Page 7 of Queen of Wrath

“That would explain why I haven't found anything yet. Whatever they have going on down there, they're certainly keeping it well hidden.” I shrugged, but the determined look on my face told her that this was a seriously good lead.

“You’ve got a point, we’ll need to look into this.” She let out a sigh of relief before rubbing her forehead. “I hate to say it, but I was beginning to lose hope.”

“No one wants to see Jaricn and Diesel Ransom pay for their crimes more than me. I'm not going to give up on this, and neither should you.”

She raised her eyebrows at me, stifling a laugh. “You’re something else, you know that? Even after everything you’ve endured, you refuse to give up, no matter what. I really admire that about you.”

Rowan’s honey-colored eyes stood stark against her dark skin, regarding me in a teasing manner, but her words were genuine.

I knew it was silly of me, considering she was only doing her job, but it felt like we had become good friends—which was nice since my “friend pool" wasn’t exactly overflowing presently.

All my thoughts dissipated, and my mind scrambled as my shoulder began to burn. I hissed, reaching my hand over to press against the marking.

“It’s burning again?” The sudden spike of concern in her eyes and voice told me there was a part of her that cared about me as well.

“Yeah, it's been happening more often lately, too.” I scrunched my face, taking a deep breath in an attempt to push through the pain.

“I wonder why that is? I've seen plenty of these pacts between werewolves before, but none so severe. It's almost like you're allergic to it or something.”

Other than it flaring up almost every day, which I could easily handle, the worst part about this marking was that it constantly reminded me of the damning fact that I was forever tied to the man who had ruined my entire life without batting as much as an eye. The only saving grace was that it also tied me to Zane.

Although I hadn't seen him in years, I would never forget the kindness he’d always shown me and my family. He’d even fought to get me out of prison the last time I saw him, even if it had been to no avail, he’d at least tried his hardest to make things right.

That aside, I had started to realize that, more often than not, the marking seemed to burn whenever my thoughts wandered back to Jax and how he’d betrayed me. The other times I would even find myself wondering whether it was maybe coming from his end as well, for those flare ups would always have an aftertaste of remorse to it…

Good. I hope the legion of demons his sins must have summoned will torment him until his last dying breath!

I looked back up at Rowan, determined not to let her see an ounce of pain on my face.

“I'm sorry, I wish there was a way to break the pact without having all three of you standing together in one place. I've looked into everything we have. Akil and I both have been looking. There’s just—” Rowan held out her hands, palms up, and shrugged as if to show how helpless she was. Then her hands curled into determined fists right after. “We’ll keep looking for a way, Lea.”

Have they really been worried about me that much?

“It's okay… It's actually a pretty effective reminder that I have a job to do. And when it's all said and done, that is what’s most important right now, isn’t it?” I forced a reassuring smile onto my face, which seemed to wipe away some of the tension in her shoulders.

“Right! But in the meantime, we should look into trying to cover it up. If Jax or anybody else who knows about the marking sees it, they're going to know it's you immediately.”

I’d been worried about that exact same thing. “I’ve come up with a solution for that… I think it's time for some—cosmetic commitment.”

Rowan's face twisted with confusion, and I couldn't help but giggle.

Lea would never get a tattoo, but Uremma is different.

“Know any good ink specialists in the city who aren’t likely to blab?”

Later that same day, I went into the city in search of my discrete artist.

The tall white buildings surrounded me on either side as I made my way through alley after alley until I came across what appeared to be a tattoo parlor.

A Snarifim man was standing outside with a smoke stick protruding from his mouth. His long, scaly arms were decorated with black and white tattoos going all the way up to his neck. Although he looked rough, his clothing was made of very fine material.

His snake eyes flashed to me before he turned his head.

He raised his fingers to his mouth, plucking out the smoke stick between two fingers. “Hey there, are you looking for something?”

The way he smiled and tilted his head made me question him immediately. There wasn't a genuine emotion in his eyes.

I could tell, as he looked at me, that all he saw was money.

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