Page 113 of Revenge (Elite of Elmwood 3)

Had it been a mistake coming here? “It doesn’t work like that. There is nothing Easton or the Edwards can do now to help you.”

Her eyes narrowed, and I saw a flash of the Angie I hated. “Won’t? Or can’t?”

I shook my head, realizing I would get nowhere with her. “That’s not why I’m here. I came to forgive you and that’s all. There is nothing I can do.” I sighed, disappointed that I didn’t feel better. “I’ve said all I came here to say.” I hugged her, giving in to the earlier urge. “Goodbye, Mom,” I whispered, my voice trembling. I was close to tears myself. Closing this chapter of my life proved to be more difficult than I anticipated. I stepped out of her embrace, despite her reluctance to let me go.

“Josephine,” she called after me as I twisted to step down off the front porch.

If I turned around now, I might not be able to walk away. I had to be strong and firm. I had to do this for myself—for my future.

I kept walking, forcing my feet to move one in front of the other, straight into Brock’s waiting arms.

When you’re in the thick of things, it feels like you’ll never get out of it. Now that I was through to the other side, sometimes it was difficult to believe my life could be so quiet and mundane. No one threatened me. I didn’t worry about being hurt every day. And it didn’t ache when I laughed. It was genuine.

Carter was in jail, and Kenna and I were finally free. It looked like he would be gone for a long time.

I wanted to mark my journey, a reminder that I had survived, and that was how I found myself in a tattoo shop on my eighteenth birthday. That tattoo gun buzzed in the girl’s hand as she held it above my wrist.

“Ready?” she asked. Starla was one of the tattoo artists that had done work on the Elite. She was no taller than five feet, had half of her head shaved, with a sprawling dragon tattoo where her hair had once been. She was basically badass.

And I liked her instantly.

My lips lifted. “Definitely.”

I didn’t feel the sting after five minutes. It wasn’t that it didn’t hurt, because there was pain, but compared to what I’d been through, the bite of a needle was insignificant. Twenty minutes later, I gazed at the small yet meaningful tattoo, utterly in love with it. “It’s perfect, Starla.”

“It suits you,” she said, smearing a dab of petroleum jelly on the fresh ink. “I can’t decide if you’re one lucky girl or just incredibly brave, Josie James. I’ve known the guys for a few years now, and they don’t let just anyone in.”

“No, they don’t,” I agreed, my eyes finding Brock’s from across the shop. He had been catching up with one of the other tattooists, flipping through their flash.

Keeping my eyes locked on his, I stood up from the chair and walked to him. The way he looked at me… it should have been outlawed. “Finished?” he asked in a voice that told me he was dying to get me alone.

I tugged my sleeve up and revealed the little fluttering inked fireflies. “What do you think?” I asked, glancing up into his face. “You’ve branded more than my heart. I’ll always be yours, Brock fucking Taylor. Forever.”

A slow smile spread across his face, and the center of his eyes darkened. “I’m not sure I deserve you.”

I smiled at him, and I knew I probably looked stupidly happy, because I was. “Probably not, but you’re stuck with me. Next time, matching tattoos.”

His chuckle brushed over my cheek. “Whatever you want, Firefly. Come, on, the guys are waiting outside.”

Micah’s, Grayson’s, and Fynn's eyes drew to Brock and me as we exited the tattoo shop. Tiny flakes of white fell from the clear blue sky, the sun bright and high in the sky. It was the first snowfall of the season, and I had the urge to dance in the street and catch snow crystals on my tongue.

The three of them were lounging around the Land Rover, talking about God knew what, not paying much attention to the snowflakes falling around them. From the smirks on their faces, I was sure I didn’t want to know.

The guys gave me shit about my tattoo, but it was all so normal. “Now what?” I asked, more than a little nervous for the future. I felt so uncertain about it all. We’d been brought together and bonded by the crap with Carter. Would we all unravel now that we had nothing to worry about? What would happen to Brock and me? To the Elite? I had no idea what I would do after graduation, but at least for the first time in months, I could finally put all my energy and focus into studying, and earn that scholarship.

Brock looked at each of his friends and smiled. “We enjoy our last year together, as seniors. We fucking graduate.”

Warmth came alive in my chest. Maybe I was getting my period, or perhaps it was the encroaching holidays, but I was feeling sappy and sentimental as shit. “I can’t imagine not being together.” I wasn’t just referring to Brock and me, but to the Elite, Mads, and Kenna too. We were a unit, a package deal.

“It will always be the five of us, Firefly.”

“Damn straight, Josie Jo.” Micah wedged his way in between Brock and me, slinging his arm over my shoulder and ignoring the look from Brock as he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

Fynn boxed me on the other side. “We love you, JJ.”

My heart skipped. Not in the same way as hearing Brock confess his love, but it was nice all the same, being loved by the Elite, each in their own way.

Grayson crossed his arms. “It is going to take a lot more than college to split us up.”

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