Tris Tattoo Insurgent Novels & Stories

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 hesitantly accepted and dropped it after one hurried shake of our arms. He immediately turned his back to me and began heading to the center of the sparring ring. When he pivoted around I momentarily caught a glimpse of the back of his neck. I was taken aback when I spotted not one, but a plethora of Molnija marks, small tattoos shaped like lightning bolts coming together in an X. Each tattoo signified a Strigoi kill and was usually accompanied by our Guardian insignia upon entry of service. Many Guardians kept their hair shorter or pulled back to show them proudly. I supposed I had only seen him with his hair down up until that point, but for a moment I couldn't believe my eyes. I started

“I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to halt, Sergeant Cruz. This is not a good time for a visit.” Taio’s lips broke out a twisted smirk. “What if I insist?” A new veneer of frost had begun to seize Joe’s expression. “I suggest you don’t, Taio Cruz. We, the Insurgent Trifecta, do not welcome your presence.”

His fingernails were painted black, and his face closely shaved. Rhett had pulled his hair back into a ponytail, exposing the tattoo of the Triquetra on the point of his cheekbone beneath his left eye, something he had added to each of them that morning and planned to add to Aislen when they brought her back. The small tattoo had been far less painful than the one on Heath’s back of the river house, though Cameron had a different opinion. For someone who liked sex with a side of pain, he’d complained throughout the tiny tattoo.

he replied. “What does the mark look like?” I asked curiously, eyebrows furrowed deeply. “A tattoo of a trident on their arm. It is usually inscribed on their right forearm,” he explained. I slowly rubbed my jaw, taking a wall down memory lane. “I might have seen that mark somewhere, but I can't seem to recall.” “Don't be so hard on yourself. We're almost there anyway,” he said, pointing towards a hill right before us. The top appeared foggy from below, making it hard to believe that life existed up there.

Tristian points out reasonably and As I think about it, I can’t help but see that he just might be right. There are indeed thousands of people with the same tattoo, same spot. The last thing I want to do is to jail an innocent person. I know how that feels like. Thinking more about that, eve marigold has that same tattoo. Same spot as that’s quite a popular spot for that type of tattoo. I’m not saying it’s marigold in the frame as she’s obviously a female but what if the person is one of her holigan friends and the tattoo is somewhat a symbol of their friendship bond?

Rogers spoke into his wrist and was almost immediately joined by another agent as the group entered the locker room. “Hey, Celt,” Taz asked quietly. “When did I get engaged?” “About four minutes ago.” Celt replied with a grin. “It worked.” “I think I had more to do with that.” Rogers countered as he and the other agent checked the locker room. Twenty minutes later, she wore her skin tight long-sleeve shirt and coordinating shorts. The shirt had a picture that Ink had drawn out of a devil with rainbow colored hair. Her last name was emblazoned above the devil on the back and Taz was written across the front with the T having devil horns and a tail on the Z. Around the bottom of the shirt, in

CHAPTER 11 Nova Sterling Point Of View “Look.” Vangh's lips brush my ear as he points to his chest. A fake tattoo stretches across his breast, reading “Property of Alpha House.” Which now peels off like old wallpaper. His real tattoo markings surface underneath. It’s a rebel symbol hidden all along, a secret no one knows. Sloane appears beside us, stretching her knife at Vaughn's throat. “You lying bastard.” Her wedding dress smells of burnt sugar- sharp and sweet. “How long have you been working for the rebels?”

"She mentioned that the perpetrator had a tattoo on their wrist. I need to know if you've encountered anyone who bears such a mark." Sage's brow furrows as he delves into his memories, recounting the encounters our warriors have faced. After a brief silence, he nods slowly. "I recall a skirmish we had with a rogue clan a few moons ago," he reveals, his eyes fixed on me. "They bore a distinctive mark—a tattoo on their wrists, depicting a serpent entwined with a wolf. They were formidable opponents." My heart skips a beat at the revelation. It's a lead, a tangible thread connecting us to the attacker. "Tell me everything you know," I implore, my voice brimming with determination.

It disappears beneath the fabric of the tank top, hinting at a larger tapestry that covers his torso. "What’s that one?" I point to a symbol on his rear deltoid. It looks like a wolf, but abstract, geometric. "Ink," he deadpans. "You don't say. I thought it was a very specific bruise." I lean closer, squinting. "It looks tribal. But not the I got drunk in Cancun kind of tribal. It looks meaningful. Is it a gang thing? A badge of honor for every time you successfully intimidated a client into silence?"