Itachi Tattoo Crow Novels & Stories

It's simple, yet, captivating. It features the Italian flag in colour, a black and white rose, rosary beads entwine with the stem and thorns, and the Esposito name is carved into the rose's shaded knuckle busters that rest beneath the rose with a single petal beside it. "I'm going to cut this from your body," I tap the scalpel against his tattoo, "And I'm going to keep it as a souvenir in my husband's family home." I sneer with a wicked smile playing on my lips.

"How many tattoos do I have in total?" "Four." And he goes on to explain what they are. “The Crow tattoo on the back of your left shoulder, the tribal tattoo on your spine, the lotus flower on the back of your neck, and my mark, right here.” He gently caressed his mark on my left collarbone, and immediately, I felt the pull and comfort towards him. I nodded. “Okay, you're Ryan, okay.” He glared at me and I laughed. “Say my name again.” “Ryan.” I scoffed.

“And didn’t I tell you to drop the formalities when we’re alone, darling?” I have heard of the Dread Moon pack wolves being tattooed, but I have never seen one in person before. His right arm and pectoral are adorned with black ink, and I spy his pack crest amidst some rose designs. It is actually quite a beautiful tapestry and something inside of me seems to pull me toward him.

Immediately, I jerked my eyes upward. Too late. Those butt cheeks can’t leave my head, not for a very long time. I hated that my face was getting hot. Then I noticed the tattoos. A black raven stretched across his back, its wings half-spread on the back of his shoulders as though caught between flight and stillness. On his right shoulder was a black serpent curled over his left pec, glaring at the raven with so much intensity while the raven looked lonely and, worse, sad. More ink trailed across his back. Script. Symbols. Lines disappearing beneath fabric.

The weight of the moment was palpable, heightened by the realization that the priest standing beside me was none other than Krystallo, the infamous mafia priest known for his merciless acts. My eyes inadvertently drifted towards the cross-shaped tattoo, intertwined with a viper, adorning Krystallo's neck. The intricate design served as a chilling reminder of the countless lives he had taken and the blood that stained his hands. It was a symbol of power and ruthlessness, one that sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened criminals.

I almost wanted to laugh at how dramatic I had made it up to be in my mind. Damiano then grabbed the card, and my brows went up when I recognized the image on it. It was the very same one he had tattooed on his chest. The hooded skull, the crown, and the massive angel wings. It was my favorite tattoo of his. One I had memorized and recreated many times in my sketchbook.

Clara and following him were Ajay, Calvin, and Miles with a sword in hand. “King Raiden, if that’s who you are, we demand Shuntha’s head!” Yelled a bald, broad-shouldered, tattooed man. He had a flat wide nose and was missing his two canine teeth, any chance he had he would make any excuse to take off his shirt. His body was covered in tattoos and scars, his most prominent scars were along his forehead as if he was getting scalped. The next ran along his throat and finally one ran along the left side of his face cutting through his eye and lips. He was partially blind because of this, and his eye was almost white but it didn’t stop him from causing the most trouble.

His keen eyes scrutinized the body, tracing the intricate patterns of tattoos etched into the attacker's skin. "This is no ordinary assailant," Elder Broja began, his voice low and gravely. "These tattoos, they speak of allegiance to a specific pack. Each mark represents a vow, a bond, a commitment to their cause." I exchanged a troubled glance with Lyra, sensing the gravity of the situation deepen with each passing moment. "What do these tattoos signify?" I inquired, my voice tinged with apprehension. Elder Broja's gaze bore into mine, his expression grim. "These symbols are ancient, passed down through generations. They denote allegiance to the Eclipse Pack, a ruthless faction known for th

A second masked man had appeared and had succinctly sneaked up to deliver the blow. Fuck it! Fuck being weak! Before my consciousness went off, I caught sight of the tattoo mark on the shoulder of the second man. His sleeveless arm featured the tattoo of a tiger, a snake and a crown. That insignia was very familiar. But my brain couldn't conjure where I had seen it before. I kept staring at it as my eyes shuttered to a close, just then an image popped up in my mind's eye. Wait….what the actual hell?

Slowly, he turns away from me, tugs at his shirt, and lifts it up. There! Pristine and raw, is a new tattoo on his skin. A black crown on his shoulder. My mouth goes dry and suddenly I can hear Layla as if she’s standing here with me: Tattoos. Every man of the Bratva has some. Some signify their past deeds, terrible or great things they’ve done, and their ranks. It doesn’t take a genius to know what the crown means. I'd suspected Yannick planned to kill me, but now I know for sure.