Page 103 of The Tattoo Artist

“I told him you would swear three times,” Adonis explains, tucking the note into his pocket and casually settling onto the kitchen counter.

I narrow my eyes at them, trying to make sense of their bizarre behaviour. “What are you guys even doing here?” I question, my patience wearing thin.

“We thought you were still in your heartbreak phase, but I think we were mistaken,” Adonis replies with a smirk, his tone teasing.

I scoff, “well, as you can see, I’m doing just fine,” I respond, opening the fridge to take out a bottle of water.

“Oh, trust me, we can see that.” Adonis chuckles out.

“Oh, good morning scratcher.” I turn around, Atlas leaning his elbow onto the island counter. Alexandra comes into view, with a raised brow.

“Scratcher?” She asks, sitting down onto a stall.

“You ruined my older brothers back with those claws of yours, scratcher.” Alex shoots me a look, a smile spreading across her face.

“Had to mark him one way.” She whispers.

Oh, you did, did you?

We were stuck in the mundane ritual of food shopping, a task I despised with every fibre of my being. I couldn’t fathom why Alexandra enjoyed it so much, but if it made her happy, I had no choice but to endure it.

I watched as she tossed a couple of items into the basket I held, her words breaking through my silent reverie. “You’re going to get lines if you keep frowning like that,” she remarked, her voice light but teasing as she added packets of pasta to our growing collection.

Hang on.

Hang the fuck on.

No, I must be overthinking.

I needed to respond, and quickly, before she noticed the turmoil churning within me.

“I’ll take my chances with the lines,” I retort, attempting to mask my unease with a smirk as I watched her walk away to fetch a few more items. My phone vibrates, I shift my basket into the other hand and slide out my phone from my back pocket.

Only to see a message from Maria.

Maria (4:59pm): did you know that Luca go out from prison six hours ago?

Luca got out from prison.

Why the fuck is he out from prison? He got a life sentence.

I look around the empty aisle.

My heart pounding into my chest, a squeaking sound rings into my ears as I drop the basket.

Looking for Alexandra.

She is nowhere to be seen, I rush down the rest of the aisles, looking for her-calling out her name. “Alex!” I yell out, my voice echoing through the supermarket, drawing curious glances from passersby. But amidst the sea of faces, she's nowhere to be found.

In a moment of desperation, I spot a familiar figure and reach out to grab her arm, only to be met with a startled glance from a stranger. “Sorry... sorry,” I mutter hastily, releasing my grip and continuing my frantic search.

And there she is, standing amidst the canned tomatoes, her presence a beacon of reassurance in the midst of my mayhem. “There you are,” I breathe out, relief flooding through me as I approach her. She turns her head at the sound of my voice, a soft smile gracing her lips.

“Here I am—what’s wrong?” She inquires, concern etched in the furrow of her brows as I reach out to cup her face gently in my hands, pulling her close against my chest.

“Ares, your heart is going crazy,” she observes, her voice laced with worry as she feels the rapid beat against her own chest.

I can’t lose you again.

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