Novelas y relatos de Trafalgar Law Tattoos

“No more lies. No more pretending, Ava. Not with me. Not here.” He yanked his tie loose, pulling it from his neck, then unbuttoned the rest of his shirt with quick, efficient movements. He shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor in a discarded heap, revealing the broad, sculpted planes of his chest, the taut muscles of his abdomen, and the ink-dark wolf sigil tattooed just over his heart—a swirl of intricate lines, stark and powerful, a cruel, beautiful symbol of his raw, untamed dominance. It pulsed with a primal energy that drew my gaze, mesmerized and terrified.

That was when I noticed the tattoos. His back was adorned with an intricate design of large black wings, streaked with delicate gold traces that shimmered faintly in the low light. The wings spanned across his shoulders and down his back, a masterpiece that was both beautiful and intimidating. They exuded a silent warning, a "do not mess with me" aura that fit him perfectly. Yet, despite their commanding presence, I felt no fear. This was Alessandro. The man who had carried me, who had stood by me even when I pushed him away. He wasn’t a threat—he was my protector.

The training grounds for the troops were crowded with males that surrounded the entire ring. Elise could not help but feel intrigued as she walked closer, finding a part to squeeze through as she noticed who stood on the ring. Kaide and Taz were both shirtless; Taz's muscles were hard and thick; his left arm was covered with a black band; and he had two striped tattoos. Elise had noticed that it was on all the males' left arm; one band meant you were delta, two bands were beta, and three bands were alpha, like the one she saw on Rygan's body.

For the most part, the packs got along but there was still always a sense of authority that was tested. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you look good. Can’t be representing our pack badly.” Jacob was getting our Crest tattooed on his chest. It was the head of a wolf with its teeth showing and blue blood dripping from the fangs. Kind of spot on for whoever designed it but whatever.

But only I know that the cheer is not from my heart. I don’t find the need to celebrate the Lupin’s downfall, but I have to do so for Chelsea’s sake. “Isn’t it a breathe of fresh air knowing we finally got what we wanted?” Chelsea remarks excitedly while clinking glasses with me. “Now show us the tats, will you?” “it’s still fresh.” “Even so.” I remove my jacket. Chelsea turns me around to view the tats. What I requested was a butterfly and a rose, while Chelsea added that a bird would look good as well.

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?

"All the brigadiers and lieutenants have arrived, Pakhan. They all are waiting for you. As per your order, the official tattoo artist is here too." Aleksandr nodded while Aria frowned at the information. "Tattoo artist?" She asked her husband. "Yes, if you had been my wife only, there would have been no need for a tattoo but you want to be a power partner. It means you are officially joining Bratva. This tattoo is going to be your crown, Aria. This is your last chance, if you want to back out do it now, because the tattoo is sacred. You have to wear it whole your life like a religious sign "

Running down his spine was a tattoo of a dagger, flanked by two cobras coiled around its blade, each poised to strike the other. The crossguard was shaped into a Trinacria—its eyes hollow and haunting, its hair a wild tangle of serpents. On its three bent legs were the words etched in a stark, gothic script: Famiglia, Orgoglioso, Patria. The ink stretched over the planes of his back like a warning—Family, Pride and Homeland. He stood up, and my suspicions were confirmed—completely naked, without a hint of shame. He slept next to me completely naked—fucking naked. But before I could even start to argue or throw some biting comment his way, something else pulled my focus—his ass.

I bow my head, pretend to focus on the screen. "You were staring," he says in a low, amused voice. He leans against my desk, arms crossed, towering over me. "My tattoos interest you?" I shake my head, too quickly. "No, I… it's nothing." He chuckles softly. "Liar." He pulls up the left sleeve of his t‑shirt, revealing more of the raven and other symbols: a miniature cathedral, eight‑pointed stars, Cyrillic numbers. "Every design has a story. The raven… it's for memory. For those we've lost, but never forget. The stars are rank. The cathedral… the faith you keep even when everything else goes to hell."

The coachman courageously continued when he saw that Matteo was under Adrian’s control, “Shaquille even called you ‘sir!’” Matteo broke down. However, he could not move, so he yelled as if he was crestfallen, "It's all slander! You can kill me, but you won’t ever tarnish my reputation!" Adrian chuckled. Matteo was just so stubborn. The tattoo on his chest was evidence. Everyone knew that the symbol of the Wolf Fangs was a wolf. Moreover, the wolf head tattoo on Matteo’s chest represented his status and position in the Wolf Fangs. As long as others saw it, they had to obey him unconditionally.