Inked Athena (Litvinov Bratva Book 2)

Rain hammers the windows of my London office like artillery fire. Each drop is another fucking reminder that I’m trapped in this concrete hellhole while Nova’s alone at the castle.

My jaw clenches hard enough to crack teeth. I yank the curtains mostly closed and London disappears from sight—I can’t even look at this godforsaken city without wanting to set it on fire just to be back with her.

My mind is a mess. I should be strategizing how to destroy my traitorous brother, figuring out my next move now that Ilya’s slithered off to fucking Siberia of all places.

Instead, I’m remembering the way Nova hurled that antique vase at my head last night. The way her eyes blazed with rage when I told her she couldn’t come with me. The sharp sting as broken porcelain sliced my cheek.

Pregnant women aren’t supposed to have that good of an arm.

My phone buzzes with another update from my team in Russia. Nothing concrete, just more speculation about Ilya’s location, his next moves, whether Katerina’s joined him yet. I rake a hand through my hair, resisting the urge to hurl the device through the window.

A month ago, I had them exactly where I wanted them—Ilya exposed as a traitor, Katerina’s schemes unraveling. Then Nova got caught in their crossfire and I had to shift focus to keeping her safe.

Now, here I am, trying to project strength by returning to London to handle Litvinov Group business, while my heavily pregnant girlfriend is hidden away in Scotland.

Mess. It’s all just a big fucking mess.

The office door opens and Myles strides in, shaking rain from his coat. His expression tells me he has news before he even opens his mouth.

“Just heard from Artem,” he says without preamble.

I straighten, shoving thoughts of Nova aside. “The Siberia lead?”

“Still trying to pin down specifics, but it’s definitely Ilya. No sign of Katerina yet.”

“Fuck.” I turn back to the window. Through the curtain gap, I see umbrellas bob through the streets below like black beetles. “What the hell is he doing out there?”

“Maybe the same thing you were doing in Scotland,” Myles suggests. “Hiding.”

I shoot him a glare. Myles just raises an eyebrow, completely unfazed after fifteen years of friendship. His gaze flicks to the cut on my cheek. “How’s that healing up?”

“I regret telling you about that.”

“You deserved it.”

I pivot to face him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He meets my stare evenly. “Nova was right. You could have brought her.”

“She’s pregnant,” I growl. The words come out harsher than intended, as if saying them could erase the image of Nova’s tear-streaked face from my mind.

“Exactly.” Myles drops into one of my visitor chairs, propping his feet on my pristine desk because he knows it pisses me off. “Soon, she’ll be stuck at home with your kid. You should let her live a little before that happens.”

“If I thought it was safe⁠—”

“It is safe. I put enough security measures in place myself.” He cuts me off with a dismissive wave. “Don’t blame my team for you being overprotective.”

My fist clenches at my side. I’m not above punching him. “Am I the only one who sees the danger?”

“You’re the only one who sees it where it isn’t.” That infuriating smugness remains plastered across his face. “In almost everything else, I defer to your judgment. But when it comes to Nova…” He shrugs like the answer’s obvious. Maybe it fucking is. “Love makes people do crazy things. Like lock up the person they care about and throw away the key.”

“I’ve never used that word.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t feel it.”

The unease crawling under my skin has nothing to do with Myles making sense. I happen to know another man who kept his woman locked away. She turned to drugs and alcohol to control the demons inside because she couldn’t control the one outside. First chance she got, she ran.

I tell myself I’m nothing like my father. But maybe we’re just different shades of the same toxic fucking color.

“Do you think I’m like him?” The question slips out before I can stop it.

Myles’s head snaps toward me, surprised but not confused. He turns back to the rain-drenched windows with a weary sigh. “Come on, brother. Leonid is a brute all the time. You’re only a brute when you have to be.”

“He kept her locked away, too,” I mutter. The rain intensifies, drowning out the city noise below.

“He didn’t love your mother the way you love Nova,” Myles says quietly. “He isn’t capable of it.”

That word again. Love. It settles like a steel trap on my shoulders. Am I capable of it? Is that what this burning in my chest means? Is that truly in the cards for someone like me?

“I don’t think Nova would call this ‘love.’“

“Maybe you should tell her then. Might make her go easier on you.”

“I’ve already given her more than I thought possible,” I snap. “I’ve compromised more than I ever planned to. I’ve bent until I nearly broke. I’m not sure I have anything left to give.”

He eyes me sideways. “What if that’s not enough for her?”

The question I’ve been avoiding. Because I already know the answer.

It’s not enough. Nova wants all of me—even the parts I keep locked away in this office. The parts that attend meetings where men die and dirty deals are struck. She deserves the whole truth.

But that truth would destroy her.

With Katerina, everything had been simpler. Her demands were easier to meet: designer clothes, diamond tennis bracelets, luxury vacations where my presence was optional at best. Dangle something shiny and off she went, satisfied long enough for me to be both CEO and Bratva pakhan without giving her a second thought.

Of course, she was also fucking my brother behind my back.

So maybe things weren’t as simple as I remember.

Either way, everything’s become infinitely more complicated. I have so much more to lose.

“I need to end this soon,” I rasp, pulling out my phone to check for updates. “For my family’s sake.”

“Show your father the evidence against Ilya and be done with it,” Myles suggests, not for the first time. He’s been pushing me to pull that trigger for months.

I shake my head. “Leonid won’t believe it. Not now that he has footage of Nova walking into Andropov headquarters with that server⁠—”

“That proved to be fake!” Myles interjects.

“Doesn’t matter.” I press my palm against the cold glass, letting it ground me. “Leonid’s convinced himself that Nova didn’t know the server was false. He believes what she did was calculated, premeditated. He’ll never accept Ilya had anything to do with it.”

“So you’ve already spoken to him.”

“Multiple times.” The admission tastes bitter. “He wants her head on a spike.”

“I take it he doesn’t know she’s with you.”

“I don’t know what he thinks,” I say, watching a black car pull up to the curb below. “But he doesn’t have proof of her location. I intend to keep it that way until I have a solid plan.”

Myles exhales heavily. “That’s why you wouldn’t bring her to London.”

I nod. “The entire Bratva thinks she’s an Andropov spy thanks to Leonid and Ilya. The number of men still loyal to me shrinks by the day. Who can blame them? I already have one black mark courtesy of my cheating ex-wife. I can’t be seen with another woman whose loyalties are questioned.”

“Christ.” Myles runs both hands through his hair. “What about telling Leonid about the baby?”

A bitter laugh is my only response.

“Surely he wouldn’t order the death of a woman carrying his grandchild?”

The horror in Myles’s voice would be touching if it weren’t so naive.

“You severely underestimate my father’s capacity for cruelty.” I turn from the window, needing to move. “I won’t risk it. I have no idea how he’d react, and I refuse to gamble with her life.”

Myles nods, his jaw squaring. “Then I have one more suggestion. After that, I’ll shut my mouth.”

“I doubt that. But go ahead.”

“Tell Nova,” he says simply. “Tell her everything. Let her in.”

The vein in my forehead throbs at the mere idea. “This isn’t her burden to bear, Myles. She’s already got enough on her plate, with worrying about her grandmother and Hope and our baby. I won’t add to it.” I drop into my chair, spreading my hands on the mahogany desk. “I can be her punching bag. I can take her anger if it means keeping her safe from how high the stakes really are.”

“You’re a good man, Samuil.” Myles claps me on the back. His resignation is proof that I answered exactly the way he expected. “And I’m proud to be your second, your brother-in-arms.” He pauses at the door. “I just hope this decision doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass.”

“Yeah,” I whisper to myself long after he’s retreated out of my office and left me to resume my pastime of staring at the raindrops racing down the window glass. “That makes two of us.”

My phone lights up with another message. This time from Nova.

I’m sorry about the vase. And your face. Come home soon.

Three simple lines that make my chest constrict. This woman who throws pottery at my head one day and misses me the next. Who fights me tooth and nail about staying safe, then apologizes for caring too much. Who’s carrying my child and still doesn’t realize she already owns every piece of me worth having.

I type back: Nothing to apologize for, zaychik. I’ll be home soon. Just a few more days.