The Tattoo Artist (La Petite Mort #1)

48. Chapter 48

forty-eight

Quinn

I t had been four weeks since we had been back, and things had only gotten worse. My parents were hiding something from me. They looked paranoid, always looking over their shoulders. They were even stricter with me and didn't let me out of the house unless it was for work or school. Even now, they called me at work to make sure I answered the library phone.I quit all my other jobs except for the library when I took the job with Alexander. I couldn't. The peace it brought me working there helped me. The books helped me escape reality, plus I enjoyed spending time with Isaac.

I turned in my portfolio yesterday and couldn't wait to hear back from Mrs.April. I hoped to win a scholarship that would allow me to go to the States. Alexander had been busy with the mafia business, and I assume that the business involved a man named Irish. Today, I made sure to set up the work phone to transfer any calls to my cell phone so that if my parents did call, I would be able to answer the call.

I was on my way to the once-abandoned house that was no longer abandoned. The last time I was there, security was everywhere. What was Deimos hiding from me? What was Alexander hiding?

The house came into view, and something in my gut didn't feel right. I called Alexander and asked him where he was, and he told me that he was picking up his sister from a friend's house and would be taking her home.

That was why I thought now would be the perfect time to find out what was inside that house. I had been watching this house closely for the past four days and knew when the guards changed shifts. The guards would be leaving in less than five minutes, giving me a two-minute window to get in.

Watching the guards leave, I ran across the street, slipping inside, my heart beating painfully hard in my chest. I lifted my head. I noticed Alexander's bike parked in front of the house.

He lied to me.

Why would he lie to me?

Now, more than ever, I was determined to find out the truth. The property was huge, and the darkness of the night was in my favor, but so was God. The door to the side of the home opened, and out came an elderly woman who looked to be in her late 70s. I ran towards the opened door before it could shut. Entering the house, my eyes took in its surroundings—the kitchen was huge.

I continued to walk past the kitchen, heading towards the hallway, unsure of where it led. The house was quiet except for some classical piano music that played. I made my way upstairs, getting halfway up, when suddenly I heard noises coming from the room closest to the staircase.

It was a woman's voice.

I slowly and quietly made my way upstairs. The voices got louder and louder with each step I took. The woman was crying. My heart continued to bang hard against my chest, and then, just as rapidly, it sank to my stomach.

"Alexander. Alex, please, she needs to know," the woman begged. Alex? Why is she calling him Alex? Only I got to call him Alex, and that was either when we were having sex or I felt like calling him by his nickname. This woman had no right to call him Alex .

Getting closer to the door, I leaned further in to look through the opening. "Athena, please, I can't tell her," Alexander answered, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes for a second before opening them once again.

"You have to be patient. She only just started to remember, and I don't want her to hate me. I can't lose her," he confessed.She got off the bed and walked towards him, wrapping her arms around him.

She was consoling him.

Push her away. Come on. Push her. Bloody hell, push her! My brain was screaming, but Alexander didn't push her. He held her. He wrapped his muscular, tattooed arms around her. She was an older lady in her thirties, but she was beautiful. My hand instantly gripped the hilt of the medieval dagger I had tucked inside the waistband of my panties.

He flicked his tongue over my clit, the whimper of approval leaving my lips. He continued to feast on me,licking both our cums as he dragged his tongue inside my filled hole and sucked me clean. He gripped my chin, and I opened my mouth as he spat both our comes into my mouth.

"Motherfucker," he growled.

"Mmmm," I hummed, a satisfied smile on my lips.

After we finished cleaning ourselves, I walked over to where the dead body was still sitting in the middle of the storage room. I killed a man, but not any man. Freddy tried to kill me two years ago, and now he was dead. The adrenaline I felt when Deimos handed me the blade was exhilarating and dangerous.

I wanted more.

I craved more.

I snapped from my thoughts when Deimos wrapped his arms around me and settled his head on my shoulder. "I have something for you," he whispered, kissing my neck.I turned around to face him, and our gazes connected for a moment before he took out the most beautiful medieval dagger I had ever seen.

“Αυτ? αν?κει σε σ?να, ?γγελ? μου," he said, handing me the dagger. ("This belongs to you, my angel,")

My hands gripped the hilt, feeling the grip. My fingers ran over the cross guard before my fingertips made their way down the blade until the tip of my middle finger touched the point–tapping against it.

"Alexander…I want to tell her the truth. She needs to know the truth," she pleaded between sobs.I was blinded by the anger, the jealousy, the rage, and the venom that was coursing my veins and making its way throughout my body. And because of that, I didn't see the similarities this woman had with me. If I had paid closer attention, maybe, then I would have realized that the woman I almost killed was my fucking sister.

Two Days Earlier

I got home from school a little earlier than usual since I wanted to head to the cabin. The house was strangely quiet, and my parents were nowhere to be found. I walked further down the hall, passing my father's office, when hushed voices stopped me in my tracks.

"The Director of the Poppy Mental Health Clinic said they couldn't find her. You know what that means," Mother yelled. "Means that fucking disgrace of ours can ruin everything," she added.

"We'll find her. She has no one to help her. Quinn won't find out the truth," my father assured my mother, but she was pulling at her hair, frustrated with something or someone.

"Plus, Quinn won't believe her. Her sister is crazy, and the last time she saw her was when she was just born. Since then, her sister has been locked up. The only picture we have of Cara is from when she was ten," my father revealed with venom in his voice.

My father was right. The house didn't have pictures of my sister except for that one photo, and when I dared question them, he got furious. My mother, on the other hand, said that she was not doing well, and they didn't want me to see my sister in that poor state.

"We have to do something, Ben. We cannot tell Quinn the truth," my mother gritted out.

What truth are they talking about? How will my sister ruin everything?So many more questions raced through my mind. I had to get out of here before they discovered me listening to their conversation. Was this why they were paranoid? All these trips to the States were because my sister escaped.

I raced upstairs, locking the door to my room and smiling with excitement at the thought of my sister escaping. She deserved freedom. She didn't deserve to be locked up in that bloody loony bin. I never really understood why my parents would do such a terrible thing like locking their daughter away.

I reached for the box under my bed and dumped its contents on my bed. I looked through the contents for my notepad. I was determined to find out the truth about that house. I'd been doing surveillance, and so far, I knew the time the guards changed shifts and who went in and out of that place. So far, I'd seen Alexander's bike four times, and his brother Sebastian had also visited the house.

They didn't stay long.

But ever since that night, when I saw Deimos, something in my gut told me that the house was the answer to all of my questions. If not, then to most of my questions.

Alexander couldn't make it since he was out with Aristotle on business. So, I took this opportunity to come up with a plan on how I would get inside the once-abandoned home. Sitting on the bed cross-legged with my laptop in front of me, I searched through the file Owen had provided me via email. Owen might be a lot of things, but he was for sure a damn good hacker. He got me the blueprints for the home.

As I studied the blueprints, my mind kept going back to what happened earlier. What possible secret could my parents be hiding? Where was my sister? What did she look like now? When closing the file, I clicked on the search engine and typed out the clinic my parents mentioned.

Poppy Mental Health Clinic was located in New York City. Now, more than ever, I wanted to go to New York City. I wanted to reunite with my sister and have a relationship with her. Growing up in a house as an only child was no fun. I had no one to play with and share my secrets or stories with. So, I vowed to myself that after discovering what that house hides, I would dedicate my time to finding my sister.

Present Time

Pulling out the dagger from my waistband, I lifted my hand, ready to kick open the door and throw my dagger straight through that bitch's neck. I wanted to see her choke on her blood. I'd kill her first before killing Alexander fucking Hades and chopping his cock off for cheating.

Just as I was about to raise my hand higher, my hand was gripped mid-way up. Turning around to face the person who dared interrupt me, I saw Aristotle with Sebastian behind him. Aristotle gripped my hand tightly as he struggled to rip the dagger from me.

"Let go of me," I warned. My voice was deadly.

"Aristotle, let go of me," I repeated as we struggled against each other. The door flew open, revealing a pissed-off Alexander. Getting in between us, he looked deadly.

"Don't you fucking touch her. I swear I'll kill you, Aristotle," he gritted through his teeth.

"I was saving you—" he said as he shoved his index finger against his hard chest. "You ungrateful son of a bitch," he continued. His voice was just as deadly. I took the opportunity to grab my dagger back since Aristotle and Alex were both distracted. Sebastian had entered the room and closed the door to protect whoever that woman was.

"What the fuck are you doing here," Alexander uttered.

I laughed maniacally.

"Who is she?" I threatened. My breathing was hard, and my heart rate increased with each passing second. "Who. Is. She?" I repeated.

Alexander's gaze pleaded with me to leave it alone. I closed my eyes, and tears stained my cheeks even more as I opened them, only to witness Alex shaking his head.

"I can't tell you," he whispered.

I bit my lips to stop myself from crying in front of him, but before I could do anything else, we got interrupted.

"Irish has arrived," some tall, muscled gorilla announced. Alexander sighed, frustrated, running a hand through his hair. Aristotle followed the gorilla out to meet with Irish. Alexander took advantage of the situation and the fact that I was distracted and hauled my ass over his shoulder, taking me into another room.

I punched his back and kicked my feet in an effort to loosen his hold on me, but that didn't work.

"Let me go."

"Alex. Let me go," I repeatedly punched his back as hard as possible.

Once inside, he kicked the door closed and headed for the bed. He dropped me on top of the mattress. I swallowed hard as I lifted myself on my elbows, ready to make a run. "Please, Quinn, let me deal with Irish, and I'll come back to explain everything," he explained.

I laughed.

Getting off the bed, I clapped my hands sarcastically. "Now you want to explain. I thought you couldn't. Wouldn't," I pointed out. If he thought I was going to stay here and wait for his ass, he was surely mistaken. Alexander pulled out his phone and made a call, mentioning two different names. Moments later, two giant men walked through that door.

"I'll let you calm down," he said before whispering something to the two gorillas and walking out of the room with the two men following behind him. He locked the door. I ran towards it, my hand grabbing the handle, doing my best to open it.

Locked .

That motherfucker locked me inside here. Banging on the door, I yelled and screamed for him to open this goddamn door.