Page 119 of Inked Adonis

“He said Ruby and Rufus ‘aren’t vicious enough to protect me from what’s coming.’ But he wasn’t specific about what exactly is coming. He might not even know. I don’t think he had a detailed threat planned. From what he implied, most people choose to take the money.”

The moment the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. Leonid said he offered Samuil’s mother money. Katerina told me Sam’s mother abandoned him when he was only a little boy. She told me he was broken because of it.

The last woman Leonid flashed cash in front of didn’t make the same choice I did.

And now, she floats between us like a ghost.

“I-is it true?” I ask. “That he gave your mother money to leave and?—”

Sam drops my hand like it burns, every muscle in his body coiling tight. “I will not discuss this with you.”

His chest rises and falls, betraying the apathy on his face.

Still, I find myself drifting towards him, seeking him out even when he pulls away. “Sam… Your family is toxic. Trust me, I know a thing or two about it. You’ll never be free until you get away from them. All of them. Like I did.”

He stays facing out of the window. “You want me to run.”

“Don’tyouwant to?” I press. “Your father mentioned that there was a time when you considered leaving the family business. He said you wanted to play hockey.”

“When I was eighteen.” In the reflection, his scowl is all I can see. The rest is shadow. “I grew up.”

“What I’m saying is, would it really be so bad to pursue a different career? A different life?” My hands clench at my sides, fighting the urge to touch him. “Working for the Litvinov Group means you have to keep your father and brother in your life. But if you left, you could be free.”

He turns to me slowly, every movement deliberate. Controlled. Like he doesn’t trust himself to move any faster. “I don’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Sam.” I grab his hand, desperate to make him understand. To save him from this darkness he’s drowning in. “You—we—can leave. We can get out of Chicago and start fresh somewhere else.”

Hope would understand. She’d visit. I could take Grams and the dogs with me.

I can picture it all so clearly it hurts—Sam and I, anonymous in some city far from here. No spies or death threats or bodyguards. Just us, building something real.

But the downward twist of his lips doesn’t bode well for my little fantasy.

“Being free is an illusion, Nova. I can’t run from the Litvinov Group—Iamthe Litvinov Group. I can’t change my name or my birthright. And I wouldn’t want to.”

He doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t feel trapped; Sam has chosen this life.

He curls a finger under my chin, forcing my eyes up to meet his. “I worked too hard to let it all go now.”

“I don’t understand.” My voice breaks. “I thought you’d want to escape.”

His face might as well be etched from stone. If so, it’s the saddest sculpture I’ve ever seen. Solemn and sorrowful all at once. “You were brave to leave your family behind, Nova, but I wasn’t built to leave or run. I was built to stand my ground and fight for what’s mine.”

I swallow, trying to blink away the tears threatening to resurface. “So what does that mean for me? For us?”

He holds my gaze for a moment. Then his hand falls away. “We’ll discuss this later. I have to leave.”

My breath hitches. “What do you mean?”

“I have to go back to Moscow. Something’s come up that requires my immediate attention.”

The intense focus on his face when I came through the door makes sense now. The way he closed his laptop does, too.

The way he won’t meet my eyes now seals the deal: this is more Bratva business.

He’s leaving. Sam is always going to be leaving and fighting and surviving, and I’m supposed to understand without ever asking questions.

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