The bell above the door jingled like a warning as I stepped into Ink & Ember, my pulse hammering louder than the buzz of tattoo needles. \n\nFrank looked up from his sketchpad, ink-stained fingers freezing mid-line. Our eyes locked, and for a second, I forgot the script, forgot my mother’s pale face in that sterile room, forgot I was here to ruin him. \n\n"Can I help you?" he asked, voice low, guarded. \n\nI forced a smile, stepping forward. "I need a tattoo. Something permanent." \n\nHe studied me—the tremor in my hands, the too-careful way I held myself. "Most people pick a design first." \n\n"I already have one in mind," I said, pulling out my phone to show him the image: a phoenix wrapped in chains. His mother’s symbol. My mission. \n\nHe leaned back, skeptical. "That’s… specific. What’s it mean to you?" \n\nMy throat tightened. The truth clawed its way up—It means I’m here to break you—but I swallowed it down. \n\n"It’s about rebirth," I lied. "Breaking free." \n\nHe nodded slowly. "Then let’s begin." \n\nAs he prepped the needle, I stared at the man I was supposed to destroy. And realized—I didn’t want to win anymore.