Inked Athena (Litvinov Bratva Book 2)
Inked Athena: Chapter 39

“That’s not the man I love.”

I keep saying that to myself again and again. I’m still shaking from Sam’s transformation. One moment, he was my Samuil—the man who held my hand during our ultrasound, who kissed away my morning sickness, who’s learning to let others into his carefully guarded world.

The next? A stranger with glacial eyes barking orders in Russian while his men scattered like roaches. This is my world, and you need to stay the hell out of it.

The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the castle grounds as I trudge down the lane. Rufus and Ruby flank me like bodyguards. My hands rest on my swollen belly, protecting our child from the darkness that’s crept back into our lives.

“What do you think, guys?” I scratch behind Rufus’s ears. “Think Daddy will⁠—”

My foot catches on something solid and I stumble forward. Ruby’s quick reaction is the only thing that saves me from face-planting.

“Thanks, girl.” I steady myself on her broad back and peer at the obstacle.

The shape sprawled across the path isn’t a fallen branch or wandering sheep.

It’s a man.

A badly injured man. Blood mats his hair and stains his torn jacket.

Rufus’s hackles rise. A low growl rumbles in his chest.

“Hello?” I squeak. “Sir, are you hurt?”

His eyelids flutter. Chapped lips part. “Need… Litvinov.” The words rasp out in an American accent—weird, given that we’re deep in the middle of rural Scotland. “Only… him.”

My heart thumps against my ribs. This is exactly the kind of situation Sam warned me about—strangers who might be friends or foes. The smart thing to do would be turn and run. But I can’t leave an injured man lying here, bleeding into Scottish soil.

I reach for my phone, then remember it’s still in the war room where Sam’s holding court.

Shit.

I glance back down. His face is a mess of cuts and welts, one eye swollen completely shut. Someone worked him over good. The kind of beating meant to send a message.

I scan the perimeter, looking for signs of how he got here. The castle grounds are surrounded by state-of-the-art security. Guards patrol the gates 24/7. Sam’s paranoia means every inch is monitored by cameras.

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.”

The way he says it—like I’m some naive child who needs scolding—makes my blood boil. But the iron in his eyes stops my retort cold.

He and Mr. Morris carefully lift the stranger into the ATV’s cargo bed. The unconscious man flops like a rag doll, head lolling against the metal rim.

“He said no clinics.” I wrap my arms around my belly, the baby kicking as if sensing the tension. “He was adamant about only talking to you.”

“Of course he was.”

“You know him?” I step closer, but Sam’s sharp look pins me in place.

“Yes.” He wipes his muddy, bloody hand on his slacks. “We need to get him to the castle immediately. Mr. Morris⁠—”

“Already messaging the doctor, sir.”

“Good.” Sam’s shoulders bunch with tension as he scans the darkening lane. “I need to check the perimeter, see how he got here. Nova—” He turns to me, expression softening fractionally. “Go back with Mr. Morris. Find Myles. Stay with him until I return.”

“But—”

“No arguments.” His thumb brushes my cheek, the gesture at odds with his commanding tone. “And don’t call the police. Under any circumstances.”

Thunder cracks overhead as Sam strides off into the gathering gloom, leaving me with more questions than answers. The stranger moans from the cargo bed, muttering something I can’t decipher.

Mr. Morris guns the ATV’s engine. “Coming, Mrs. Nova?”

I climb on behind him, my engagement ring catching the last rays of sunlight. The gold band feels heavier than usual, weighted with the mud of the trail, the blood of a stranger, and secrets I’m not sure I want to know.

Mr. Morris guns the engine and we shoot off down the path toward the castle. I take one last look over my shoulder as we go. Samuil is a shadow amongst shadows.

Then the darkness swallows the last of him.