Chapter Eight
The buzzing hum of Fated Ink filled the air with the scent of ink, metal, and faint traces of sage. Lennox leaned back in the tattoo chair, eyeing Ursula suspiciously as she set out her tools. Her expression was unreadable, calm like a lake—but there was something in her eyes that made him uneasy.
“Relax,” she said, wiping down the circular pad beside him. “I’ve done this a thousand times.”
“Yeah, sure,” Lennox muttered. “But none of those times were on me.”
Hunter snorted from the next chair, arms folded across his chest. “You’re acting like she’s about to carve runes into your soul.”
Lennox tilted his head toward him. “Brother, she literally might. She’s a witch.”
Ursula didn’t even glance up as she prepped the ink. “You’ll live. Maybe glow a little, but live.”
Brielle laughed from her seat near the window, sipping coffee while watching them both. “You two are worse than kids.”
Hunter grinned. “That’s not true. Kids have more self-preservation.”
Lennox groaned, staring at the design sketched out on Ursula’s tablet. “So, I was thinking maybe something like Jacob and Liam’s tattoos. You know, that interlocking knot they’ve got over their left chest and shoulder looks badass.”
Ursula raised one brow. “Badass, yes. But not what you’re getting.”
Hunter frowned. “What do you mean? We talked about matching ours to theirs.”
“I know what you said,” Ursula replied, tone calm but firm as she adjusted her glasses. “But you’re not them. You’re bears. You’ve got your own path to walk. This one,” she turned the tablet toward them, “is for you.”
On the screen was a Celtic knotwork ring—tight, intricate, endless in its looping curves, designed to curve up from the right bicep and down over the pectoral muscle—but at the center was a blank space, an open circle untouched by ink.
Lennox squinted. “You forgot the middle.”
“I didn’t forget,” she said simply. “It stays empty.”
Hunter leaned forward. “Why?”
Ursula’s lips curved faintly. “Because some things aren’t meant to be filled in yet.”
Lennox blinked. “That’s it? That’s your big witchy explanation?”
She chuckled softly. “You’ll understand when you’re supposed to. For now, trust me.”
Hunter exchanged a glance with Lennox, both of them skeptical but unwilling to challenge the woman whose magic could probably turn their hair green if she wanted. “Fine,” Hunter said. “We trust you.”
Brielle smiled from the corner. “See? Growth.”
Ursula motioned for Lennox to settle. “You’re first. Shirt off, big guy.”
He sighed dramatically, pulling it over his head. “If this hurts worse than claws to the ribs, I’m filing a complaint.”
“It’ll hurt,” Ursula said with a smirk. “But it’ll mean something, too.”
The needle buzzed to life, and Lennox clenched his jaw as the first bite of ink sank into his skin. He’d taken worse, far worse—but there was something different about this pain. It wasn’t sharp or shallow. It thrummed through him, deeper, like it was resonating with his heartbeat.
Hunter leaned back in his chair, watching the process with a mix of fascination and nerves. “Looks good from here,” he said, trying to sound casual.
“Wait till it’s your turn,” Lennox grunted.
When Ursula finally finished, she wiped the excess ink away and gestured for him to look in the mirror. The design gleamed black and bronze against his skin, the lines of the knotwork shimmering faintly as if the ink itself breathed.
“Whoa,” he muttered. “It’s ... alive.”
“It’s reactive,” Ursula corrected. “To you, to your bond, to what’s still coming.”
Hunter frowned, curious. “Still coming?”
She just smiled and patted the chair. “Your turn.”
Hunter stripped his shirt off with far less grumbling, settling into the chair. Lennox leaned against the wall beside Brielle, still feeling the faint pulse of the ink in his skin. It was strange—warm, steady, almost protective. He caught Ursula’s gaze, and she smiled knowingly.
“You feel it, don’t you?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Like it’s ... waiting.”
She nodded. “Maybe it is.”
As Ursula worked on Hunter, Brielle stood and came closer, brushing her fingertips lightly across Lennox’s arm. “You look good,” she murmured.
He smirked. “I usually do.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away. Her hand lingered on his chest for a heartbeat longer before she returned to her seat.
Hunter hissed as the needle traced near his ribs. “Okay, I officially get why you were whining,” he said through gritted teeth.
Lennox grinned. “Told you so.”
Ursula ignored them both, her expression focused, calm. When she finished and wiped down Hunter’s skin, she repeated the same words she’d said to Lennox. “Don’t question it yet. The circle will tell you what it means when the time’s right.”
Hunter studied the mark, brow furrowed. “Feels like it’s humming.”
“It’s supposed to,” she said, packing up her tools. “You’re linked now—to each other, to Brielle, to the threads of something older than this city.”
Lennox frowned. “That sounds ominous.”
Ursula only smiled, her eyes glinting like moonlight through storm clouds. “Ominous, maybe. Or maybe it’s the start of something beautiful. Either way, trust me.”
They did. Not because they understood, but because when Ursula spoke like that—quiet, confident, full of the kind of knowing that came from lifetimes—they couldn’t not.
As they left the studio later, the air felt different. The bond between them hummed faintly, subtle but undeniable, and when Brielle slipped her hand into Lennox’s, the circle of ink over his ribs warmed like a heartbeat.
“Guess she knew what she was doing,” Hunter said quietly.
Lennox nodded, eyes on Brielle. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I think she always does.”
****
Fated Ink was quiet in the late afternoon, the scent of antiseptic and ink clinging to the air.
Brielle stood behind the counter, wiping down the glass case that held her charms and jewelry, her thoughts still circling the coven’s earlier meeting.
They had been discussing Caleb again—his next move, and what protections they still needed.
When Ursula finally sent Willow and Saffie upstairs to start strengthening the wards, Brielle offered to stay behind and close up.
The bell over the door jingled softly. She turned, surprised to see Landon Walker step inside.
He looked exhausted. His blond hair was longer than she remembered, his jaw shadowed with stubble. His dark blue uniform pants were creased, and his NYPD shirt was half untucked.
“Hey,” she said, lowering the cloth in her hand. “You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”
He gave a tired laugh. “Pretty sure one almost did earlier. Double shift. Paperwork. And a dumbass rookie partner who think sirens mean go faster through intersections.” He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned against the counter. “Been a long week.”
Brielle smiled faintly. “Ouch, pulling doubles? You’ll burn out.”
He shrugged. “Comes with the badge. And with my brothers finally in town, I don’t get much rest at home either.”
“Your brothers?” Brielle asked as she leaned against the counter.
“Yeah,” he said, a tired grin tugging at his mouth. “Braydon and Colt. Still trying to adjust to city life. They think noise complaints are a personal challenge.”
Brielle laughed softly. “Sounds like chaos.”
“Controlled chaos,” he said, eyes flicking around the shop. “Place looks good, though. Guess Ursula and Saffie are keeping business steady?”
She nodded. “Steady enough. You just missed them—they’re upstairs with Willow.”
Landon’s smile warmed a little. “Mostly, I just wanted to check in with you. Let you know that we still haven’t found Caleb.”
She winced. “Yeah, I figured, but there was always hope until you said it out loud.”
Before either could say more, the front door opened again.
Hunter and Lennox entered, still flushed and damp with sweat from a run, followed by Nolan and Liam, all four of them dressed in gym shorts and t-shirts.
The sharp scent of clean sweat and cool night air followed them in.
They were joking about something until they spotted Landon.
The laughter died instantly. The air shifted—heavy, charged with something Brielle couldn’t name. Hunter’s posture changed, protective, while Lennox’s head tilted slightly, nostrils flaring.
“Hey,” Hunter said carefully. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Walker.”
Landon offered a tired salute. “Evening, boys. Figured I’d check in on a friend before heading home.”
Nolan and Liam exchanged a glance but said nothing. Lennox moved closer, studying him with a sharp, assessing gaze. “Something’s different about you.”
Brielle frowned. “Different how?”
Lennox didn’t answer her. He took another step forward. “You smell different.”
Hunter’s eyes narrowed. “He’s right.”
Landon’s brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”
Nolan crossed his arms. “You’ve got a scent now, Walker. One I’d know anywhere.”
Landon hesitated, then gave a tight smile. “Guess that’s one way to say I’ve been working too many night shifts.”
“Not that kind of scent,” Lennox said quietly. “You smell like a shifter.”
The words hung in the air. Brielle blinked, startled, but Landon went very still.
“Come on,” Hunter pressed, his voice low. “You know what I’m talking about.”
Landon sighed and rubbed his hand over his face.
“I didn’t want to say anything. Didn’t even want to believe it myself.
But, yeah.” He met Hunter’s eyes, then Lennox’s.
“Me and my brothers ... we changed. About a week ago.” He gave a shaky laugh.
“We have the ability to turn into lions now. Didn’t ask for it, didn’t expect it—but here we are. ”
For a heartbeat, the room was silent. Then Lennox let out a low whistle. “Lions, huh. That’s new.”
Hunter folded his arms. “Newly turned?”
“Yeah. Still trying to figure it out. Balancing shifts, real shifts, and making sure none of us end up on the news.” Landon looked back at Brielle, his expression softening. “Didn’t mean to dump that on you. Just ... it’s been a lot.”
She nodded slowly. “I can imagine. That’s a big adjustment.”
“Understatement of the year,” he said, chuckling weakly. “Still, seeing you—it helps. Reminds me of what normal used to feel like.”
Hunter bristled, his protective instincts kicking in. “She’s fine, Walker.”
Landon’s gaze flicked to him, then back to Brielle. “I can see that.” His tone dropped, quiet but deliberate. “But I think I might have the right to see for myself. You sure she’s your mate?”
The question hit like a flash fire.
Lennox growled low in his chest. “What the fuck did you just say?”
Landon didn’t back down. “Just saying what I see or in this case what I don’t scent. You don’t smell bonded. I may be new to this shifter business, but that is instinctual. There is no bond between her and the two of you.”
“Landon, stop,” Brielle said sharply, tension snapping in her voice.
He met her eyes, regret flickering there. “Sorry. Habit. Cops ask questions—they don’t always think before they do.”
The back door opened then, and Willow, Saffie, and Ursula stepped in, their laughter cutting off when they saw the scene. The air crackled again, heavy with magic and male dominance.
Ursula’s sharp gaze landed on Landon, and Brielle saw a flash of something in her gaze but couldn’t place it.
Saffie asked, “What are you doing here, Officer Walker?”
“Just checking in,” he said evenly. “Didn’t mean to cause trouble.”
Something flickered between them, and when nothing but silence built between them, Ursula’s expression cooled. “You’ve checked. Now you should go, get some rest. You look like you need it.”
Landon didn’t move toward the door. Instead, his jaw clenched and his eyes darkened. “You can’t send me away like I’m a problem you can solve. I’m not leaving until Brielle hears me out.”
Hunter stepped forward, muscles tight under his shirt. “You’re already crossing a line, Walker.”
Landon turned toward him, voice rising. “And you’re acting like you own her. You don’t.”
Lennox moved beside Hunter, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “You need to shut your mouth before you find yourself on your ass.”
“Try me,” Landon said, taking a step closer. The air thickened, tension coiling like a wire ready to snap.
Brielle moved quickly between them, her voice sharp. “Enough! This isn’t happening in here.”
Ursula’s tone was calm but cutting. “If you push this further, Officer, I will personally hex your badge.”
Landon froze for half a heartbeat, jaw still tight, then glanced back at Brielle. “I just need you to listen. I can’t shake this—it’s pulling me to you. I know what that means.”
Hunter’s growl deepened, and Lennox’s hands balled into fists. The scent of dominance filled the room, hot and animal. Brielle could almost feel it vibrating in her teeth.
“Stop,” she ordered, power threading her voice, subtle but firm. “All of you. We are not doing this here.”
Landon’s breathing was harsh, the lion in him pushing closer to the surface, his eyes flickering gold. “Then tell them to stand down, Brielle, before someone gets hurt.”
Hunter’s tone was a growl when he answered. “You first.”
The tension held, the room crackling with barely restrained violence, until Ursula lifted one hand. A shimmer of warding magic rolled through the shop, dimming the lights and pressing down on the air until the heat of their tempers cooled.
“Sit,” she said simply. “All of you.”
They didn’t sit, but they stopped. For now.
Brielle stood in the middle, her hands trembling even as her voice stayed steady. “You need to breathe, Landon. We’ll talk when you’re calm. Not before.”
He held her gaze for a long, tense moment, chest heaving, then nodded stiffly. “Fine. But I’m not going anywhere.”
Hunter and Lennox exchanged wary looks, still coiled tight, ready to move if he so much as flinched.
Nolan exhaled. “Well, this escalated fast.”
“Yeah, you think?” Brielle said, the sarcasm practically dripping from her tone.
The room stayed quiet, every breath measured, every muscle tight. Landon’s eyes burned gold now, the lion barely leashed. Hunter shifted his stance, body angled protectively in front of Brielle, while Lennox’s pulse thundered so loud it filled the air.
“Last warning,” Hunter said, his voice a growl wrapped in steel. “You need to walk out of here before you make a mistake you can’t take back.”
Landon’s lips curled, not in mockery but in something heartbreakingly raw. “It’s already too late for that.”