Page 18 of The Dark Stranger
A couple stepped inside, brushing snow from their coats. They looked around the shop with quiet appreciation, not judgment—eyes lingering on the artwork, the flash sheets, the framed magazine features lining the walls.
Relief settled into Becca’s chest.
“Hi,” the woman said gently. “I’m sorry—are you okay? You seemed really deep in thought. We didn’t mean to distract you.”
Her voice was kind. Careful.
Becca studied her for a second.
Christina was beautiful in a soft, unassuming way. Blonde hair pulled back loosely, standing around five-seven, with a faint country accent that warmed every word she spoke. The kind of woman who made you feel at ease without trying.
Beside her stood David.
Taller. Solid. The way he carried himself gave him away immediately—shoulders squared, movements precise. Military. The buzz cut only confirmed it.
Becca straightened, offering a small, genuine smile.
“Oh—no, you’re fine,” she said. “Please, come on in. I was just working on some new designs when you arrived.”
She gestured toward the chairs. “Have a seat.”
As they settled in, Christina glanced at the artwork again, eyes bright.
“We’re from Nevada,” she said. “We’ve been following your work for a while. We saw you featured in a couplemagazines—and then again in the news. We knew if we were going to do this, it had to be you.”
Becca’s hands paused for just a second.
Then she nodded, grounding herself.
David smiled, calm and respectful. “We want couples tattoos. Not matching—but connected. Something that only we’d understand as a set.”
That spark—that familiar pull—flickered back to life inside her.
This was why she did this.
“Okay,” Becca said, voice steady now. “I love that. Tell me your story.”
Becca didn’t overthink it.
She freehanded the designs.
Christina received the first—a male Viking, strong and grounded, a lion’s head rising above him like a crown. Power layered with protection.
David’s followed—a female Viking, equally fierce, bearing the same lion’s head. Different forms. Same meaning.
A set only they would ever understand.
They watched the lines come to life with awe, and by the time the final shading was done, both of them were smiling—quiet, satisfied, emotional in that way people get when something important is etched into their skin.
They loved it.
But throughout the day, they noticed things Becca pretended not to.
People slowed as they passed the shop.
Stares lingered too long.
Fingers pointed.
