Chapter 8 THE WEIGHT OF THE INK
I did not recognize the body in the mirror… well, not fully.
The nurse who had helped me to the bathroom that morning had warned me not to stand too long because I was still weak.
But I had been stuck in there for minutes after she left, looking at the tattoos showing beneath the hospital gown hanging loosely from my shoulders.
They covered my arms, wrapped around my ribs, crawled over my collarbone, and disappeared beneath the thin fabric at my hips.
Sharp lines with black and red links. Some were intricate, some crude, but none were decorative.
They all seemed deliberate.
I lifted my arm slowly, and they looked almost alive under fluorescent light.
I turned my wrist and saw tiny symbols embedded between larger designs that were numbers that weirdly looked like coordinates. Symbols I did not understand.
My pulse quickened, and I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and began taking pictures. Close-ups from different angles. I zoomed in on the smaller marks hidden within the larger pieces.
If this body came with a manual, it was written in ink.
"Are you planning to open a gallery?”
I jumped, nearly dropping the phone.
Jax was standing by the door, watching me with a puzzled expression. I was twisted at a strange angle, trying to get a clear photo of the intricate black ink on the back of my left shoulder.
For a man his size, he moved quietly.
"I was just... looking," I said. I lowered the phone and tried to look casual. "I have a lot of tattoos, Jax. I wanted to see them all."
His eyes drifted over the tattoos. Something unreadable passed across his face. “You always said they were lighter than carrying it in your head,” he muttered.
“I was just…” I lowered my arm slowly. “Trying to understand.”
Jax walked over and took the phone from my hand. He looked at the blurred images of my skin, then walked closer and gently took my wrist, turning it slightly. His thumb brushed over a cluster of small geometric shapes near the inside of my forearm.
"You always were proud of your ink," he said quietly. "But you never liked people staring at them. You said they were a map. Not a tourist attraction."
"A map?" I asked. I sat up straighter. "What do you mean by that?"
Jax looked around the room to make sure we were alone. He leaned in closer. "Some of these aren't just art, Sienna. They are a codex. A record."
“How?” I asked.
“They’re layered,” he said. “The bigger tattoos are camouflage. The real information is hidden in the spacing, the angles, and the number of lines. You taught me the basics once. Just in case.”
He pointed to a series of geometric lines running down my forearm. "These are escape routes. They are maps of the underground sewers and old subway tunnels. If you ever got cornered in the city, you just had to look at your arm to find a way out."
I looked down at the lines. They looked like abstract patterns to anyone else. To me, they were a literal lifeline.
He released my wrist and stepped back.
“You were paranoid,” he added. “But smart.”
“Teach me,” I said immediately.
His eyes snapped to mine.
“That’s not something you relearn overnight.”
“Teach me the basics,” I insisted. “If this is my skin, I need to know what it says.”
He studied me for a long moment, then sighed.
Jax hesitated. He traced a small, dark mark near my wrist that looked like a jagged crown. "Those are affiliations. Missions. Kills. On the streets, people know you by your work.”
A strange mix of awe and fear filled me.
Sienna had turned her own body into an emergency blueprint.
“What’s my street name?” I asked.
He gave a faint, almost reluctant smile.
“Siren.”
Siren.
It fit too well.
“Because I lured people in?” I asked.
“Because once they heard your name,” he said quietly, “they knew it was already too late.”
I swallowed.
"Siren," I repeated. It sounded dangerous. It sounded like the woman in the void.
"Be careful who you show them to," Jax warned. His face was dead serious. "To use these tattoos, to understand the code, is to invite danger. The people who put those marks there, or the people who recognize them, will know exactly what you are capable of. Some of those marks are invitations for a bullet."
Some of the other tattoos were different. Less structured. A delicate line behind my ear. A small symbol near my hip. I ran my fingers over the raised ink. "What about the ones on my ribs? The small, faded flowers?"
His expression shifted, and he shrugged. "Those are personal. You never told me about them. Even though we have secrets from each other, I guess."
I looked at him, trying to gauge the woman I was supposed to be. "Tell me something, Jax. How do people see me? I mean, before the coma. What was I like?"
Jax blinked.
“What?”
“If I walk into a room… what do they think?”
Jax leaned back, studying my face. “Cold,” he said slowly.
I nodded slowly.
“Ruthless,” he added. “You didn’t waste words. You didn’t tolerate stupidity. You had this… dark sense of humor that made people nervous because they couldn’t tell if you were joking.”
Dark humor… Another thing I needed to practice.
Then, ruthless and cold.
Fuck. Those were some big shoes to fill.
“You were the person people hired when they wanted the job done with zero questions and zero mercy."
I needed to bury Elena under a layer of ice.
"But," Jax continued, his voice softening. "A few months before the attack, something changed. You became... softer. Lighter. You actually smiled, and it wasn’t your usual scary smile. It was a real one. I didn't know what caused it, but I was happy for you. I thought you had finally found some peace."
I felt a pang in my chest. Peace. That must have been when she had met the man she had been with in the void and fallen in love.
She had actually found a love that gave her enough peace that people around noticed… must be nice.
"Then what happened?" I asked, shaking off the longing.
"Suddenly, the light went out." Jax ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed. "You became angry. Revengeful. You started hiding things from the crew. You went out alone and provoked a mid-level gang. It was impulsive. Brash. It wasn't like you at all. That’s what led to the ambush. That’s why you ended up here."
He looked at me with a desperate hope in his eyes. "Do you remember any of it now? Do you remember why you were so angry?"
I looked away. I knew why. Sienna had lost her love, and she hadn't told her crew because she wanted to protect them. She had gone on a suicide mission for revenge. I couldn't tell him that. Not yet.
"I don't remember," I lied.
"It’s impressive how well you know her," I said. I almost said 'know me,' but I caught myself just in time. "You pay a lot of attention to your friend."
Jax’s face turned a bright, sudden red. It was a strange sight. This massive, tough man was blushing like a teenager.
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. " I... I just pay attention to people I care about," he stammered, but didn’t look me in the eye.
I paused. The way he said it made me wonder. Did he have a crush on Sienna? It felt more complicated than just friendship.
It sounded less like loyalty.
More like a confession, but I dismissed it quickly.
I shook the thought away. I had never had a real friend, so maybe I didn't know what it looked like. Love was a weakness I couldn't afford anyway.
"I should go," Jax said abruptly. He stood up so fast he almost knocked the chair over. "I need to talk to the doctor about your discharge. We need to get you home where it’s safe."
He practically ran out of the room. I watched the door close, a small smile tugging at my lips. He was like a giant teddy bear.
But the smile faded quickly. I looked at my tattoos again. I had a mission. I had to kill the person who destroyed Sienna’s life, and I had to destroy Kanan.
I was a princess in a killer’s body. I had to learn how to use these hands before someone realized I was a fraud.
Suddenly, the heavy click of the door lock echoed through the room.
I looked up, expecting to see Jax, but instead, a man was standing at the door.
He was tall and slightly muscular, with a jagged scar running across his nose. His flat, cold eyes were what unsettled me the most.
He closed the door behind him, then calmly dragged a chair across the floor and wedged it firmly under the door handle.
My blood went cold, my instincts pinging all sorts of warnings. "Who are you?" I demanded, trying to keep my voice steady even though my heart was hammering.
He stepped toward the bed, looking at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. "I am here to finish the job," he growled. "I am going to kill the filth that caused our heir’s death."
"What heir?" I asked, my mind racing. "I don't know what you are talking about."
"Liar," he hissed. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a long, serrated hunting knife.
The scrape of the metal on the sheath and the way it gleamed under the hospital lights sent a shiver down my spine.
I just survived death, and now I was facing it again.
Fuck my life.
“If you hadn't seduced him with your demon lure, he would still be alive,” the man continued, stalking towards me. “You led him into a trap, Siren. Now, you’re going to join him."
Fuck. This must be the gang Jax mentioned, the ones Sienna had provoked. And it seemed like they weren't done with her.
Before I could think of a way to extract myself from the situation, the man launched himself at me, the knife aimed straight for my throat.