Page 4 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

But I’ve murdered the heart of our community. The shepherd to our flock. I’ve handed my soul over to the devil. There’s nowhere else for me to go now.

So I go toward the lights.

I keep running, even when the heels of my feet start tearing and bleeding. I pant through the pain in my side and the pain in my heart. My eyes never leave the lights ahead.

And little by little, they get brighter. More blinding. The Sanctuary disappears into the vast blackness behind me.

But it doesn’t seem to matter how much distance I put between myself and my family, myself and my community, myself and the only home I’ve ever known.

No matter how far or how fast I run…

I can still smell the lingering hints of patchouli following me through the shadowy desert.

Phoenix

Las Vegas, Nevada

Wild Night Blossom.A haven for the depraved.A hellhole of debauchery.

On the surface, it’s all class. But that’s a cold-blooded lie.

I know better.

So does the man I’ve come here to meet.

It’s a meeting that’s been three years in the making.Mymaking. And tonight, all this shit finally comes to an end.

I circle the room I’ve just been shown into. The walls are black, but you can barely tell, thanks to the dozens of framed, mismatched mirrors hung at every height. Some are small and square with thin iron frames. Others are massive splays of rectangular glass with thick, gilded edges.

Five uniform chandeliers hang from the high ceiling. Made of crystal and flickering with candlelight, they’re barely bright enough to beat back the shadows crowding in every corner.

There are no windows, of course. Not one. Privacy is of utmost importance to a man like Viktor Ozol.

The master of this whole circus of sin. The motherfucker who has plagued my peace of mind for three years.

Ever since Aurora…

Ever since Yuri…

I’m pacing hard, but the sounds of my footsteps are swallowed whole by the burgundy carpet. The music pulsing beyond these walls is felt more than it’s heard. The whole point of this room is to shut out the unsavory nature of what this club was built for: sex in all its forms.

I’d come to the club alone, as per the agreement between Ozol and myself. And as expected, it was a fucking orgy of flesh from the second I stepped foot in the door. In every booth, beneath every table, on every possible surface, there were people fucking. Groans and moans filled the air.

They say the sex is an expression of freedom.Strip yourself of inhibition,reads the ornate sign over the door. They think it’s a cute little double entendre.

Sex is power. Sex is confidence.

What a fucking farce.

I’d surveyed the faces of the men and women in each booth I’d passed. Some hid their pain behind robotic moans. Others made a show of enjoyment, despite their vacant expressions.

They were all young.

They were all beautiful.

They were all breathing fucking corpses.

My hand twitches automatically towards the waistband of my pants, but I remember I don’t have my gun anymore. My weapons were confiscated at the door.

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