Page 40 of Inked Athena

They’re all gone.

I repeat it to myself again and again, but it doesn’t feel real.

Is this shock? Is that why I’m not horrified or grieving for the men who shaped half my life? Is that why my mind keeps circling back to one terrifying thought:

If the Andropovs executed my father and brothers for failing them… what would they do to me?

My hands curl protectively around my stomach. There it is—real fear finally cracking through the numbness, sending violent shivers up my spine. The evening air feels arctic against my clammy skin.

I picture the people I actually love: Hope’s bright laugh, Grams’s gentle hands, Myles’s steady loyalty, Samuil’s fierce devotion. I press my palms more firmly against my belly, where our child grows beneath my heart. Tears blur my vision of the sprawling Scottish grounds, turning the castle into a dark smear against the purple twilight sky.

The Andropovs didn’t just kill my father and brothers—they made examples of them. Left their bodies in the street like warnings. My father, who terrorized our neighborhood for decades, died cowering in the gutter.

What horrors would they dream up for the woman who betrayed them? For Samuil Litvinov’s pregnant lover?

The grass beneath my fingers suddenly feels like a funeral shroud. I could run. Take the Range Rover and disappear into the Highlands. Keep my child safe from all of this.

But even as the thought forms, I know it’s pointless. There’s no running from this life anymore. No hiding from who and what Samuil is. No protecting our baby from the legacy of violence it will inherit.

The only way out is through—and the only way through is with Samuil beside me.

I push myself to my feet, one hand still pressed to my stomach. The castle looms before me. Ancient. Dark. Unmoving.

Either this place will be my prison, or it will be my fortress.

It’s time to decide which.

15

SAMUIL

I find her by the loch hours later.

She’s a silhouette cut against the dark horizon, a shape that would make better men than me fall to their knees and pray. But I stopped believing in divine intervention the day my mother took twenty grand and walked away from her son forever.

Her face is turned up to the sky. Moonlight paints her cheeks silver. But when she turns her eyes on me, they’re hard and cold.

I hoped leaving her alone would help her process the news about her family, but Nova has never been one to waste time on grief when anger is an option.

“It’s cold. You should come inside.”

She tugs her sweater more tightly around her shoulders. “I’m fine right here.”

“Nova—”

“Why can’t I speak to Hope or Grams?” she demands. “They’re not involved in any of this.”

I slide my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “And we want to keep it that way. I have men watching them around the clock. If there’s a target on their backs, we’ll know about it.” The wind bites through my jacket, reminding me that Scottish autumn nights are brutal. “But I’ve underestimated the Andropovs before. I won’t make that mistake again. If they’re monitoring Hope or your grandmother, we can’t risk giving them more reasons to act.”

I don’t mention how Ilya or Katerina would love nothing more than to gut Hope or Serena just to watch Nova break. Just to watch me shatter as I hold the pieces of her.

This woman isn’t just my weakness. She’s a collar around my throat, a target on my chest, and the only thing that makes my black heart beat. My enemies know it.

And now she’s paying for it.

“My grandmother lost her son and two grandsons in one day.” Her voice breaks. “She’s going to be terrified of losing her only granddaughter, too.”

“I’ve sent word as securely as I can to both Hope and Serena. They know you’re safe.”

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