Page 226 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

“You remember what happened. Tell me… fuckingTELL ME!”

I put my hands up to cover my face as the echo of his bellow bounces around the office. Is the foundation of the house shaking? Or is that just me?

“You will tell me; do you understand? You’re mine. You’re mine!”

You’re mine…The words reverberate faintly in my ears. I can feel something threatening to unleash inside of me.

And just like that, my memory cracks wide open. I fall into it like sliding beneath the surface of a dark, frozen lake…

* * *

The Sanctuary—One Year Ago

“Mama?” I ask nervously, biting my lip.

“Hush now,” Mama says. “Don’t ask questions.” She fiddles with the lace trim on the wedding dress I’m wearing.

“Mama, I’m scared.”

My mother fixes me with a hard stare. “Scared? Why should you be scared? This is Father Josiah. Our shepherd. He’s going to be your husband. I thought you were excited. It is an honor, Elyssa.”

“I know,” I say. “I am. It is. I just… don’t feel right.”

I can tell she’s uncomfortable. She’s fidgeting a lot, and she’s not paying attention to my hair when she fastens the veil on my crown.

“Ouch!”

“I told you to hush,” she snaps. “I can’t concentrate when you keep talking.”

I stop asking questions.

Mama finishes prepping me. There’s a knock on the door. It swings open, reveals Papa standing there.

“Is she ready?” he asks, as if I’m not even there.

“Yes,” Mama says.

“Then let’s go.” Papa grabs me by the upper arm and steers me out of the room, out of the house. We step out into the night.

Our footsteps whisper through the desert sand. It’s quiet. No one, not even insects, making noise.

It’s a short walk. Everything is close here. The house I’ve seen a thousand times but never entered looms above. It looks bigger than I remember.

“Come on, girl,” Papa tells me gruffly as we near it.

I’m glad I have this veil on. It feels like a mask. Something to keep me safe from the future I’m tumbling into.

The door opens before we can knock. Standing on the threshold is Father Josiah, looking at me with an approving glint in his eye.

“Ah, Elyssa,” he says with a small nod. “You are right on time. We have much to do.”

“Of course, Father Josiah,” I murmur. “I am your servant.”

Those are the words I’m supposed to say. But I keep my eyes down as I mumble them. This all feels so wrong, so out of place.

“Thank you for bringing her, Solomon,” Josiah says. “You may go.”

Papa nods and shuffles away. He doesn’t look back at me even once.

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