Chapter 20
Lena
F our Weeks Later
The tattoo gun hummed against my palm like a mechanical heartbeat. Almost a month since the warehouse, and I'd finally stopped flinching at unexpected sounds. Now I could focus on what mattered—making sure Thor didn't squirm and ruin the delicate wing details on his Valkyrie.
"Hold still, you giant baby," I chided, adding careful shading to the feathers. The design sprawled across his left shoulder blade—magnificent even half-finished. "You've sat through worse. This is nothing compared to that back piece."
"That wasn't for my wedding," Thor grumbled, but he stilled under my hands. The massive Viking who'd taken bullets without flinching was nervous about a tattoo. "What if she doesn't like it?"
"She designed half of it with me." I dipped the needle in fresh ink, purple-black that would heal to perfection. "Trust me, she's going to love it."
The piece was impressive, Mandy as a fierce Valkyrie, wings spread wide, her sword raised triumphant.
Below her, Thor's hammer lay waiting, wrapped in chains that morphed into Norse runes spelling out their wedding date.
The detail work had taken three sessions already, each line a meditation on love and commitment.
"Besides," I continued, working on the delicate chainmail of the Valkyrie's armor, "you literally cried when you saw the final sketch."
"Allergies," he muttered.
"In my air-conditioned shop. Sure." I bit back a smile, focusing on a particularly tricky bit of shading.
The Valkyrie's face held Mandy's exact features—soft eyes that could turn fierce, that little smirk she got when Thor was being particularly thick-headed.
"Just admit you're a romantic under all that leather and attitude. "
"Your man know you're abusing paying customers?"
"My man knows I tell the truth." The words came easy now, no more hiding. No more pretending Tyson was just another brother. "Unlike some people who pretend they got something in their eye during The Notebook."
"That was one time!" Thor's shoulders tensed, and I lifted the gun immediately.
"And if you mess up this wing because you're protesting your secret soft side, Mandy will kill us both." I waited for him to relax before continuing. "Deep breath. We're almost done with this section."
"It's fucking perfect," Thor breathed when I finally sat back, letting him twist to see in the mirror. The movement made the Valkyrie's wings seem to flutter, the chains around Mjolnir catching the light. "Jesus, Lena. She's gonna cry."
"Good tears, I hope." I applied moisturizer to the tattoo, then dressed it in plastic wrap. "Otherwise I'm blaming you for not sitting still enough."
"Good tears," he confirmed, still staring at the reflection. His voice had gone soft, wondering. "Can't believe I'm marrying her on Saturday."
"Can't believe she said yes," I teased, wrapping his shoulder carefully. "Remember, no swimming, no direct sunlight, and—"
"No picking at it, keep it moisturized, I know." He stood, all six-foot-four of tattooed muscle and barely contained emotion. "You doing the matching ones today?"
"This afternoon. Five bridesmaids, five matching infinity knots.
" Each design would be small, delicate—Celtic knots forming an infinity symbol on the inside of their wrists, the wedding date hidden in the weave.
Mandy had drawn the original herself, surprising me with her artistic eye.
"Speaking of which, Duke taking bets on whether I'll catch the bouquet? "
Thor's grin turned wicked. "Duke's taking bets on everything. Don’t want to tell you the odds he gave me on the two of you tying the knot."
It felt so good that our secret was out now. No more sneaking, no more lies, no more pretending I didn't light up like Christmas whenever Tyson walked in.
Speaking of which—the door chimed, and my body recognized him before my eyes did. That shift in the air, the way everything suddenly felt more solid, more real. Tyson stepped inside carrying two cups.
"My girl torturing you, brother?" He set one cup on my desk—vanilla sweet cream cold brew, perfect as always—before turning to inspect Thor's shoulder.
"Your girl's an artist," Thor admitted, pulling his shirt on carefully. "Worth every second of pain."
“Glad you think so.” I said, grinning.
"Of course." Thor headed for the door, pausing to look back. "See you both on Saturday. Try not to defile the shop—I know that look, Tyson."
"Get out," Tyson growled, but without heat. The door closed on Thor's laughter, leaving us alone in the afternoon quiet.
He moved immediately, drawn like always. Not grabbing or pushy, just... close. His hand found my waist, thumb stroking over my shirt, grounding us both.
"You good, wildflower?" The nickname still made me melt, especially in that careful tone he used when checking my emotional temperature.
"I'm good." I leaned into him, breathing in leather and coffee and that cologne that meant safety. "Better now."
His other hand came up to trace the purple streak in my hair, gentle as butterfly wings. "No nightmares last night."
"I noticed." Third night in a row, actually. The warehouse dreams were fading, replaced by normal things—showing up to work naked, forgetting how to tattoo, Tyson deciding he preferred blondes. "Helps having you there."
"Always gonna be there," he murmured into my hair. "Ready to watch your Daddy in a suit on Saturday?"
The word still sent heat through me, private and perfect between us. "More than ready. You clean up nice, Soldier Boy."
"Flatterer." But he was smiling against my temple, that content rumble in his chest that meant all was right in his world. "Finish up here by six? Thought we could grab dinner at that Thai place you like."
"The one where you complained the mild was too spicy?"
"I've been building tolerance." He pulled back enough to meet my eyes. "For you, I'll suffer through medium."
I laughed, pushing at his chest. "My hero. Now get out of here before Thor's right about defiling the shop."
"Rain check?" His eyes went dark with promise.
"Always." I stretched up for a quick kiss that turned into two, three, before he finally stepped back.
"Six o'clock," he reminded me from the door. "Be good, little girl."
"Never," I called after him, grinning at his growl.
The shop felt lighter when he left but not empty. Never empty anymore. I had four more tattoos to do, a wedding to prepare for, and a life that finally felt like mine. The nightmares might come back—trauma was sneaky like that—but they'd find me harder to break.
After all, I had a thriving business and a Daddy who brought me coffee. What more could a girl want?
R iverside Gardens bloomed like a purple and silver dream, wisteria dripping from every archway while ribbons fluttered in the warm breeze. Brothers in cuts stood at every entrance—trying to look casual while their eyes tracked every movement, every unfamiliar face. No chances, not after the yacht.
I smoothed my hands down the purple bridesmaid dress for the hundredth time, silk whispering against my palms. Mandy had chosen perfectly—deep purple that complemented my hair, cut to show the wildflower tattoo on my hip when I moved just right. Which Tyson had already noticed. Twice.
"Stop fidgeting," I told him, reaching up to adjust his tie one last time. The man could face down armies without blinking, but formal wear made him twitchy. "You look incredible."
"I look like a fed." But his hands settled on my waist, thumbs stroking through the silk. That thing he did, grounding himself through touch. "This dress . . ."
"Is perfectly appropriate for a wedding," I said firmly, recognizing the heat building in his eyes. "Don't even think about it."
"Too late." His voice dropped to that gravelly tone that made my insides liquid. "Been thinking about peeling it off you since you put it on."
"Tyson." I glanced around, but the other groomsmen were busy with their own adjustments. Tank was fighting with cufflinks while Duke straightened Tank's tie with presidential authority. "Behave during the ceremony."
"Always behave," he murmured, pulling me closer. The heat of him seeped through his suit, making me hyperaware of every point of contact. "Question is, will you?"
I nipped at his jaw, quick and teasing. "Guess you'll have to watch and find out."
His grip tightened, and for a moment I thought he might kiss me right there, audience be damned. Then the music started—soft guitar that meant places, everyone—and he stepped back with visible reluctance.
"Later," I promised, smoothing his lapel one last time.
His smile was pure predator. "Count on it, baby girl."
The wedding party arranged itself with practiced chaos.
Five bridesmaids, five groomsmen, all trying to remember which side they stood on.
I caught Mia's eye, both of us fighting giggles at the sheer normalcy of it.
Here we were, playing wedding like regular people, like we hadn't washed blood from our hair a month ago.
"Wrists up, ladies," Amy, Mandy’s sister commanded, and we all raised our arms to show the matching infinity tattoos. The photographer went crazy, clicking away at the delicate symbols that bound us together. Permanent sisterhood, inked in skin and sealed in survival.
The music shifted, and everyone turned. Even the brothers on security swiveled their heads, drawn by the processional march. First the flower girl—someone's niece, scattering purple petals with deadly seriousness. Then us, one by one, trying not to trip in heels on grass.
I locked eyes with Tyson as I passed, unable to help myself.
He stood at attention, military straight, but his eyes tracked me like I was the only person in the garden.
The promise in that look made me stumble slightly, catching myself before anyone but him noticed.
His lips quirked—the bastard knew exactly what he did to me.
Then came the pause, that held breath moment before—
"Holy shit."