Page 70 of Inked Athena

My jaw tightens. I have to look away from him. Leonid would curse me for being weak—but then, he’s never had a friend he trusted. One who would jump in front of a bullet for him.

“You say that,” I snarl, “but you’re the one who put her in a situation that might make your sacrifice necessary. Every call she made, every connection reopened—it’s like painting a target on her back. On my child’s back. Ilya’s watching. He’s always fucking watching.”

“I did, and I know,” Myles says. “But it wasn’t intentional, Sam. I was stupid and shortsighted and careless—but I wasn’t malicious.”

“This doesn’t change anything. You have to go.”

“I made a mistake?—”

“A mistake that has put my family in danger!” The word “family” catches in my throat—so foreign until Nova, until our child.

Now, it’s everything.

Family.My bellow echoes against the stone walls. Even the thunder seems to go quiet at the sound of it, as if the storm itself recognizes the weight of what I could lose.

Neither of us says anything. The storm churns outside, the sky blacker than black.

“I thought I was part of your family,” Myles says softly, just as the rain starts to fall.

“You are— You were,” I correct. The alcohol is making me sluggish, slow, stupid.

“Doesn’t that entitle me to a second chance?” Myles takes a tentative step forward. “I’ll beg you if that’s what it takes, brother. This is the only life I’ve ever known. My place is with you, by your side. I didn’t want to plead my case earlier in front of Nova. I didn’t want to question your decision in front of her. But now… I can’t leave without?—”

“If you don’t leave willingly,” I interrupt, “I will drag you out myself.”

His fist tightens by his side. “You’re a stubborn ass, Samuil Litvinov.”

“No, I’m yourpakhan.”

“Not anymore.” There’s steel in Myles’s tone that matches mine now. “That’s your father talking—the same man who taught you power matters more than people. The same lesson you swore you’d never pass on to your own child.” He pauses for breath, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. “Do you want to know why I did it?”

Getting to my feet, I wave the decanter in his face like it’s a weapon. “I don’t fucking care why you did it.”

“Well, you’re going to listen anyway, you drunk son of a bitch. It’s because you left Nova here like she was a damn dog locked in a crate. You gave her nothing to rely on, no one to turn to.She was lonely. She fucking missed you. I tried to help, believe me.” He shakes his head in bitter frustration. “Hell, that fucking boat sitting on the lake right now is floating becauseIfucking repaired it. But she didn’t want me. She wantedyou.”

I hoped the scotch would make seeing reason a little more difficult. Apparently not, because every one of Myles’s words is another cold bucket of water in my face.

More unwanted images flash through my mind: Nova alone in our bed, Nova walking the grounds with no one to talk to, Nova staring at her phone like it’s a lifeline I’ve cut.

The scotch burns in my gut. It no longer numbs—it nauseates.

“Get out of my sight, man.” I shudder at the sight of the library shelves looming over me. They feel like prison bars.

I need out of this fucking place.

I shove to my feet and stride for the door. But Myles refuses to move out of the way. Instead, he blocks my path, raising his voice over the crash of rain lashing against the window in violent sheets.

“You want me to go?” Myles asks. “I will. But first, you’ll listen. Nova doesn’t need apakhan—she needs a fucking partner. She needs someone she can talk to. And since I couldn’t make you do the decent thing, yeah, I let her have some contact with her grandmother and her best friend. It was the right choice. It was the humane choice.”

I slam the decanter down. The crystal doesn’t shatter, but something inside me does. The careful walls I’ve built, the control I’ve maintained—it splinters like the sound I wanted to hear.

“Enough.”

“No, not enough!” Myles raises his voice for the first time in as long as I can remember. “Not even fucking close to enough! You say you want to be better than your father. You say you want to be different from him. But instead of learning from his mistakes, you’re intent on repeating them.”

My mouth hangs open, slack and stupid. I see myself at twelve, watching another security video of my mother’s betrayal, my father’s voice behind me.This is why we can’t trust anyone, son.

“You fucking dare?—”

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