Page 47 of The Tattoo Artist

“Why?” I manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He settles down onto the chair, turning to face me, and a chilling calmness envelope him. “How about you tell me why you think I killed him?” He counters, leaning against the back of the chair.

His response startled me, leaving me momentarily at a loss for words. But I knew I couldn’t let him deflect the question.

“I don’t know why you would do such a thing,” I said, trying to steady my voice. Ares glances down at my lips.

“Your lip is bleeding.”

Confused, I tap my lip with my finger, but there is no blood.

Then our eyes lock, and I saw the truth reflected in his gaze. Suddenly, everything became clear, and the pieces fell into place. My heart races as I whisper in shock, “you killed him because of me?”

“For you,” he replies, his voice low and intense. “I killed him for you.”

My mind struggles to comprehend the weight of his words. “I never told you to do that,” I protest.

“Well, I did,” Ares said, standing up, his body tense with emotion. “You can judge me all you want, but no one touches you unless they don’t want their fucking hands attached to their body anymore.” I was torn between feeling protected by his actions and frightened by the darkness that had consumed him. The depth of his feelings for me was undeniable, but the lengths he was willing to go to protect me were chilling.

“Killing someone is not the answer,” I allege, “it’s not the way to protect me Ares.”

“You know Alexandra if you really feared me- you would have went to the police. But you didn’t. you came because you’ve been trying to figure out who I was for two years now, and now you know.”

He is right.

He isn’t wrong.

I should have went to the police if I feared him.

But I didn’t because deep down I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, I guess you could say I was just over exaggerating the situation. But I wasn’t and he knows I wasn’t.

God, why did it have to be him?

“I didn’t want it to be you,”

“What difference does it make?”

“It makes a difference!”

“I’m Diávolos, the one you were warned about, the one who should have scared you away.”

“Just stop Ares.” I whisper, not wanting to hear any more of this.

“You told me you didn’t fear me, so why now? What difference does it make?”

“It makes a difference!” I yell.

“I only kill people who do bad things; rape-human trafficking-abuse…”

“Did the girl know?” I speak, “the one who…died?”

“Yeah, she knew…” he answers me.

Ares stood up, but I held up a hand, signalling for him to stay put. “Don’t follow me,” I request, feeling the need for space and time to process everything.

He raises both hands in surrender, his gaze unwavering as he assesses the tension crackling between us. “I won’t,” he assures me, his voice low and husky. “But understand this, Alexandra. You’re mine. And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect what’s mine. Whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” I retort, defiance fuelling my words. “I can protect myself!”

---