Page 218 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

I hold my remaining cash in my hand. It’s such a thin stack. I’m confident I can make it last for a few weeks at least.

I’m far less confident about everything else, though.

I sink into the back seat with Theo and prepare a quick bottle of formula for him. While he eats, I gaze up at the night sky. The floodlights wash out any trace of stars, so it’s just a big sheet of blackness.

I remember how bright the constellations were when I lived on the Sanctuary. How close the whole sky felt. As if you could reach out and run your fingers through the stars like glitter.

Nothing about those days feels real now. Like my whole world has been lit up with harsh neon, and all the things I once thought were beautiful have been exposed as used, rusted trash.

* * *

Half an hour later, I’m piloting the car through Las Vegas. I stopped by a store and bought the cheapest car seat I could find for Theo. That plus the milk put him to sleep, thank goodness.

But I’m wired. The lights and sounds of the city don’t help. It’s all surreal and glaring and overwhelming. I feel the same way I felt the first night I arrived here.

I didn’t think I could survive in a place like this. How can I now… without Charity?

The thought of her name threatens to destroy the dam I’ve been using to pen back my emotions.

“No,” I whisper. I can feel it cracking. Threatening to give way. “Please… not now.”

But I lose my vision behind a veil of tears, and I know I need to find somewhere to stop.

I keep it together long enough to leave the city behind and pull off onto the shoulder of a dark highway. Then, falling out of the car, I drop to my knees and start to sob.

It’s a fresh wave of pain that feels so damn raw that I wonder for a moment if I’m going to survive it or if it’ll swallow me whole.

Charity was my hero. My best friend. My mentor. The sister I never had.

She had taught me that it was okay to feel what you were feeling. To rage when you were angry, to laugh when you were happy, to cry when you were sad.

“To fuck when you were horny,” I say out loud, looking up at the sparse stars above me.

Who knew that you could laugh at the same time you cried or that both of those things would hurt so badly?

“I’ll make sure Theo knows about you, Charity,” I whisper up to the dark sky above. “I’ll make sure he knows about his beautiful, brave, fearless aunt. I’m sorry, my friend. I’m so sorry. You deserved a better ending. A happy ending. I’ll miss you. I love you.”

I take a deep breath and let the words settle. A few cars zoom by. I don’t feel any better, though.

Because I can’t feel Charity with me.

People always say that when their loved ones die:I know they’re with me, watching over me. I can feel them.

But even if that’s true for some people, it’s not for me. Charity’s gone. She’s gone somewhere she can’t hear me.

The words I speak are for me and me alone.

I turn back to the car and get into the backseat, next to Theo. He’s still sleeping soundly.

I kiss his upturned cheek, drinking in his pure scent, thanking God for the fact that he’s safe and alive and with me now. Then I put the overhead light on and pick up the duffel bag that Charity packed.

I root around inside to see what’s inside. The money. Theo’s formula, his clothes, one lone stuffed toy. Some of her clothes, some of mine.

I root around a little more and realize there’s a hard object hidden in the side compartment of the duffel. I open the zip and squeeze my hand inside to find…

A gun.

I have to stifle my scream so I don’t wake Theo. Dropping the gun back on top of the pile of folded clothes, I breathe and compose myself.

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