Page 63 of Christmas with Four Tattoo Artists

"And if we refuse?" I asked, my voice barely concealing the rage I felt.

Klaus smirked. "I think you know what’ll happen."

Silence enveloped the room, punctuated only by the sound of our collective, ragged breathing. The weight of Klaus's words hung in the air.

James broke the quiet, his voice icy. "You'll get the studio over my dead body."

Klaus sighed theatrically. "Oh, I was hoping you'd say that."

For a long moment, the room was still, a powder keg waiting to explode. But Klaus, with a flick of his wrist, motioned to the crew outside. The men stepped off their bikes, and for a moment I wondered if a fight was about to break out. But another gesture from Klaus stopped them in their tracks.

"Consider my terms," he said, turning to leave. "You have forty-eight hours."

With that, he was gone. He called out to his men, the Devils revving their bikes and peeling off. Klaus mounted his own and gunned the engine, racing into the night.

As we watched them drive away, the reality of our situation hit with full force. Julia was in the hands of a madman, and the clock was ticking.

Finn, his face still pale, whispered, "We need to find her, Kai."

I met his gaze, determination burning within me. "We will." I declared, "And when we do, Klaus will regret ever crossing us."

Chapter 28

Julia

My vision blurred as consciousness gradually seeped in. The sticky humidity of Florida clung to my skin, a familiar discomfort both reassuring and alarming. I was somewhere I recognized, but in circumstances I didn't. The walls around me were stained with nicotine and years of neglect. The mismatched curtains, likely a shade of canary yellow once, hung dulled and dusty, allowing a sliver of muggy sunlight to filter through.

Blinking, I realized my surroundings. I was in a low-rent motel room. The kind that saw more hourly guests than nightly. How cliché. Panic rushed through me, but I did my best to calm it down.

The distant thrum of the city reached my ears—horns, faint music, the rattle of a train. Miami's heartbeat. I knew it intimately. I tilted my head to catch a muted conversation, drifting in through the thin walls from the adjacent room. Spanish, fast-paced, the distinct twang of Miami's dialect.

Focus, Julia. Think. Try to figure out where you are.

Pulling my thoughts together, I sniffed the air, catching the familiar tang of salt and brine carried by a soft breeze from a not-so-distant ocean. The wind direction and that specific scent told me I was likely on the outskirts of Miami. Not in the city’s pulsing heart, but close.

Panic began to set in as the familiar roar of motorcycles pierced the atmosphere. That deep, rumbling sound that I'd come to associate with danger as of late. The Crimson Devils. The noise grew in volume, making it clear they were positioning themselves. I was being guarded—and heavily.

I could hear faint laughter, the clink of beer bottles. Likely they were enjoying themselves, thinking they had the upper hand. Well, the joke would be on them soon.

Carefully, without making a sound, I began to test my bindings. My wrists had been secured to the chair legs with zip ties and my hands tied behind my back. My fingers brushed against my back pocket. Remembering an extra hairpin I'd tucked in there earlier, I began to maneuver it into my hand. Falling asleep fully dressed would come to my advantage.

Just as the edges of a plan began to form in my mind, the door to my dingy prison was thrown open. The room's dimness was invaded by the early evening sun and the imposing silhouette of Klaus.

He swaggered in, a sinister smile curving his lips, his eyes raking over me with malicious satisfaction. "Sleeping Beauty awakens," he drawled. "You have a nice nap?"

I glared back at him, my hatred unmistakable. "What do you want, Klaus?"

He chuckled, taking a seat in a chair across from me, his proximity making my skin crawl. "Oh, you'll see. We've got plans for you, darling."

"You think this will stop them from coming after you?" I snapped, jerking my chin toward the faint sounds of his gang outside. "You think you've won?"

Klaus leaned in, his foul breath mingling with the room's musty scent.

"Oh, I know I've won," he whispered. "You're the bait, and they'll come running. And when they do..." His laughter sent shivers down my spine.

Drawing up all the courage and disdain I could muster, I spat words right back at him. "You underestimate them. And you underestimate me."

His eyes flashed with a dangerous gleam. "We'll see about that."

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