If Diablo wasn’t stopped, many people would die, myself included.
I couldn’t let that happen, not when I had a way to prevent it.
I couldn’t have them at each other’s throats.
So much had happened because of me. Reaper was right. This whole mess was because of who I was. What I started so many years ago. I was to blame for the bloodshed. If I wanted it to stop, it was only fitting that I bleed too.
I could do this.
I had to do this.
There was no other way to stop it all.
“I’ll do it,” I whispered as I slowly took off my sweater. Looking at Roxy, she nodded as she, too, was crying. She knew what this decision would cost me. She’d been there many times when I had to get a shot. She and my mother would try unsuccessfully to keep me calm while they held me down. It was horrible each time.
Walking over to me, she hugged me and helped me remove my shirt. Walking behind me, she quickly gathered my hair, twisting it until it sat on top of my head. “Can I have a pencil, Giovanni?” she asked before Gio handed her one. She stuck it through my hair, holding it in place.
Turning to Reaper, I asked, “Where do you want me?”
“Where you would be more comfortable.”
Looking at Gio, I said, “Can you sit on the couch?”
He nodded and did as I asked. I walked over to him when he was comfortable and straddled his lap.
“Are you sure about this?” He asked as his arms wrapped around me.
“Just hold me,” I softly replied as I leaned my head on his shoulder, giving Reaper access to my back.
“This isn’t going to be a regular claiming tattoo, Layla. Because I am claiming you as my blood, I have to put my mark on you. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
The second the words were out of my mouth, I heard the click of the tattoo gun. The loud buzzing filled the room. I tried to control my breathing as I allowed Gio’s scent to engulf me, transporting me back to last night when we were in the garden. But when I felt the burn of the needle, I screamed.
Gio’s arms tightened around me, holding me to him.
“Close your eyes,mia Amore. Remember the island. The flowers. The warmth of the sun. The sand beneath your feet as the water surrounded you. I am there with you. Remember. I held your hand as we walked on the beach, talked in the garden. All those beautiful flowers.”
“I remember,” I cried as the gun moved slowly over my skin. It felt as if a thousand bees were stinging me at once. The burn was unbearable. The heat was intense. The pain sucked the air out of my lungs.
“You are doing so good, baby girl. Remember that time when your momma and I were in her garden. It was springtime, and all the flowers were in bloom. Your momma wanted to plant some new primroses. She was so eager to get started when that skunk wandered into the yard.”
I chuckled. “Momma froze.”
“That’s right, baby girl, and what happened next.”
“Dylan came running from the house shouting charge. He didn’t see the skunk because he was pretending to be a cowboy.”
“That’s right.” She soothed as her hand tenderly caressed my face.
“He was running around jumping and waving his hat when the skunk turned and lifted its tail, spraying him. The smell was awful.”
“Yes, it was.”
“I never saw so many tomatoes before that night. Dylan was crying and gagging as you and momma tried to wash him in all the tomatoes, but it didn’t help. Momma made him sleep outside until the smell was gone.”
“That’s right, baby girl.”