- 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 -
"It's knowing that this can't go on forever... likely one of us will have to spend some days alone."
In the three years since Hunter Callahan had joined firehouse 118, she had found a family that no matter how hard she tri...
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LET YOU DOWN. chapter fourteen.
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HUNTER HAD HER EYES TRAINEDon the ceiling as she laid back in the padded seat. A low deep hum echoed out from the vibration of the tattoo gun as it traced its way over her arm— the left one that was previously an empty canvas in comparison to the right one which already held sunflowers and an arrow head.
It was her first tattoo in color, a tribute to her late brother as the stencil was the same as the tattoo he once held on his own forearm. An old paint bucking horse with a cowboy on its back, a classic tattoo in numerous different styles. But she didn't want something different, she wanted something that represented Cody Callahan.
Hell, she already held the sunflowers on one forearm for Lane, she might as well dedicate the other forearm to Cody.
The artist, Jacob, was rather quiet but Hunter enjoyed the silence— minus the hum of the tattoo gun that created a peaceful pattern that brought comfort to Hunter as she laid still, only able to think rather than actually do anything.
There were lots of things on her mind, there always were. She had yet to open the little box that soldiers returned to her on the day of her brothers funeral. She didn't have to, she knew exactly what she would find— a custom made forty caliber bullet with a language she didn't understand carved into the side of it. The same kind of bullet that had shot her in early 2018.
There was something so unnerving about the fact that the same man who she used to psychologically torture— and used to do the same to her— killing her own brother. An underlying sense of guilt sat in Hunters stomach every time she thought of Cody, wondering if it was just a subtle reminder from T. Solotov that he was still around. Or maybe it was one last mind game that he couldn't pass up.
A long standing rivalry between the Callahan and the Solotov wasn't unknown. Hell, Solotov was the one that pulled the trigger on the bullets that killed Donny Fenn and decommissioned Hunter.
The blonde woman was snapped out of her thoughts as the humming of the tattoo gun went silent. "All done," Jacob chimed in, as he brought a wetted towel to clean of the ink residue from her arm, "we can do touch ups in another six months if you're interested."
