Page 125 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

“I mean, I’ve seen some of these guys around Wild Night Blossom. They always use the VIP rooms and when they come to play, the nightclub is closed to everyone else.”

Her words set my heartbeat to pounding. I move towards her urgently. “Have you spoken to any of them?”

She looks a little wary now, but she answers. “Just one. That dick over there.”

She points squarely at the center of my wall. I feel my breath shorten immediately.

“Hitoshi Sakamoto?” I ask. “Is that who you’re pointing to?”

“The Chinese dude?”

“He’s Japanese, and yes.”

“Then yeah, that’s who I’m pointing to.”

“Fuck,” I growl. “Khrenoten’.”

“What?” Charity asks. “Have I just helped you crack your case? Because if that’s true, I feel like I should be compensated for helping.” She gives me a sheepish grin.

I glare at her. “You can go now.”

Her eyes flit back to the wall. “How bad is he?” she asks carefully.

My eyes rove over her face, drinking in the fading bruises. “You tell me.”

She nods softly like that settles it. Then she turns to leave.

The fact that she’s had direct contact with Sakamoto gives me pause. It’s just too fucking convenient. Too many coincidences in a row. In my world, there’s no such thing as coincidences. There’s fate and there’s death. Nothing in between.

I walk out of my office, leaving it unlocked for now. I’ll improve the lock situation later. Right now, I’m more concerned with this new information.

I head straight to Matvei’s room. Dr. Roth prescribed bedrest as the quickest means of recovery. It’s only been a few days, but I know Matvei and I know for damn sure he isn’t keen on staying still for long.

When I open his door and walk in, relief flushes across his face. “Thank God. I’m bored out of my fucking mind in here.”

“You should be sleeping.”

“If I were, you wouldn’t be able to unload all your problems on me,” Matvei points out. “What the fuck has been happening?”

“Like you don’t know?”

“I hate getting reports. I’m usually the one doing the reporting.”

I smirk, sitting down by his bedside. “Should I have brought you a teddy bear or something? A bouquet of pretty flowers?”

He flips me off. “Ya sru na tvayu mat’,”he snaps.

“Balloons, then?”

“Asshole, tell me why you’re here.”

He’s desperate for news. Desperate to be anywhere other than this room. Desperate to do what he was born to do: crack skulls and make bad men bleed.

“I walked into my office just now. Charity was in there. She picked the lock.”

“Fuck me. She’s the brunette with the busted-in face?”

I nod. “And the attitude to match.”

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