? What if they retaliate against me for involving the authorities? The questions swirl in my mind, leaving me paralyzed with indecision.

But then, with a shaky breath, I force myself to focus. I may not be able to control the actions of those men, but I can take steps to protect myself.

I pull out my phone, fingers trembling as I open the app for my security cameras. With a sense of relief, I confirm that they're still functioning, the live feed showing the empty streets outside my studio.

I make a mental note to keep a close eye on the footage throughout the night, ready to act at the first sign of trouble.

As I continue on my way, the darkness pressing in around me, I'm tempted to call Bella for reassurance. But then I remember the late hour, the worry that would surely cloud her voice if she knew what had happened.