Page 67 of Inked Adonis

Ilya doesn’t give a fuck. I know my brother’s history with both dogs and guns. Having grown up in the same house as me, he’s as terrified of our father’s dogs as I was. And he’s always had an itchy trigger finger—a volatile mix of hot-headedness and self-preservation.

The sight of Nova in his crosshairs obliterates everything else.

I charge up and step in front of her, blocking her completely. “Put the gun down, Ilya.”

He doesn’t. He doesn’t take his eyes off Nova, either. “Who is she?”

“Ilya,” I snarl, “put the fucking gun down or I’ll do it for you.”

Rufus chooses this moment to let out another long, menacing growl.

Ilya flinches.

I don’t hesitate. I charge my brother, slamming into him with brutal force. I grab for his gun arm, but not before the weapon discharges.

The shot explodes through the penthouse. Glass shatters. Nova screams.

Nothing else matters as I ram my elbow into my brother’s face, disarming him in one savage motion.

The instant the gun leaves his hand, I whirl around to check on Nova. But she’s vanished. “Nova?”

Images flash through my mind: Nova bleeding out. A hole in her chest. Light fading from those golden eyes. Me kneeling over her broken body while my world collapses.

I’ve watched people die before. Too many to count. Many by my own hand.

But not Nova. Never Nova.

Then I hear her soft voice and spot her crouched in the corner by Rufus’s crate. The puppy’s trembling from the gunshot, but they’re both unharmed.

The relief that floods through me is staggering. I hadn’t realized I was drowning until I could breathe again.

“Call Myles,” I order her. “Tell him to get here now.”

Before she can respond, I haul Ilya off the floor by his arm and drag him onto the balcony.

“Get off of me,” he barks, but I don’t release him until I literally throw him into one of the deck chairs. The wood groans beneath his weight.

I position myself between him and the door. I’ll hurl him over the railing before I let him near Nova again. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Ilya lifts his hand to his nose where blood streams down his mouth and chin.

“You fucking broke it.” He stares at the blood coating his fingers like he needs visual confirmation. “You broke my nose.”

“A broken bone beats a bullet in your brain. Unless you’d prefer to test the alternative?” I wave his gun in front of him. “We can compare the options if you’d like.”

Ilya glares at the weapon, then at me. His hand drops to his lap and he erupts into laughter—the unhinged cackling of someone who’s never faced real consequences.

He blocks one nostril and blows, spraying blood across the balcony rug. “So, she’s cute as a fuckin’ button. Does she have a name?”

My jaw clenches. I know Ilya notices. “She’s the dog-walker.”

“Is that the story you’re sticking to?” The amusement dancing in his eyes tells me everything: he’s not buying it.

“Unlike you, I don’t waste time on pointless conversations, Ilya. Why are you here?”

“It’s been a minute, brother.” He drawls the word like poison. “I’d have thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“You’re thinking of our father. I’m never happy to see you.”

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