Page 47 of Psycho Boys

Cali nods, her eyes sparkling with the kind of depth I never expected to find. “I wouldn’t lie about something like that. You mean everything to me. You all do.”

She squeezes my hand, grounding me in a world that felt chaotic just moments ago. I lean in closer, feeling the warmth radiate from her body as I lower my voice.

“You don’t even know how fucking much I’ve wanted to hear you say that. I thought I was just another name written in your skin, another chapter in a story you were ready to outgrow.”

“Five,” she coos softly, almost playfully, but there’s a power behind her words. “You’re not a fucking chapter; you’re a part of me now. Just like everyone else. I’m collecting my family—my real family—the kind that I choose, and you—” she pauses, her eyes narrowing slightly as she leans in closer, “you are fucking essential.”

I can feel the words wrapping around us, binding us in a way that feels both fucking terrifying and exhilarating. The weight of her gaze sends shivers down my spine, igniting a fire that spreads through every nerve ending, pulling me deeper into her orbit.

"Fuck, Calista, I love you too," I admit for the first time in my life, truly meaning it.

“Good, you fucking better. Now let’s go back inside,” she says, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Tell the others. I want them to know, too. That we’re all in this shit together.”

A pang of realization hits me. This moment, this confession, somehow feels even more significant than the tattoos—it's a pact, a commitment that ties us all together in ways none of us fully understand... until now.

“Okay, but I’m still worried about how they’ll react,” I admit as I pull back slightly, searching her face for any hint of doubt.

“Stop fucking worrying.” Cali chuckles lightly before stepping back, and she wraps her fingers through mine, courage radiating from her. “They’ll be happy for us. They love my mysterious Five just as much as I do. Trust me, baby.”

As we walk back inside, her grip tightens on my hand, and I can’t help but smile at the thought of what’s to come—the laughter, the shared confessions, the love that she says is ours. The atmosphere shifts as we step through the door, the sounds of the tattoo gun fading into the background, replaced by the soft murmurs of the guys chatting amongst themselves.

The moment we enter, however, everything comes to a halt. The others turn to us, curiosity etched on their faces, their expressions shifting from casual interest to attentive focus.

“What’s going on?” Dom asks, his brow furrowing. I can see worry etched into the lines of his forehead, concern for both me and Cali.

“I have something to say,” Cali announces, her voice steady and strong. She steps in front of me, not like a leader but as a co-pilot in our admission. “I want to tell all of you... I’m not just yours; I’m his too. I love Five just like I love you all.”

A silence blankets the room, a mixture of surprise and understanding sweeping through the air. Then, much to my astonishment, Ash breaks into a warm smile.

“Well, that’s fucking awesome!” he exclaims, throwing an arm around both of us. “Another name to add to the ink, then?”

Killian laughs, shaking his head. “I’m not sharing my space on her with any of you fools,” he says, his tone light yet possessive. “But seriously, Five, welcome to the fucking psycho club. It looks like we’re all officially a part of this chaotic mess together.”

"Yeah, you're all my Psycho Boys, and I'm your Little Psycho, and I fucking love you."

With that, the room erupts in shared laughter, the tension dissolving in an instant, all the worry about the trouble lurking around the corner forgotten as the realization sets in—this is our family, our chaotic, imperfect family, and we’re bound to one another in ways that nobody else could ever know. I feel the weight of my earlier doubts lift completely, replaced by an overwhelming sense of belonging.

Cali grins up at me, and in that moment, under the flickering fluorescent lights of Dominic's studio, I know without a doubt that we’re not just marking her skin—we’re marking our souls, intertwining them in a way that will keep us together, no matter what shitstorms lay ahead. My family, my little fucking mystery, my heart—forever tied in a beautiful tapestry of love and defiance.

"Let's get these tattoos finished and talk about how and when we're going to kill your fathers," Cali says casually, sitting back down with a grin so wide it has to hurt her cheeks.

The casual mention of killing their fathers hangs in the air, a remarkable difference from the tender moment that preceded it. It’s a reminder of the darkness that still clings to Calista, a shadow that even the overwhelming love and acceptance can’t entirely erase. For a moment, the room falls silent, the laughter fading into a thoughtful hush. Then Dom, putting another pair of gloves on, speaks.

"Right, well, let's tackle that little detail after we've finished this," he says, picking up the tattoo gun again. "We can discuss logistics over celebratory whiskey later. But for now, let's focus on the fucking art."

He gestures to Calista's thigh, where the interrupted tattoo waits. The air crackles with a strange mix of anticipation and nervous energy. The act of permanently etching their—our—names onto her skin, now imbued with this new layer of meaning, feels different. It's no longer just a brand of ownershipbut a symbol of a fiercely chosen family, a testament to a love born from the ashes of trauma.

The whir of the tattoo gun resumes, a steady rhythm that punctuates the silence. Each needle prick is a tiny affirmation, a building block in the foundation of their unconventional, fiercely loyal bond. Ash hums a low tune, his usual boisterous energy tempered by a quiet respect for the gravity of the moment. Killian, ever the stoic observer, watches with a subtle smile playing on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the profound shift in their dynamic.

As the tattoos are finished, a sense of completion settles over the room. The marks on Calista's skin are more than just ink; they're a map of their shared history, a testament to their resilience, and a promise of a future they will face together. And now my name is added to the group, drawn perfectly in ink on the back of her neck.

Back at their apartment,the whiskey flows freely and the cocktail of drugs courses through our bodies, the laughter louder, the confessions deeper, and the bonds stronger than ever before.

"So," Ash says, taking a shot before he continues. "I want my father dead first." He slams the glass on the table, picks up a rolled-up bill, and sniffs a line of heroin and cocaine mixed, vigorously rubbing his nose as the burn begins to take effect.

I sit here and observe the four of them, a drink in one hand and a blunt in the other, curious to see how it's all going to play out. Before this, I broke the rules of the street, never breakinganything too serious. But all of that went out the window when I joined them in their plot for revenge, and it'll stick with me for the rest of my life. I just keep reminding myself that these men and these people deserved their brutal deaths for the things that they did. Never once has an innocent life been taken, which makes living with this nightmare a little easier.

"Any idea how you wanna do it?" Cali asks, getting up from her spot on the couch and sitting on Ash's lap.

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