Inked Athena (Litvinov Bratva Book 2)

“This secure line won’t last forever,” Hope’s voice crackles through my phone. “Give me something juicy before Myles cuts us off again.”

I trace a finger through the condensation on the glass. “Fifteen extra minutes today.”

“What did that cost you?”

“My soul. Or yours. I didn’t read the fine print.”

Hope’s laugh comes through staticky but genuine. “You pimping me out to your jailkeeper?”

“More like listening to an hour-long speech about his many dateable attributes.” I push away from the window, bare feet silent on thick Persian carpets as I wander through the library stacks. “Did you know Myles can crack walnuts with his⁠—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Another laugh, but it fades quickly. “How are you really doing, Nova?”

Good question. Last night’s intimacy feels like a dream now. Sam spent hours whispering promises against my skin, sharing fears about fatherhood and his determination to be better than Leonid.

But morning brought reality crashing back—more meetings, more secrets, more walls between us. The tenderness in his eyes when he touched my growing belly has been replaced by that familiar arctic steel.

Sometimes, I think the only version of him I get to keep is the one that exists in darkness, when his guard drops and his masks slip away. Daylight steals him from me, no matter how hard I try to cling on.

“I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“I am, really,” I insist. “I have Samuil back.” I leave out that having him here but unreachable might be worse than when he was gone. At least then I could blame the distance.

“Do you wanna talk about it, babe?”

The lump in my throat feels like I swallowed one of Finbarr’s tennis balls. “No. I want to talk about you. Let me live vicariously through whatever is going on in your life.”

“Would you like to experience misery and woe?” she offers with false chipperness. Paper crinkles—probably her stress-eating another candy bar. “‘Cause that’s all I’ve got.”

I’ve spent so many weeks missing Hope that I almost forgot she’s dealing with her own drama back home. Matter of fact, I almost forgot there is a “home” outside of this property. The thought of Chicago—Lakefront Trail, honking cabs, the L rumbling overhead and the smell of deep-dish pizza wafting from every other storefront—seems like another lifetime.

I wince as I tuck my cold toes up under me. “Are the trolls still harassing you?”

“Like it’s their fucking job.” The defeat in her voice makes my hands clench. “Every time I make a new post or a client leaves a good review, it’s immediately bitch-slapped with a dozen nasty comments.”

“Has Jerry been able to do anything?” I ask as I once again go back to pacing. Nothing lasts these days—I pace, I sit, I sleep, I don’t sleep.

Nothing feels comfortable. Nothing feels right.

“Jerry’s a freelance IT guy, not a miracle worker,” says Hope. “The most he’s been able to do is shut down the comments and review section of our website.”

If I had regular access to the internet, I’d take up my sword as keyboard warrior and defend her. It would feel good to be useful. Here, I’m raising puppies and looking after sheep from time to time, watching the seasons change through leaded glass windows—but no one truly needs me. If I suddenly vanished, someone else would fill my role without blinking.

But no one else can be Hope’s best friend.

“Is it Katerina?” I guess.

“Who else? But her house is dark. Word is she left Chicago, but her vindictive ass clearly found WiFi wherever she landed.”

A gust of wind rattles the windowpanes, making me jump. Outside, dark clouds gather over the loch, promising another storm.

I shoot to my feet, struck by sudden inspiration. “WiFi!”

Hope chuckles. “I see you’re familiar with the concept.”

“No, I’m saying WiFi, Hope. WiFi! What if that’s exactly what we need?”

“Your crazy idea voice makes me nervous, NoNo.”

I stride over the cold stone floor from the door to the window and back again, adrenaline thrumming through my veins. Lightning flashes like the world wants to match my energy. “Remember that client you had… What was it, like, a year ago? The one who was starting a cosmetics company?”

“Sure,” says Hope, “I remember her. I also remember the rash all of her sample products gave me. My skin looked like I’d tried to exfoliate with poison ivy.”

“You never should’ve accepted tips in the form of untested products,” I tease. “But she was looking for women to endorse her brand, right? Models, actresses, popular influencers?”

“Count me out. My skin is traumatized.”

“I’m not talking about you, dummy.”

I wait, letting it sink in. Hope sucks in her breath. “I see where you’re going with this, Nova, but⁠—”

“Improv rules,” I interrupt, spinning away from the window. The motion makes my thick sweater—one of Samuil’s I’d stolen from his closet—swirl around my thighs. “I want to hear ‘Yes, Nova. Good idea, Nova. And…’”

“And how are we gonna use that to get to Katerina?”

“We create a fake beauty brand and say we’re looking for ambassadors. Stroke her ego. Get her to respond.” My reflection grins back at me from the fireplace mirror, feral and bright-eyed. “She knows how to hide from Samuil’s men. But she won’t be able to resist being told how gorgeous and influential she is.”

Hope sighs, the sound coming out somewhere between a groan and laugh. “Your plan is to lure her in with… makeup? That is the most basic bitch bait I’ve ever heard of.”

“Picture it—she gets a letter from an up-and-coming cosmetics agency.” I put on a fake and incredibly cringy French accent. “‘Dear Miss Alekseeva, we would be delighted and greatly honored if you would consider being the spokesperson and face of our cosmetics brand. Your natural beauty, charisma, and charm are exactly what we need to push our company into the world of beauty.’”

Hope guffaws, her laugh echoing through the phone’s speaker. “No one would say that after spending a single minute with her.”

“That’s exactly the point.” I shiver in a sudden draft as cold wind batters the castle. “We’ll hit her where it counts: her ego.”

Hope still sounds skeptical as she taps her nails against her desk. “Do you really think a woman who left Chicago in order to protect herself from the men hunting her is going to be interested in being the face of a cosmetics brand?”

“No, probably not,” I confess. “But I’m hoping her ego will compel her to, at the very least, reply to our email. Maybe then we can track the IP address.”

Hope whistles. “I have to admit, you’re a little scary, Nova. Like a creepy mastermind.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Even better: it’s a yes, and,” she says. “As in, yes, I’ll do it, and you have to create the fake email account. I get enough spam in my normal inbox as it is.”

Smiling widely, I turn back to the room just as the sun breaks through the clouds, sending rays of light dancing across the polished floor. The timing feels like an omen. The rain softens to a gentle patter, and somewhere in the distance, a rainbow arches over the hills.

“A little spam will be worth it to catch the bitch.”

An hour later, Myles is still a no-show, which means I’m still on the phone with Hope. We’ve spent the last forty minutes cackling about our email to Katerina.

“I hope she reads this again one day—if they allow email in hell, that is—and realizes how many times you actually insulted her,” Hope snorts. “Like, this line: ‘You’re as brilliant as you are beautiful, which makes you the perfect candidate for our campaign.’ God, it’s truly inspired.”

“Why, thank you. You’re too kind.” I bow despite the fact that Hope can’t actually see me. “Do you think she’ll reply?”

“Honestly, I don’t even care. It was a fun afternoon. I miss doing stupid shit with you.”

“But what if it’s not just stupid shit? What if this works?” I sit on the couch, hugging a pillow to my chest. “What if she actually responds?”

“Then Jerry traces the IP address and we hand it over to your baby daddy’s team of super-spies.” Hope pauses. “Speaking of which, how are we going to explain this if it does work?”

My stomach clenches. “We’re not. Samuil can’t know.”

“Nova…”

“He’d lock me in this tower and throw away the key if he knew I was trying to track down Katerina.”

“Maybe he should.” Hope’s voice turns serious. “This isn’t some mean girl from high school we’re dealing with. She’s actually dangerous.”

“So am I.” The words come out fiercer than I intended. “I’m tired of being helpless. Of watching the people I love get hurt while I sit here playing princess in a castle.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“I’m not made of glass.”

Hope sighs. “No, you’re made of pure stubborn spite. Just… promise me you’ll be careful? I need my best friend in one piece.”

I’m about to respond when, suddenly, a message notification pops up on my laptop screen. My heart stops.

“Holy shit,” I breathe.

“What? What is it?”

“She replied.”