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.”
****