Almost no one knew about the tattoos—remnants of a past he rarely acknowledged, etched into his skin like scars. Yet here she was, the only one to uncover them.

Jinx. His little Powder.

She sat beside him on the couch in his office, jittering with barely-contained energy as usual. The meeting with Marcus dragged on, the enforcer stammering through excuses and half-measures. Silco let him speak, his patience thin but measured, the ember of his cigar burning steadily between his fingers.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jinx move closer. He said nothing, letting her restless curiosity play out. When her fingers brushed his wrist, tugging at his sleeve, he knew immediately what she was after.

The ink.

She was bolder than most—than anyone, really. No one dared touch him uninvited, not even Sevika. But Jinx had no such reservations. She tugged at his sleeve, slowly revealing the markings on his forearm. She tapped his shoulder, silently asking for more. Without thinking, he shifted, letting her roll the fabric higher.

He didn’t stop her. Why would he? He’d learned long ago that resistance only fed her curiosity, and this—this was harmless. Besides, he trusted her in a way he trusted no one else.

Marcus faltered mid-sentence, his gaze flicking between Silco and the girl at his side. Silco ignored him. “Go on,” he said evenly, gesturing for the man to continue.

Marcus stuttered back into his excuses, but Silco’s focus had shifted. He felt Jinx’s finger tracing the lines of the tattoo, her fascination palpable. Her mind was clearly racing. Silco exhaled slowly, smoke curling from his lips.

She was the only one who could strip away the layers of his carefully guarded persona with nothing more than a curious glance.

Jinx didn’t realize the power she held over him—or perhaps she did. Either way, he allowed it. Because for all her chaos, she was his. And if anyone dared question her place at his side, well… they wouldn’t live long enough to try again.