Thorfinn Dagger Tattoo Novels & Stories

His scarred hand extended forward, holding out a long, heavy dagger enclosed in a scabbard of tarnished silver and cracked black leather. It was Thomas's old Beta dagger—the sacred weapon that had been passed down through generations of the pack’s second-in-command, its hilt still dark with the oil of his fallen friend’s palms. Devon stared at the weapon, his eyes widening as his breath hitched in his throat. He slowly reached out, his trembling fingers curling around the silver hilt, feeling the heavy, familiar weight of his true biological father's legacy anchor his grip.

My dagger. I didn’t understand how it had found its way here, I cant even remember the last time I saw it but here it was and it was definitely mine. The markings on the blade that stated it was mine and Raines. “How?” My body was still shaking from the cold as I turned it over, running my fingers along the hilt. Just like before, it felt natural. I slip it back under the pillows and pull the blankets up around me as the door flies open. Alpha Ketill ducks through the door and I see he is holding a dagger similar to mine, only his had gold markings.

Then he covered her with the quilt and kissed her forehead tenderly before leaving the way he had come. It was so liberating to stop fighting what he felt. He felt lighter. Stronger. At home, he went straight to his room. He took off his shirt and looked at his new tattoo on his chest: Silver, in its wolf form, with blue eyes and a purple lightning bolt. On his arm, he read aloud, written in the language of wolves: “Together we are strong.”

He beckoned me over. I walked to the corpse of the assassin, the one with the poison spear. Drax was holding the rogue's arm up. He had ripped the tattered sleeve away to reveal the forearm. There, branded into the greyish skin, was a tattoo. It was a black circle with a jagged red lightning bolt cutting through it. "I know this mark," Drax said, his voice grim. "It’s the sigil of the Iron Hounds. Malakar’s elite guard from the old wars."

"We just received a collection of ceremonial enforcement daggers. They're quite impressive." He led me to a display case where several silver daggers rested on black velvet. One immediately caught my eye—its handle engraved with ancient healing runes complementing the traditional enforcer symbols. "That one," I pointed. "It combines enforcement and healing symbols." "Excellent choice," the shopkeeper approved. "The runes signify protection through justice—perfect for Chief Enforcer Gray." As he wrapped the dagger, the shopkeeper gestured toward another display. "We also have men's therapy rings. They enhance energy flow and provide stress relief for dominant wolves."

A wolf with red eyes and a dagger through his head. “That’s Dimitri’s tattoo! He has one like this on his forearm. Obviously, a lot more intricate than this, but the likeness is uncanny,” she couldn’t believe it. Dimitri, her friend, and confidant who was there for her in her hour of need. “Why would he do something like this?”

My eyes drifted down to his torso, and my breath caught. God must have enlisted his finest artist to carve Killian Knight. The tattoo, a haunting web of thorned vines, began at his right hip and sprawled across his torso. Its black branches reached his heart, with another branch peeking over his left shoulder and spreading down his arm to his elbow. The intricate design, hidden beneath his clothes, was now fully exposed.

He placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “Are you sure you want to go home and pick up some stuff?” “I won’t have any clothes if not.” “I can take you shopping in the morning to get anything you need.” “What about to sleep in tonight?” “I can lend you a shirt,” his wicked smile was back. “Oh really, What’s with the wicked smile Mr. Thorn?” “Just imagining you in one of my shirts.” “Ok. Take me to yours.” “Are you sure?” “Yes. The longer I let the dust settle the better to be honest.”

I grinned as I let my true scent sniff by the last were-rogue. I can tell she’s a girl due to her stand, her size smaller than them, and her voice. She sniffs the air and closes her almost dilated red eyes while drooling sticky saliva. “Playtime…” I coldly said as I get one of my personalized sterling silver daggers. Its handle design with ancient carves with a black diamond rune at the center. While the silver blade has a small skull with the letter “D” on its forehead. It’s my signature as a well-known werewolf hunter feared by them.

My heart’s pounding as I pull my top down from my shoulder and look at Shane’s mark that is now tattooed over my shoulder; it consists of a shield which covers my shoulder. It has a sword upon it with an intricate hilt. In front of the shield is a wolf standing protectively. Shane… the shield of defence… He was ready to protect everyone, and he died a true warrior… I brush my fingers down my tattoo. Right beneath it, I had his name tattooed too. I look at Jax’s mark on my neck. It’s darker than Shane’s was. It consists of a thicket of trees, black with hues of dark green, and through the trees, you can see the dark silhouette of a wolf with yellow eyes peering out from between the trees.