Page 115 of Inked Athena

Yet somehow, this guy slipped through.

My fingers hover over his wrist, checking his pulse. Strong but erratic. “Sir? Can you tell me your name?”

His good eye snaps open—sharp, alert despite his injuries. He grabs my arm with surprising strength.

“Tell Litvinov…” Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. “They’re… they’re…”

Ruby barks a warning as the man’s grip goes slack. His eye rolls back, consciousness slipping away again like the tides.

My pulse hammers as the stranger’s grip tightens on my arm. Even when barely conscious, he’s surprisingly strong. Blood smears across my skin where his fingers dig in. The dogs circle us, hackles raised.

A groan rips from the man’s throat when I shift him into a more comfortable position. His face contorts, and fresh blood wells from a gash above his eyebrow.

“Rufus.” I turn to the dog. “Go get Sam. Find Sam.”

Rufus’s ears prick. He lingers for another moment, but when I say Sam’s name again, he whines and takes off toward the castle, huge paws eating up the ground with every stride.

“Help is coming.” I touch the stranger’s shoulder, careful to avoid his obvious injuries. “We have a clinic in the village. They’re discreet and?—”

“No.” His fingers clamp down harder. “No village.”

“You need medical attention. These wounds?—”

“No people.” His good eye fixes on my face with laser focus. “Only… only Litvinov.”

I try for reason. “Sir, you’re hurt. Let me at least call?—”

“Samuil.” The name comes out as a wet rasp. More fresh blood wells up and stains his teeth pink. “Need… Samuil.”

A chill skitters down my spine. Ruby whines and presses against my leg as thunder rumbles in the distance.

“C’mon, Rufus,” I mutter under my breath, looking up again and again toward the thin slice of the castle I can see through the trees. “C’mon, Sam.”

The storm is getting denser and darker overhead by the time I finally spy motion at the head of the trail. Dark shapes grow, along with the growl of matching engines, until finally, pebbles spray as a pair of ATVs skid to a stop ten feet away.

Samuil vaults off the first one before the engine dies, moving with lethal grace despite his speed. His expression shifts from concern to recognition to rage in the space of a heartbeat. Mr. Morris watches warily from the second.

“Get back, Nova.” The command cuts through the evening air.

I stay put. “He needs help.”

“Nova.” Steel threads through Sam’s voice. “Move away from him. Now.”

Reluctantly, I scoot a few feet back. The stranger tries to cling to me as Samuil approaches, but his torn jacket falls open,revealing a nasty gash leaking dark blood, and he groans again in a way that sounds worse than any noise he’s made yet.

Sam’s jaw ticks as he takes in the man’s battered face, the blood-soaked clothing. Recognition flares in his eyes, followed by something darker. More dangerous.

“Your wife…” The stranger coughs wetly. “Quite… helpful.”

“Fiancée.” Sam’s correction is automatic, but his focus stays razor-sharp on the injured man. “What happened?”

“Need to… talk.” Red-flecked spit bubbles at the corner of his mouth. “Private.”

Ruby growls as Sam crouches beside us. His hand replaces mine on the stranger’s wrist, checking his pulse. “You appearing here like this—it’s a message. From whom?”

The man’s eyes roll back once again, eerie déjà vu from just a few minutes ago. He fades back into silence.

“Mr. Morris,” Sam orders, “call the doctor. The one who knows how to be discreet.” He slides his arms under the unconscious man’s armpits and hauls him upright. “And Nova? We need to talk about your habit of helping strays.”

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