Page 17 of Inked Athena

Maybe it’s a good thing I wasn’t strong enough to fight Samuil. It could’ve gotten us both killed.

“Why does Ilya want me so badly?”

“Because he knows the best way to get to Samuil is through you. You’re his weak spot.”

I laugh out loud.

Myles does not. He isn’t even smiling anymore. “Sam is my best friend. He can be a dick and he’s colder than an ice rink in Siberia in February, but I love him anyway. Because he’s a good man. He’s a million times the man his brother could ever hope to be. If you think this escape is some ploy to kidnap you and make your life miserable, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

It wouldn’t be the first time. My track record lately is absolute shit.

“So what is it?” I ask, fearing I already know the answer.

“It’s the only way he knows to keep you alive.”

My head sags between my shoulder blades, and Myles reaches over to squeeze my knee. “You’ve survived a lot in the last few days—the last few months, really. You can survive this, too.”

I’m not sure anyone is strong enough to survive Samuil Litvinov. Not when he looks at you like you’re everything he wants and everything he can’t trust. Not when his touch sets your skin on fire even as his eyes freeze your blood. Not when he carries you like you’re precious cargo one minute and eyes you like a potential threat the next.

Least of all me, the girl who can’t decide if she wants to kiss him or knee him in the balls.

The girl who betrayed him and still can’t stop wanting him.

The girl who no longer has a choice.

7

SAMUIL

The last yacht party I attended in Sardinia ended with two dead bodies and a forty-million dollar deal to import black market firearms.

Tonight,The Sofiacarves relentlessly through the Mediterranean, her hull as black as the secrets she carries. No champagne. No caviar. No elite parasites comparing the sizes of their offshore accounts.

Just the whisper of waves against steel, the echo of the crew’s boots on teak, and Nova—my broken bird, who looks seconds away from throwing herself into the endless dark below.

“The security system rivals most government facilities.” Captain Andreas drones on about surveillance and defensive capabilities while Nova drifts closer to the railing. Her fingers trail along the polished metal, testing. Searching. “Would you like to see the command center?”

“Later.” I dismiss him with a sharp nod.

Nova’s shoulders tense at my approach, but she doesn’t move away when I join her at the rail. The moon paints silver paths across black water that stretches to infinity. Different from the Wisconsin woods that cradled us, sheltered us. Out here, we’re exposed. Vulnerable.

But also untouchable. Let them try to reach us now.

“Are you hungry?” The question slips out before I can stop it. Feeding her, keeping her strong—these are problems I know how to solve. Not like the shadows haunting her eyes or the bruises marking her skin.

“No.” Her voice is barely audible.

“Nova—”

“I need to lie down.” She turns away, won’t even look at me as she asks, “Where is the room?”

“Below deck. First door on the left.”

She limps away, every step a reminder of what my brother did to her. Of what I failed to prevent. The Nova who challenged me at every turn, who squared her shoulders and spat defiance in my face—that woman is buried beneath layers of fear and betrayal.

I pace the deck like a caged animal, muscles coiled tight with the need to hunt. To destroy. Ilya is still breathing somewhere on this earth, and that fact alone makes my trigger finger itch. But Nova needs protection more than she needs vengeance.

Even if she hates me for it.

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