Page 142 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

“The bullet?” Him getting shot at is just a guess, but I have a feeling I’m right.

“It only grazed me,” he replies stiffly.

I fall into silence as I clean the wound. His flesh has parted slightly where the bullet kissed his skin.

“I’ll need to give you a few stitches,” I tell him. “Unless you’d rather wait for your doctor.”

“Just get it done,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“This might hurt a little.”

He looks at me with clear insult in his eyes. “I assure you I’ve had worse.”

Sighing, I give him four stitches quickly, then pull back to look at my work. The stitches are clean and neatly constructed. I’m satisfied. Phoenix hasn’t made a single peep.

“There,” I say proudly. “You’re good to go.”

He only grunts in acknowledgement. I can tell he’s pissed. He’s trying to claw himself out of the web he’s found himself in. Either that or he’s busy trying to weave a web to catch someone else.

“Phoenix.”

His eyes focus on me, and this time, I can tell he’s really looking at me. “Yeah?”

“What happened?”

“It’s a long fucking story.”

“What else do I have to do?” I ask. “To get you to talk to me.”

I expect him to dismiss me like he did a moment ago but instead, he looks at me contemplatively. His dark eyes are filled with conflict. I wonder how much of that conflict has to do with me.

“My father-in-law was abducted from his psychiatric facility today,” he says without inflection.

I freeze for a moment, stumbling over the phrase “father-in-law.”

“Your… father-in-law?” My heartrate is rising again.

“Yes.”

“You… you’re married?”

Why had he never mentioned it before? Why had no one in this house mentioned it before? And also… where is she?

“I was,” Phoenix replies.

“You’re divorced.”

“Not quite.”

It takes me a long time to put the pieces together. But when they finally fall into place, I get it:she’s dead.

I feel instantly horrible for asking. His expression is impassive, though. He looks detached from the conversation, but I think I’m beginning to understand him a little better now. It makes so much sense.

The cool façade is just that—a façade. A false construct to mask the raw edge of his pain. Hiding a loss that clearly has something to do with the organization he’s hell bent on destroying.

I understand more now than I have since I first set foot in this house.

And what I understand terrifies me.

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