You stepped into the Pit, the hum of tattoo machines and metallic scent of ink thick in the air. Your heart raced as you scanned the walls lined with designs, each hinting at rebellion and freedom.

Then you saw him—Eric, leaning against the wall, his presence commanding. His dark eyes locked onto yours, a silent challenge passing between you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, teasing yet genuinely curious.

“Just looking for a tattoo,” you replied, masking your uncertainty.

He smirked, folding his arms. “Really? You think you’re ready for that?”

“Why? Because I’m just an initiate?” you shot back. “I’m not afraid to make my own choices.”

“Choices come with consequences,” he countered, intensity swirling in his gaze. “Are you sure you want to bear that burden?”

You turned away, refusing to let him see your doubt. “Maybe I’m ready,” you said defiantly, scanning the wall until you found it—a delicate tattoo. “I think I’ll get this one.”

“Can’t wait to see it,” he said, something deeper flickering in his eyes before he walked away, leaving a cold emptiness behind.

The next day in the training room, sweat filled the air. You caught his eye, an electric current pulsing between you. Arms crossed, he scanned the room until his gaze locked onto yours, sending your heart racing.

Eric’s eyes roamed your body, searching for any hint of the ink you hadn’t revealed. You held his gaze defiantly, the world fading away as tension thickened.

“Are you looking for something?” you challenged, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your stomach.

“Just… noticing,” he replied, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips, but his gaze lingered at your collarbone.

“Maybe you should get a better look,” you shot back, daring him to push further, a spark igniting in your chest.

His expression hardened, yet something deeper flickered behind his gaze—conflict simmering just beneath the surface. “I might,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.