The North Star | COMPLETED ✔️

Chapter 27 ~ Searching

Chapter 27

By the time I exited the bathroom, the sky had darkened to a mixture of blacks, deep grays, and purples. A full moon cast its light over the clouds, creating shadows so dimensional they seemed unreal, like a painting. I stared out the window for a moment, enjoying the view, letting myself feel the fire cascading over the skin of my shoulder. This moment, this day, this night, these people, I'd never forget, not one part of it.

My chest seemed lighter than before, almost... cleansed. The tears I'd shed left me rested, as if I'd been so full of emotions, the purge had released a weight I'd unknowingly carried with me.

The brand was gone, no longer a reminder, only a memory. I could carry the memory, I would add it to the others, buried deep in the recesses of my mind. Eventually, maybe, it wouldn't haunt me.

It was surreal to have goals, let alone to accomplish them. I was a licensed tattoo artist, with a job at a tattoo shop, a place to live, and good people who actually seemed to care about what happened to me. It was a lot to take in, unbelievable, but it was real.

For the first time in my life, I could be excited about the future. It both thrilled and terrified me. It was thrilling to be able to hope, to dream, to have something in this world to look forward to, but also terrifying to have something to lose. I couldn't let them find me. I couldn't lose this, not now.

With a deep, shuddering breath, I shook off my darker thoughts and made my way to return the gun and clean up the new piece.

Bard was still beside the Camaro when I stepped through the door. He'd brought a lawn chair over, and was sitting with a beer in his hand. It seemed he knew whatever I'd been doing was personal, that I'd needed space. I'd never appreciated his perceptiveness more.

His gaze whipped to me the moment the door swung shut, and his eyes seemed to take in everything, settling on the black band fully on display. Something in his expression made my skin tingle.

Surprisingly, when he stood and moved towards me, I didn't run to escape him. I needed him to know, to see for himself, that I wasn't one of them. His parents, all the pain caused by the club, that wasn't me.

His slow cautious steps resembled a man approaching something wild. Each foot hit the ground in a careful heel-toe movement, allowing me plenty of time to choose to walk away. When he'd closed the gap between us, he didn't speak. His grease blackened hand gently wrapped around my wrist and lifted my arm. His other touched the place just above his grip and trailed a path up to the edge of the new art. The feel of him lit fire to my skin, but it was different than the fire on my shoulder. It didn't burn. It warmed.

Each breath grew more shallow than the last as nerves tightened my chest.

"I like this," he said, each word low and smooth.

I nodded and swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. "Thank you."

Bard's eyes met mine. "Never again." He gently squeezed my wrist. There was a promise in the statement. As much as I would have loved to believe the pipe dream, it was too unrealistic. Bard couldn't protect me; no one could.

"Never again," I agreed, taking a much needed step backwards. Never again meant just that. No men, not even this one. "I've gotta go clean it up."