"JACK THE RIPPER HAS KILLED AGAIN!"

I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets and turned away from the little boy selling newspapers on the corner.

"JACK THE RIPPER HAS KILLED HIS FIFTH VICTIM!"

The cobblestone streets of Whitechapel were bustling, but I ignored everyone. I had to get home and prepare. Pledging to take down the infamous Ripper had been a vow I had yet to make good on. In the beginning, I had been too slow and it had cost four more women their lives. Tonight, would be different. Tonight, I would finish him off once and for all.

A grey mist filled the sky as my thoughts faded to my Aunt Mary Anne, but I just called her Aunt Polly. She may have been forgotten by most of our family, but I still cared about her. Sure, she drank too much and funded this bad habit by being a lady of the night, but she and I still had a connection. When mother would make soup, I always insisted on cleaning up, saving the last bit for Aunt Polly. The joy in her eyes when I would visit with food and a little pocket change was undeniable.

While I had hoped that she would stay off the streets, there wasn't much work for women like Aunt Polly. Far from her youth and addicted to the bottle, she wasn't able to contribute to society, like she once had, but she was still a human being and a member of our family.

Letting out a slow exhale, I ascended the stone staircase to my family's apartment. Enjoy your last few hours, Jack.

As I pushed through the front door, my mother greeted me with a tired smile. "How was your day, Olivia?"

"Fine, Mother," I replied. Little did she know, in a few hours I planned on killing the man responsible for her sister's death.

"How are your fingers?" she asked.

Looking down, I curled my fingers and winced. Red and sore, I let them fall to my sides. "Feeling a bit better." Lying to my mother about my life had become a regular practice. At least after tonight, I could lie about one less thing...

"Supper will be ready soon. Would you mind cutting the bread?" my mother asked.

Nodding, I rinsed my hands before grabbing a razor-sharp knife.

As the crust buckled under the blade, I imagined plunging it into Jack's heart.

"Tell your father that supper is ready," my mother said as she loaded a large platter with bowls of stew. "He's in his study."

The room had once belonged to my older brother, but he had married and moved to the northern part of the country. It had been months since I had seen him.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Father, it's time for supper."

"Olivia, did you hear?" he responded, his voice heavy with burden.

"Hear what, Father?" I asked, although I already knew what he was going to say.

He stood and joined me in the hallway. "The Ripper has struck again. At this rate, hundreds will die before that monster is caught!"

I laid a hand on his shoulder, his face growing a darker shade of crimson by the second. "Someone will catch him. I know it."

His shoulders dropped. "I can only hope you're correct, Olivia."

As we made our way into the kitchen, I glanced at the knife sitting next to the sink. Don't worry, Father. By the end of the night, no one will ever have to worry about Jack the Ripper ever again.

***

It's time. I clutched the edge of the bed, my feet practically cemented to the floor, refused to move. Olivia, you cannot let others die. You have to get up. They are depending on you.

Standing up, walked over to my dresser and pulled out a black cape. You won't even see me coming... I smirked as I tied my hair back and secured it with a thin piece of dark fabric.

I tiptoed from my room, down the hall, and into the kitchen. Reaching for my mother's apron, I heard a quiet craaaaaack and frozen. Looking down, I applied more weight to the board under my right foot. The same craaaaack filled the room. Stepping to the side, I wrapped the same knife I had used to cut the bread earlier that night.

Glancing toward the hallway, I thought back to the last time Aunt Polly had been to our apartment. She had found my father's bottle of brandy and immediately downed it. He would have let it slide, but not my mother. She screamed at her sister and threw her out of the house.

Before the Ripper murdered her, she had lived on the street and worked as a prostitute. She didn't deserve that life and she certainly didn't deserve to die at the hands of the nefarious Ripper.

Placing the wrapped knife in the large pocket of my cape, I snuck out the door without a sound.

As I exited the building, I was met by a cold and dreary rain. No matter, he'd be out tonight. Hunting for an unsuspecting victim. Someone he would mutilate without a second though. Pulling the cape around my shoulders, a small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Not tonight, Jack.

The walk to Whitechapel took just over twenty minutes. I went over all of the facts I knew about the Ripper. One, he wore a black top hat and slim fitted coat. Two, he had steely grey eyes, frightening enough to stop you in your tracks. Three, while I didn't know his real name, I knew that he drank at the pub on the corner and the bartender called him Arthur. Four, I would never forget his face. I had literally bumped into him after he killed his second victim. I should have known then something was wrong with the horrid man. Five, the next time I had seen him, he had the rings of one of his victims around his pinky finger. I knew it was him and I knew I needed to end his life before he sent any more innocent victims to the grave.

Looking from right to left, I clutched my cape and scurried across the street and toward the pub. A drunk man with his arm around a woman with long stringy hair stumbled out. My eyebrows show up as I studied him. What if I'm too late? What that's him?

Jumping from the shadows, I lunged forward and stopped dead in my tracks in front of the couple. The man's bright blue eyes shot open in surprise.

"Wh- wh- what are you doing?" he stammered.

The woman turned her nose up at me and pulled on the man's arm. "Let's go, Edward."

I let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't him. It wasn't Jack the Ripper.

Gathering my courage, I took a deep breath and pushed through the doors. A mixture of ale and body odor floated in the air. Bile crept up the back of my throat as I searched the bar for the Ripper's face.

There you are, I thought as I wove through the crowded room. Swallowing my fear, I squeezed in next to him and leaned across the bar. "One gin, please."

Turning toward Jack, I brought my shaky hands together. His piercing eyes stared back at me, as if daring me to talk to him. No, wait him out. Draw him in.

After several seconds passed, he cleared his throat. "What is such a fine lady like yourself doing at a place like this?"

I paused, giving him a lingering smile. "I like a gin before bed. Helps me sleep."

He frowned. "Every night?"

Lay it on thick! "When you're in the kind of work I am, it can be hard to sleep at night."

Before he could ask another question, I reached forward and placed my hand on his chest. "What's a handsome and respectable man like yourself doing out at a place like this?"

"I find it hard to sleep as well." His voice was as soft as velvet. No wonder he's able to lure so many women to his death.

"What type of demons torment you?" I asked. Little did he know, I already knew about his demons. Everything from his tendency to beat women as a younger man to the bizarre sexual fetishes he developed after sleeping with several prostitutes from Whitechapel.

His face froze. Sensing I had been too forward, I forced a giggle, "Do you hit the bottle too often or have a strong liking for women?"

He immediately smiled, relaxing his face. "I must admit, I like both."

"One gin for the pretty lady," said the bartender with a wink.

I thanked him and looked back at the man I had identified as Jack the Ripper. It wasn't hard to piece everything together and after I had, I went straight to the police. But no, why would they listen to an unwed young woman? I tried my mother and father next, but they didn't believe me either. Instead, they thought I had been reading too much in between my shifts at the garment factory. "You always have your nose in a mystery book. No wonder you think you can solve crimes!"

The work I had put in took up all of my free time. Hours upon hours were spent with my head buried in the newspaper or reading old forensics files from the Ripper's first attacks. The city's coroner just happened to be the brother of Mr. Adams, the man who owned the garment factory I worked at. He had lost his daughter in a tragic accident and often treated me as his own. When I expressed my interest in the Ripper case, his eyes had lit up. He had brought me file after file, filled with disturbing images and documents that would make most retch upon reading.

We had spent hours discussing the case and flushing out potential suspects. I'd almost told him after I had figured it out, but I didn't want to put him in any harm. He had been so kind to me, plus he had a family to look after. He didn't need to be sneaking through the streets of Whitechapel to end the Ripper's life. No, that was my job.

"Cheers," said Jack, raising his half-empty glass to mine.

We clinked our glasses together as I eyed up the two brass rings he wore around his pinky. I knew they belonged to one of his victims. He had pried them off her dead body after slicing her open.

"My name is Rose," I said after setting my glass down. "What's yours?"

He tilted his head to the side. "My name is Arthur, but my friends call me Art."

"Well, Art, it's nice to meet you," I said, batting my eyelashes.

He took my hand in his and brought it to his lips. "How about we spend some time together down the road at my flat?"

My heart started racing. This was it. It was time to kill Jack the Ripper.

"Well?" he asked, his fingers brushing against my palms.

"That sounds lovely," I lied.

He flagged down the bartender with two shiny coins pinched between his thumb and pointer finger.

"Why, thank you," I said, after he paid for our drinks and offered me his arm.

As we worked our way through the pub, he pulled my body toward his. Holding my breath, I pressed my lips together until we exited the building.

Jack led me to down the street and past two of the locations where his victims had been found.

"My place is just through this alley," he said, motioning with his shoulder.

This was it. He was going to try to kill me in the alley. With shaky hands, I dug through the pocket in my cape and wrapped my fingers around the handle of the knife I had been concealing.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" a familiar voice boomed from the darkness of the alley.

Squinting, my eyebrows shot up as Mr. Adams emerged with a blade in hand. WHAT IS HE DOING HERE?

In a flash, Jack dropped my hand and brandished a dagger. "LEAVE US ALONE, OLD MAN!"

Mr. Adams would perish in an instant if he stood up to a younger and much quicker Jack the Ripper.

Reaching forward, I wrapped my fingers around the Ripper's damp coat and pulled his body back toward mine with all of my might.

Completely caught off guard, Jack stumbled backward and on to the cobblestone street.

"I wouldn't have done that if I were you," he snarled as he pounced back to his feet.

With our knives drawn, the three of us stood face to face, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Deciding if I didn't try to kill the Ripper first, he would surely kill me and Mr. Adams, I lunged toward the Ripper, my blade aimed at his throat. "THIS IS FOR MY AUNT POLLY," I screamed as my blade made contact with his forehead.

Blood gushed down his face as Mr. Adams charged him. What he didn't have in speed, he made up for in size. Mr. Adams easily tackled the Ripper to the ground, slamming the hand he held his knife in into the ground.

An idea flashed through my mind. I had been hell bent on killing him, but in an instant, I changed my mind.

I jumped behind Mr. Adams and slammed the Ripper's head backward. His body went limp, but his chest continued to rise and fall.

Mr. Adams grabbed the Ripper's knife and held it in the air, ready to plunge it down into the man's chest at any moment.

"No, wait," I said, holding my own knife out. "He doesn't deserve a quick death."

Grabbing my knife as close to the blade as possible, I began carving letters across the Ripper's face. A wicked smile crossed my face as I pulled up his shirt and carved a matching message on the man's chest. They both read, "JACK THE RIPPER: DO NOT TOUCH!"

Mr. Adams looked down at the Ripper and shook his head. "Are you sure we shouldn't end him?"

After wiping the bloody blade on my black cape, I slipped my knife back into my mother's apron. "No, for this will be a punishment that will remain with him for a lifetime. He will never escape his crimes nor will he ever be able to lure women into dark alleyways ever again."

Mr. Adams nodded and helped me to my feet. "You were extraordinarily brave tonight, Olivia."

"Thank you, Mr. Adams. I'm just grateful that the reign of Jack the Ripper is finally over."

---

JACK GETS A NEW TATTOO is dedicated to ThrillingGalReads and jdfanff! Thank you both for your amazing support and friendship! It means the world to me! Also, a big shoutout to Tattoo Mike (GregCarrico, thanks for passing on the message), who gave me the inspiration for the title! ;)

Hearts and Daggers,

Kelly Anne Blount xoxo

USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR, Wattpad Star, Wattpad Ambassador, SpoilerTV Writer, and Host of the Wattpad Block Party

Hey! I'm Kelly Anne Blount (), the bestselling author of Captured, Shade, Under, Grishma, Ayla, Impassioned, Order of the Mist (in progress), and Solutus (in progress).

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