Page 21 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

“Elyssa, honey, I don’t know how to break this to you... But Weston’s has connections to the mob. The Russian Bratva, to be more specific. They’re dangerous guys. I’m not sure that’s the best place for you right now.”

I tense, but I can’t say I’m all that surprised. He may have been my protector tonight. But I’d sensed he was dangerous from the beginning. And I didn’t need to see what he could do with a gun to confirm that, either.

“He helped me tonight, though,” I stammer, feeling foolish.

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have ulterior motives,” Charity says gently. “The men that frequent Wild Night Blossom… they’re not good men, Elyssa.”

“I don’t think he wanted to be there.” I don’t know why I’m defending him, even in the absence of a real reason to do so. Just something in his eyes, I suppose.

“I’m sure that’s what he told you to get you to meet him at Weston’s.”

I look down as the sinking feeling in my chest grows. There’s so much I don’t understand about what’s happened to me tonight. The world I thought I knew seems utterly broken.

Charity moves forward and sits down next to me. “Elyssa, you’re clearly a nice girl, but you’re also clearly not from around here. So let me be the first to say this: you can’t just trust people blindly. Especially men. This can be a dangerous city for a young, inexperienced girl who’s on her own. Don’t let anyone take advantage of you.”

I want to tell her that my protector was different. But I know how it would make me sound. Like some naïve little hick who believes in fairy tales.

Which, to be fair, is probably exactly what I am.

“It’s clear you have a past,” Charity says, her flickering towards the bloodied, discarded wedding dress in the corner. “But that past doesn’t have to determine your future. Forget it. Bury it. Leave it in the past. No one has to know where you came from. The only thing that matters is where you plan on going. What I’m saying is, keep your secrets to yourself so that no one can use them against you. Understand?”

As I look into her strong, confident eyes, I realize that I do understand. I’d sort of made the decision already when I set the fire and ran. But that was all done in a haze of confusion, fear, and whatever drugs were pumping through my system.

This is me making the decision consciously, in full control of my wits.

Forget everything that happened before this moment and start fresh.

I think about my dark-eyed protector for a moment, regret curdling in my belly.

Then I breathe out and let him go.

I choose myself.

6

Phoenix

I don’t park in front of the diner. It’s common knowledge that Weston’s is tied to the Bratva. Nothing definitive, of course. But rumors carry weight. Especially if you repeat them often enough.

I grab the extra jacket I keep in the back of the Wrangler and walk down Las Vegas Boulevard towards the unassuming little diner.

I’m not exactly sure what I’m feeling as I walk to meet her. Weariness? Uncertainty? Annoyance?

Why the fuck have I gone and made her my problem? It’s not as though I don’t have enough shit on my plate. The sting of tonight’s failure pierces through the fog of my thoughts. Maybe that’s the real reason I’m heading towards the diner right now: it’s the only distraction I have.

Because after three fucking years, I’d finally managed to hook a meeting with the man I’ve spent all this time trying to kill. The mastermind behind Astra Tyrannis.

Only to let him slip through my fingers.

And for what?

Some runaway bride who flinched every time I swore.

I might have assumed she was working for Ozol. But watching his expression when he’d first laid eyes on her had disabused me of that theory. Her presence in the club had been a fluke. A big “fuck you” from the universe.

My phone rings, but I ignore it. I already know who it is. I don’t need to look at the screen and I sure as fuck don’t feel like talking to them.

I switch my phone on silent and keep going until I get to Weston’s. Considering the time, there’s only a couple of young guys sitting slumped in one of the booths, nursing large mugs of coffee. Probably trying to stave off the hangover they’re likely going to face tomorrow.

---