The Tattoo Artist (La Petite Mort #1)

25. Chapter 25

twenty-five

Alexander

" W hat's she like?"

I looked into her soul. Oh, my little butterfly, if only you knew. "You remind me of her," I confessed, watching her expression. "She loves tattoos, especially the one on my thigh. She has a thing for drawing; she loves taking late-night rides on the back of my bike, and she enjoys writing letters and sending them to me. She—" I stopped myself from blurting out the color of her eyes—the color of her hair.

She listened intently to what I said, and I could see the wheels turning inside her pretty little head. "Do you, umm, save the letters?" I pushed myself off the desk, making my way toward her, lifting her chin so she was now looking into my soul.

"Every single one of them. Those letters are my lifeline," I vowed.

She stood from where she was sitting and moved away from me, the space between us growing with each step she took. "I should get going before it gets late," she blurted out.

"I'll take you," I added, leaving no room for objection.

I entered the building with my brothers and the Volkovs behind me. The underground fight that I had with Pavel was rescheduled to today because the fucker had something come up. I didn't mind because these past few days had been busy for me and my brothers. Entering the abandoned building, we made our way to one of the empty rooms. The rundown building used to be a warehouse of some kind. I could already hear the crowd cheering and roaring with excitement. Once inside, I removed my gun from behind me, handing it to Aristotle.

Removing my shirt and leaving myself in just my trousers, I ready myself. My muscles and tattoos were on full display. My brother Sebastian smirked as his gaze made contact with the tattoo on my chest. Quinn's tattoo. Aristotle didn't look too happy, but that fucker never looks happy. Nikolai and Aristotle were talking to their men to ensure no funny business went down tonight. Alexei walked over, smirking—the damn bastard was bubbling with anticipation to see Pavel's ass get kicked. He dangled the black tape in front of me, and a second later, he wrapped my hands.

Everyone exited the room, leaving me alone. I rolled my shoulders, trying to release some of the tension I felt. Doing a few jabs and uppercuts, I prepared myself mentally. I cracked my neck, moving it from side to side before exiting the room. My brothers were by my side as we walked to where the makeshift caged boxing ring stood. The smell of blood and sweat got stronger as we got closer. The further down we went, the louder the yelling got.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the fight you all have been waiting for, Cerberus against Pavel," the announcer announced to the crowd, making them go crazy. The three-headed dog with a spiked chain around his neck, his paw on top of a skull, and what looked like hell was tattooed on my back. It was also tattooed on my brothers. The Cerberus were three-headed guard dogs of the Underworld with immense strength and magical ability—the official mark for the Greek Mafia.

Entering the cage, my eyes made contact with Pavel, giving him a sinister smirk. Pavel threw the first punch, missing my jaw, giving me the opportunity to uppercut right on his chin, causing his head to fall back. I could hear the crack of his bones with the force of the punch. The crowd cheered louder. Pavel stumbled back a few steps. My arms went up, ready to throw the second punch of the night.We both traded punches back and forth and with each minute that passed, the animal inside me roared.

My muscles were flexing, and I could feel the sweat glistening on my body. I landed a punch to his face, his ribs, his stomach, and his kidney, and finally, I uppercut him, landing a brutal punch with so much force that he went down—out cold. The crowd erupted in cheers as my hand was raised in victory. My brother Sebastian and close friend Alexei entered the ring for a quick celebration as Aristotle and Nikolai collected payment and ensured Pavel and his team didn't do anything stupid.

A few minutes later, we were back inside the room, where I put on my shirt and unwrapped my hands. I looked over to where Nikolai and Alexei were, and their smirks told me they enjoyed watching me beat Pavel—I was sure they both wished it was them doing the beating.

Back home, we were all sitting around Aristotle's office. He was on the phone with our father, ensuring that Aurora and her friend Mia made it safely to Greece. Aurora wanted to celebrate Mia's birthday in Santorini.

"We'll have to be extra careful after today. We know Pavel will be pissed that he got his ass whooped by none other than Cerberus. Who knows how he'll retaliate," Alexei pointed out.

Maximo grunted, causing me to laugh. I knew Maximo had a crush on my sister's best friend, Mia, which was why he made sure to send extra men with them. He could deny it all he wanted, but I knew Maximo was like a brother to all of us, and honestly, I was happy his crush was on Mia and not my sister Aurora.

"Well, if he does, we'll be waiting for him. It might be time for Deimos to kill the bastard," Sebastian added, smirking sinisterly. I was unsure if the Volkovs knew who Deimos was, but not many people knew his true identity. I gave my brother a chin-up—silently agreeing with him.

As we continued to talk business, my phone rang. Looking down at who could be calling me, I saw it was Dimitri, one of Nikolai's men.

"Talk to me," I growled, knowing I would not like what he was about to say. I closed the office door, ensuring I was out of earshot.

"The girl you wanted protected is making her way towards the house," he informed me. Fuck, what the hell was she doing at this time? Checking my watch to confirm it was almost three in the morning. I should have known Quinn was going to continue her obsession with Deimos. Before I hung up, I warned him to watch her and ensure she didn't get near that house. I rushed out of there, heading towards her.

My Princess might have an obsession with Deimos, but my obsession was with her.