Chapter 245 INKED FOR ETERNITY
Edeline
I had to press my lips together to stop a laugh from escaping. Gage, clearly rattled, quickly scurried from behind the desk and led us to a small room with a black curtain for a door. I followed, glancing around as Conor’s hand settled firmly at the small of my back.
The room was dimly lit, with blood-red walls that held all kinds of art—some beautiful, some... unsettling. In the center was a black leather chair that reclined, a metal tray perched beside it. The setup reminded me a little of a dentist's office, but somehow, much more ominous.
As I stared at the chair, my heart started to pound. Hard. I felt my pulse in my ears as Gage gestured toward the chair with a smirk that didn’t help. "Have a seat."
Everything felt a little too real at that moment. My chest tightened, breath quickening. Just as I hesitated, I felt Conor’s large, warm hand brush my lower back. The heat from his body settled over me like a blanket.
"It’s okay," his voice rumbled softly in my ear. "It won’t hurt as much as you think."
Nodding to myself, I leaned back in the chair, my hands gripping the armrests. When I glanced up at Conor, he was watching me with that half-smirk of his, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in amusement. He knew what I was thinking. He always did.
It’s just pain, I reminded myself. I can handle pain. I’m used to it. This would be no different. Just another mark, another scar, inked into my skin forever.
But as that thought circled in my head, doubt crawled up my spine. What if I left this pack one day? Would the mark still mean something? Would I still belong?
"Hey, Conor?" I asked, my voice quieter now, hesitant.
Gage, fumbling with the tray next to me, accidentally knocked something off, coughing and spluttering as he tried to recover. He muttered apologies under his breath while Conor’s dark eyes fixed on me.
"Yes, Edeline?" His voice was calm, but I could sense the shift in his focus. All of it was on me now.
I took a deep breath, my chest tightening again. "This is... forever, right? I mean, this mark. Is it for your pack only or..."
He shook his head before I could finish. "No, it’s not just for us. It’s a warrior’s mark. Wolves from other packs have them too. Every warrior does."
I exhaled slowly, feeling a small bit of relief. Of course, it was something all warriors shared. That’s why the symbol seemed so familiar. But still, as I stared at the design, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was more than just a tattoo.
It was a reminder of everything I had been through—and everything I still had to face.
"My dad has one," I said, my eyes growing wide at the memory. "But on his, the triangles are at the bottom instead of the top." It had been years since I’d seen it. The only tattoo he ever had, and I could still remember how it looked.
Conor nodded, as if that made perfect sense. "He’s from the south, then. Up north, we have them at the top. We don't mess with east and west. You're either from the north... or the south." That cleared things up a bit, but I still felt a twinge of uncertainty.
I raised an eyebrow. "What if I went to a southern pack?"
Conor grinned. "You'd get two more triangles at the bottom. The line down the center would begin and end with the double triangles. Not many wolves have that. It'd make you a skilled warrior." He smirked, teasing. "But let's not jump ahead—you're still a beginner, remember?"
I couldn’t help but laugh softly, nodding. It was comforting, in a weird way, hearing him say that. I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. The mark, this symbol, it was significant. Only warriors wore it. There was something special about that.
Then doubt hit me, creeping in the way it always did. I glanced up at him, unsure. "Do you think I deserve this?" My voice was softer now. "I mean… I'm not even that good."
Conor’s expression changed, his face growing serious. His eyes hardened for a moment, and with a quick, almost imperceptible nod, he shot a look at Gage—one that clearly said, Get out.
Gage didn’t argue. He dropped his tools with a loud clatter and stormed out, leaving the room in tense silence. Conor rolled a chair over to me, sitting down and pulling me into a comforting hold, his arms resting around my waist. He looked straight into my eyes, deep and unflinching.
"Edeline, you’re a lot better than you think," he said, his voice low but steady. "I’ve taught you not to see yourself as a pro, and for good reason. But have you stopped to look at how far you’ve come? How much you’ve already conquered? If anyone deserves this mark, it’s you." He paused, his gaze softening. "You’re a warrior in your own right, not just on the battlefield but in life. You fight so well. I never wanted to inflate your ego, but let me tell you something. Alexa? She’s one of my best beginners. I never told you that because I didn’t want you to feel pressured. But you beat her, fair and square. You’ve earned this." His tone grew more certain. "And you’re only getting better. One day, you’ll wear the united symbol of the North and South, and when the time comes, you'll have four canine triangles to show your mastery. But until then, know that you deserve this—right now."
His words landed hard, making me feel a mix of emotions I wasn’t sure I was ready for. My mouth fell open, eyes wide in disbelief. I never realized I was that good. He didn’t want me to know just how far I’d come. He had been protecting me from myself in a way, keeping me grounded.
I swallowed, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Thank you," I whispered, my voice catching. The thought of this Alpha believing I was worthy, of a mark no woman from my old pack had ever worn, made my eyes sting with unshed tears.