Inked Athena (Litvinov Bratva Book 2)

My victory becomes less satisfying the longer Myles’s list of conditions goes on.

“… less than five minutes. Don’t tell them where we are. Don’t tell them where you’ve been. Don’t tell them where Samuil is. Don’t⁠—”

“This would go faster if you told me what I can talk about,” I grumble.

I’ve been bouncing from foot to foot like an impatient child while he prattles on, waiting for him to wrap it up. I’m a few button pushes away from talking to Grams, and my chill disappeared right around the same time he agreed to this plan in the first place.

“Feelings and shit,” he concludes. “That’s what’s allowed. Isn’t that what women like to talk about anyway?”

“Don’t forget our periods. We love talking about our monthly cycles.” I roll my eyes and hold my hand out. “Give me the phone.”

He pulls it out of his pocket, but doesn’t hand it over. His eyes remain suspiciously narrowed. “There will be hell to pay if Samuil finds out about this, Nova.”

My heart kicks against my ribs at the mention of his name. Even now, after everything, the mere thought of him sends electricity dancing across my skin. I force myself to focus.

“You’re a good friend, Myles.” I soften my voice, letting a hint of suggestion creep in. “I’ll mention just how nice you are when I talk to Hope.”

With that, his eyebrows zoom upwards in the purest expression of giddy joy I’ve ever seen. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing at him. Joke’s on me, really—I’d probably already be talking to Grams if I’d led with that. Let that be a lesson for next time.

“Tell her the only thing nicer than my personality is how nice I look without a shirt on,” Myles adds with a cheeky grin.

“I’ll work that in between the feelings and period talk. It’ll go: sadness, your rippling abs, Hope’s period cramps, and then we’ll wrap up with a lengthy discussion of your stamina in bed.”

Finally—finally—he extends the phone. “Work in that I can bench two-fifty, and I’ll give you fifteen extra minutes.”

I snatch the phone before he can change his mind and blow him a kiss. “You’re a doll.”

“And a sucker,” he mutters as he gets up and wanders away into the nearby meadow.

The moment I have it, my hands start shaking. I know he’s listening—he’d be stupid not to—but I don’t care. All that matters is the number I’m punching in with trembling fingers, each digit bringing me closer to home.

The ring echoes in my ear like a funeral bell.

Then she answers, and I almost collapse to my knees in relief.

“Hello?”

“Grams!” I choke out, the single word a wobbly, shaky mess.

“Oh my God—Nova?”

“Shhh,” I whisper, glancing at Myles’s turned back. My pulse thunders in my ears as I lower my voice. “I’m not calling you. This never happened, okay?”

A beat of silence stretches between us before she catches on. “What never happened?”

That puts a smile on my face, though the tears remain stubbornly where they are. “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice, Grams. I’ve missed you.”

“And I’ve been worried sick.” The strain in her voice makes me fist the blanket harder. “Samuil has been giving me regular updates. He insists you’re safe, you’re doing well, but I don’t think I really believed him until just now when I heard your voice.”

Despite how angry I am with him right now, I can’t help but agree. “I am safe, and I am doing well.”

“Well, thank God for that.”

I stare out over the water as afternoon clouds roll in, trying to decide where to start. So much has happened—not that I can talk about most of it. So I settle on the thing I can talk about. The last thing I want to bring up.

“How are you, Grams? After everything… Are you okay?”

I’ve been wanting to talk to her about my dad and brothers since the second it happened, but I never actually planned what to say. I don’t even know how I feel about it, let alone how she might feel.

Her silence takes on a heavy edge. When I hear her sniffle, my arms ache to pull her into a hug. “I never thought I’d outlive my son. Certainly not Tommy and Mike.”

Funny, neither did I. Mostly because they each took their turns threatening me within an inch of a life. If anything, my reigning thought has always been that one of these days, they’ll kill me.

“It’s hard to make sense of any of it. I keep thinking I should feel… different about it. More something.” I watch raindrops dapple the flat mirror of the lake. “They were not good people. But it’s okay to be sad.”

They were worse than that. But the less Grams knows about what her son and grandsons did, the better off she is. Enough of us are tangled up in my father’s dirty dealings as it is. She’s too innocent to get dragged into the mud.

Let her think of them as angels. She deserves that much.

But that doesn’t keep me from being angry. I’m angry at them for existing at all and then for abandoning us in such a cruel fashion. I’m angry that it’s all such a fucking mess. That we can’t just mourn the loss of our family like normal people. That even this most basic human experience has to be uniquely complicated.

“Are you telling me or yourself, honey?” she asks softly.

I swipe at the tears leaking down my cheeks. “I don’t know. Both, I guess. I just… Ever since I found out, I haven’t known what to think. I don’t miss them. I won’t. I’ll never, for a single second, wish they were alive and I could call them up and tell them about my life.”

My throat closes around the words as memories flash through my mind—bruises hidden under long sleeves, nights spent crying into my pillow, the constant edge of fear. “But part of me wishes that I would. I think I’m mourning the fact that I can’t mourn them, if that even makes sense.”

She releases a shaky breath. “I wish you could’ve gone to the funeral with me. I think it would’ve helped you.”

“You went to their funerals?” I don’t know why, but I didn’t even think about a funeral. The mayor was probably there. I’m sure flags were draped over their coffins. Bullshit honors were probably bestowed on them for serving the city, and stone-faced men probably said too-kind things about them that they didn’t come close to earning.

I would’ve hated every second of that funeral.

“I did,” she admits. “Myles escorted me.”

That’s another surprising blow. “What? He didn’t— No one told me.”

That’s a trend around here, it seems. No one tells me anything.

“Myles said you were safe, but the way he talked about you, it almost sounded like you were sick. Are you… Nova, are you okay? Where are you?”

I think back through the rules Myles laid out, repeating them to myself twice before I decide this next topic isn’t off-limits.

“I wanted to tell you in person, but at this point, I don’t know when that will—” The words lodge in my throat, and I shove the thought away before I devolve into tears and ruin what is already a botched announcement. “I’m not sick, Grams. I’m pregnant.”

There’s one beat of silence for me to worry about what her response will be before she’s happy-shouting through the phone. “Are you serious? Sweetheart! How far along? Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you. I’m so— Are you nauseous? Have you been taking vitamins?”

I laugh and start answering as many of her questions as I can manage. “I’m almost two months, but everything is going well. The baby is healthy and happy, and I’m happy. I’m really happy.”

“Oh, my darling, I’m—” She hiccups again. “This is the best news you ever could have given me.”

“I wanted to tell you in person,” I whisper. “I had this whole plan. We were going to have breakfast at Moody’s, with apple pancakes…”

“Oh, honey.” Her voice wobbles. “We’ll do that. When all this is over, we’ll celebrate properly. Have you been craving anything yet?”

I laugh softly. “Everything and nothing. Yesterday, I cried because we didn’t have pickles. Then, when Louisa brought some, I couldn’t stand the smell.”

“That’s exactly how I was with your father.” She catches herself, the words hanging heavy between us. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have⁠—”

“No, it’s okay.” I swallow hard. “I want to hear about it. About the good memories, too. Even if they’re about him.”

“You’re going to be such a wonderful mother, Nova.” She sighs. “So much better than… well. My point is, you know what real love looks like. What it feels like to want to protect someone.”

Something in her tone shifts then, takes on an edge I’ve never heard before.

“But I need you to do something for me, sweetheart.”

“Okay?”

“Listen to Samuil,” she insists. “Listen to him and trust that he’s going to keep you safe.”

My jaw actually drops. Of all the things I thought Grams would say, that wasn’t it.

And she’s not done yet, either.

“Your father and brothers were in a mess with the wrong people and they were killed for it. Those people could come after you next. I need to know you are going to be safe, and Samuil can do that. He’s a good man.”

“Grams—” I jump up and start pacing along the water’s edge. “How can you be so sure about him? You barely know him.”

“I know enough.” Her voice hardens with conviction. “I know he checks on me every day. Makes sure I have everything I need. I know he cares.”

I stop in my tracks. “He does?”

“And when he talks about you…” She pauses, and I hold my breath. “Well, a mother knows these things. Even if I’m just a grandmother.” So promise me,” she continues with surprising intensity. “I want to hear you swear that you’ll do what’s best for yourself and my great-grandchild. Swear it.”

I close my eyes and picture him. It’s only the wind tousling my hair, but I could swear it’s Samuil’s fingers combing through. I know it’s only the storm booming, but I could swear it’s his voice. I know it’s only a drop of rain kissing my cheek, but I could swear it’s him.

He’s here. He’s not actually, but he is in all the ways that matter.

But is that enough? Is the ghost of Samuil as good as the real thing? Or, maybe even worse—is his presence worse than his ghost? Because even when it really is Samuil touching me, kissing me, whispering to me, he comes with so much more. Shadows trailing him, guns tucked in desk drawers, that cold steel of his voice when he switches languages and has conversations I can’t understand.

Can I trust that? Trust him?

Do I really have a choice?

In the end, I do all I can do. I sit down in the damp, dark sand and sigh. “Okay, Grams. I promise.”