Page 163 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

The blinding shine of a sharp edge as it slashes his neck.

Sakamoto’s eyes go wide as a spurt of blood soaks the edge of his collar. His hands loosen around my neck.

Not the loosening of defeat—but the loosening of death.

He falls back against the marble. By the time I sit up, he’s already dead.

I turn to the side and stare up at the person who stabbed him.

She’s standing there in her emerald dress, clutching the brooch pin in her bloodied hand. She’s trembling like a leaf.

But when Elyssa’s gaze meets mine, her expression is iron and steel.

33

Elyssa

That’s two now.

Two men I’ve killed.

Two lives I’ve ended.

Two crippling pangs of guilt that I have to carry around for the rest of my life.

How has it even come to this? I was supposed to get married, have children, keep a house, and take care of my family. That was always how it was supposed to be.

And yet, here I sit, staring down at my bloodstained fingers…

Again.

A sickening sense of déjà vu wraps its ghostly hands around my throat and squeezes. I cough instinctively.

Phoenix’s eyes snap to mine. “You okay?”

Am I okay?What a question. I have no idea.I should be feeling… something, right?

But all I can feel are the iron shackles of the life I’d thought I’d thrown off a year ago. I can feel it catching up to me. And with every passing second, it gets harder and harder to breathe.

How is it possible that this has happened again?

The first time, I could claim it was an accident. A horrible misunderstanding.

But this time? This time, I knew what I was doing.

When I managed to break out of the bathroom stall by kicking as hard as I could until the door gave way, I stumbled out, saw the brooch lying on the bathroom counter, grabbed it, and left.

I don’t know if it was fate or sheer dumb luck that I emerged into the ballroom just in time to see Phoenix slipping out. And I don’t know if it was bravery or stupidity that made me follow him through the beautiful jade green door.

But I do that when I emerged from the shadows onto the veranda and saw the other man strangling the life from Phoenix’s throat, it felt like the simplest decision in the world.

I had the brooch in my hand. And I didn’t hesitate.

Why not? Wouldn’t another person—a moral, sane, normal person—have hesitated before taking a life?

What have I become?

The better question: have I become likehim?

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