Inked Athena (Litvinov Bratva Book 2)

For two days, I’ve watched Nova pretend she isn’t afraid of me. It would be easier if she was—fear is something I understand.

It’s this trust she keeps showing that’s driving me fucking insane.

The rage is, too. It hasn’t left my blood since I found her in that ravine, broken and terrified. Every time I close my eyes, I see her there—mud-streaked and trembling, injuries that I should have prevented marring her skin.

I’ve spent these last two days watching her fight through pain, knowing I’m partly responsible. If I’d been in Chicago instead of Moscow, none of this would have happened. She wouldn’t have ended up at her father’s mercy or in Ilya’s crosshairs.

The doctor who treated her injuries left an hour ago with strict instructions about rest and recovery. But Nova’s been restless since sunset, tossing and turning in the bed we’re sharing out of necessity rather than choice. The cabin only has one bedroom, and I’m not leaving her alone—not when Ilya could still be hunting her.

When I finally slip into bed beside her, it’s late. The world is dark beyond the skylight, and I can only see the silvery highlights of Nova’s cheekbones and her full lips.

But it’s enough to notice the way her lashes stir as my hand finds her hip. To register the hitch in her breathing. To register what that hitch does to mine.

Even beaten and wary, she’s the most dangerous thing in this cabin.

“You’re not asleep,” I whisper into the dark. “But I’ll let you pretend if you want to.”

We haven’t spoken about what happened in the tub earlier. As far as I’m concerned, we don’t need to.

Nova was hurt, and I wasn’t there to stop it. Now, I am. If there’s anything I can do to ease her pain, I will.

Even if it means I have to excuse myself to relieve mine immediately afterward.

She turns slightly, looking over her shoulder. In the darkness, her eyes are liquid gold. “I can’t sleep.”

“Nightmares?”

A wince crosses her face as she pulls back the cover to adjust her leg. “Pain.”

A dozen filthy ways I could help ease her discomfort flash through my mind—each one more depraved than the last—before I reach over her for the painkillers. The motion brings my chest flush against her back, and fuck if I don’t want to stay there, pressed against her soft curves.

Instead, I deposit two pills into her waiting palm. She swallows them dry before falling back against the pillow to stare through the skylight.

“So many stars,” she breathes. “It’s so open out here.”

“It looks that way from this vantage point, but then you step outside. There are too many trees and shadows and hidden ravines.”

Like everything else in my world, the view is a beautiful lie. Things are rarely what they seem.

The woman beside me should be the prime example of that, but she feels like one of the exceptions. One of the few pure things left in my blood-soaked life.

“Where would you rather be?”

“A place with room to breathe.” I could leave it there—probably fucking should—but the truth sneaks out of me before I can stop it. “My father’s worst punishments always happened in the dark corners of his woods.”

“Men like that want you to feel like you’re alone.” She gives me a sad smile that rips something open in my chest. “It’s why my father locked me in the basement.”

The same father who took care of her after her dog attack. The one who drove her to the penthouse so she could steal a server from me.

He never should’ve been close enough to touch her.

My hand curls into a fist, and I have to tear it away from her hip before I leave bruises.

“He’s never going to put you in that basement again. No one will lock you up, Nova.”

She blinks hard, gaze darting around the small room like a trapped animal. But this isn’t that. This cabin isn’t a dank basement. And I’m not her father.

I’m something far more dangerous.

I gingerly place my hand back on her hip, letting my thumb trace the jut of bone there. “Are you still in pain?”

“It’s better. The pills are helping.”

“Try to sleep, then.”

“I can’t.”

“Are you cold?” It’s a pathetic excuse to seal my body to hers, but it’s late and I stopped pretending I could resist touching her weeks ago.

She’s seen exactly how much I want her. Felt it. Tasted it.

Which is why the next words out of her mouth make no sense at all.

“Why are you here, Samuil?” She turns her head to face me fully, the gold flecks in her eyes catching the moonlight. “You didn’t come here with a gun just to nurse me back to health. Why are you really here?”

She’s right—I came here to kill anyone responsible for her pain. That was my first goal.

But the second?

“I knew you were injured and alone and scared. I knew my brother was hunting you. How could I not come?”

She studies my face with an intensity that makes my skin prickle, searching for lies in the shadows. But I’ve already given her the truth, as ugly and inconvenient as it is.

Despite everything I saw about her moves against me, I was tearing across Wisconsin backroads to reach her. My empire was under siege in Chicago, but I was moving in the opposite direction to help a woman who’d betrayed me. All because the thought of her being in danger made something primitive rear up in my chest.

Her throat bobs with a swallow. “I know Ilya sent you that video of me. I know what you’ve seen, Sam… and I know what it looks like. B-but—” She squeezes her eyes closed like she’s concentrating. “I didn’t do what it looks like. Or, I did, but not in the way they wanted.”

I know. Of course I fucking know.

As soon as I clicked “play” on that video, my question was how Nova got into this mess and why she didn’t ask for my help.

I never had to wonder if she wanted to move against me. I knew she didn’t.

But again, she stops, nervously scanning my face like she’s waiting for me to snap.

She chews on her bottom lip. “They wanted your server, so I gave them the one I knew you weren’t using.”

The second Myles told me which server was missing, I knew what she’d done—how she’d managed to both comply and protect me. My clever, dangerous girl.

“Why take it at all?”

“Because my father gave me no choice.” She wraps her arms around her middle, holding herself the way I wish I could. “I woke up after the attack in his house, and he threatened to hurt my grandmother. He said he’d throw her out on the street if I didn’t do what he asked.”

It’s exactly what I expected, but it’s so much worse to hear than I thought it would be.

After everything, Nova didn’t trust me to take care of her. She walked past my guards and stole from me and put herself within arm’s reach of the Andropovs without ever stopping to wonder if she should just pick up the phone and call me.

I could’ve protected her grandmother and dismantled the Andropovs piece by bloody piece. I could’ve handled all of it from Moscow and then come home to her safe in our bed.

Instead, we’re here.

“Did you really think I would let that happen?” I grit out angrily. “Did you really think I wouldn’t step in and protect her? Protect you?”

“I didn’t know what to think, Sam.” Her voice is hoarse and hollow, matching the emptiness in her eyes. “You weren’t there.”

There’s the truth of it.

The last few days—caring for her, being here with her—doesn’t change the fact that I wasn’t there when it mattered. My failure is etched into every new mark on her body.

“I want to go back to Chicago, Samuil,” she whispers softly. “I need to check on Grams and Hope. I need to make sure they’re okay.”

She doesn’t seem to understand that she’s not okay.

Or that I’m going to take care of all of it.

I clear my throat. “We can’t go back to Chicago yet. It might be a while before we can.”

Her eyes shimmer with tears. “Why?”

“Ilya’s out there somewhere plotting with my father or the Andropovs or fucking Katerina,” I spit. “He’s willing to work with anyone and everyone to take me down, and I don’t know who else he might be working with. Until I know, I can’t let you go back.”

“How long will that take?”

The real question is tucked just under the surface. How long do I have to stay here with you?

“It’ll take as long as it takes.”

She flinches like I’ve struck her. “Will we be— Where will you put me?”

She says it as if she’s some doll I’ll put away on a shelf. Or a little girl I’ll stash in a basement.

She says it like she’s afraid.

“I’m going to take you somewhere safe and watch over you.”

How many times am I going to have to explain myself? And how many times will it take before she believes it?

Her lips part, and I brace for pushback or pleading. In the end, she snaps her mouth shut and rolls onto her side.

The silence stretches, rippling with tension and all the things I should say to her but don’t. All the promises I want to make but can’t trust myself to keep.

When her breathing evens out, I let myself touch her again. I lay a soft hand on her waist, her warm skin soaking into my fingertips.

I need to be patient. Let her see that I’m trying to protect her. That keeping her away from Chicago and our families is the only thing that makes sense.

But patience was never one of my virtues.

And at this point, all I’ve got left are sins.

Nova shifts in her sleep, mumbling something that sounds like my name. It hits me then—what I’ve been avoiding since I found her in that ravine.

I didn’t come to Wisconsin to save her.

I came because I can’t live without her.

And if I have it my way, starting tomorrow, I’ll never live without her again.