Page 155 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

“Please, Phoenix, I’m begging you: don’t go in there.”

“Elyssa—”

“If you insist on sending me back or going in there on your own, I’m going to scream so loudly that it’ll ruin all your plans anyway.”

I blink as I process what she’s saying. For someone who looks like a shy wallflower and flinches every time I say “fuck,” she’s pretty goddamn stubborn right now.

Perhaps I’ve underestimated her. The girl’s got some guts.

“I can’t stop this, Elyssa,” I say to her. “These men, this organization—they’re the ones responsible for killing my wife. And my…”

I shake my head as the words die on my lips.

“I can’t rest until I’ve taken them down.”

“You could die trying.”

“I’m willing to.”

She looks at me with desperate eyes. “Let me come with you then.”

“That’s out of the question.”

“Don’t make me scream.”

“You’re seriously threatening me right now?”

She looks uncertain but then she nods, her chin jutting out stubbornly. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“Jesus.” I look around, contemplating my next move. “Come back to the car with me. We’ll figure something out.”

“I can be naïve,” she retorts. “But that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. If I walk back there with you, you’re going to lock me in there and leave me behind.”

Goddammit.“Fair enough. Why do you even want to come?”

She looks at me helplessly for a moment. “Because I want a chance to be useful.”

Well, fuck. What am I supposed to do with that?

“You can’t go in dressed like that,” I point out. “This is a gala. You need a gown.”

“Let’s go find me one then.”

I frown. “Where the fuck are we supposed to find you a gown at…” I trail off as a middle-aged couple walk past.

They’re clearly made of money, judging by the designer clothes they’re wearing. His tux is Gucci and the watch he’s wearing is set with black diamonds. Her dress is brilliant, too. A one-shouldered gown in a deep emerald green.

Two things cement my selection.

One, she looks to be the same size as Elyssa.

And two, despite their obvious wealth, she and her husband are clearly not important enough to warrant bodyguards.

Sitting fucking ducks.

“Come on,” I say, gripping Elyssa’s arm and towing her down the street behind the couple.

I turn on my earpiece again, and after a moment of static, I hear Matvei’s shallow breathing.

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