Page 13 of Inked Athena

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 thatshe’snot 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.

6

NOVA

The worst part about waking up beside a killer is wanting to stay there.

Sam’s arm is draped over my waist, his chest rising and falling against my back in a steady rhythm that makes me ache. He runs hot—a furnace of muscle and danger that should send me running. Instead, I find myself counting his breaths, memorizing the weight of him against me.

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