Page 46 of The Tattoo Artist

Tears welled up in my eyes as I realise the betrayal that had been lurking beneath the surface. I cannot believe I never noticed; how could I have been so blind? So stupid! So bloody stupid!

Now for one last thing to support it.

“Raise your shirt now!” I almost screamed; my voice choked with emotion as I try to hold back tears. “Raise your shirt Ares! I’m not joking!”

Ares hesitates, his eyes searching mine for understanding.

But he didn’t find it.

Because what was there to understand?

Slowly, he complies, lifting the hem of his shirt to reveal a patch on his abdomen, confirming my worst fear. Shock washes over me, leaving me feeling weak and unsteady as I stumble back.

It’s him.

“Who are you?” I whisper, my voice trembling as I tried to process the truth. All the warnings, the signs I had missed - it was because Ares was Diávolos all along.

His eyes. How have I not noticed his eyes!

He dropped his shirt and looks at me; his expression filled with a mix of guilt. “I think you already know that don’t you?”

“You disgust me,” I spat out, my emotions overwhelming me. With every step he took forward, I took backwards until I felt my back colliding against the door. He caged me in with his arms, his proximity making me feel trapped and vulnerable.

“You didn’t seem disgusted when I had my tongue down your throat, did you, Angel?” He retorted, his words dripping with bitterness. “You didn’t seem disgusted when you looked at me the night at the window, the way you smiled.”

His comment felt like a slap in the face, intensifying the pain and betrayal I felt. Anger surges within me, and I push against his chest, trying to create some distance between us.

“That was before I knew who you really were,” I said, my voice laced with hurt and anger. “You played with my feelings; you manipulated me.”

“Manipulated you?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “You make me laugh Alexandra Jones.”

“Stop acting like this…”

I felt torn and conflicted as Ares’ finger gently grazed my chin, tipping my head back to face him. His touch, once filled with tenderness, now felt like a cruel reminder of the deception he had woven around us. Why did I fall for the wrong man? I didn’t fear him-but now I’m not so sure. Maybe it was because he killed Clarks father in cold blood? Maybe it was because he lied to me this entire time.

But I couldn’t halt the tears cascading down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry, Angel. I can’t stand to see you cry,” his voice, soft and tender, barely audible over the tumult of my emotions.

His words pierce through the chaos in my mind, a bittersweet reminder of the love we once shared, now tainted by the betrayal that threatens to consume me.

“Stop crying!” I choke onto my tears.

“Are you going to hurt me?” I whisper, my voice trembling with fear and uncertainty. “Now that I know.” Ares’ gaze softens, his features betraying a hint of regret as he shakes his head.

“No, Angel. I would never hurt you,” he assures me, his touch gentle as he brushes away my tears. “I would protect you with my life.” Can I trust him again, knowing who he truly is?

His lips meet mine, tasting the saltiness of my tears, I find myself torn between the love I still harbour for him and the uncertainty of our future. “Did you kill Mr. Johnson?” I question him.

He steps away, and heads towards the tattoo station where his back now faces me. I pull away from the door.

“I did.” He responds, effortlessly.

With no hesitation.

No signs of regret.

How could someone just kill and not even have a bit of remorse?

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