Page 75 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

For some reason, the thought of Elyssa finding out about Aurora—well, it’s more than I can handle now.

“He told me to run,” she says. “He told me I wasn’t safe here. I think I deserve to know who he is and why he said that to me.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “In case you forgot, this is my house,” I say. “I don’t owe you a fucking thing.”

Her eyes cloud over. I know instantly I’ve done it again: said the wrong thing. Hurt her.

But because apologies have never come easy to me, I stand my ground and dig my heels in.

Since Aurora and Yuri, being an asshole is so much easier.

“Now go back to your room,” I tell her.

She stares at me as though she’s trying to figure me out. For her sake, I hope she fails miserably.

The cost of knowing me is too great. Ask anyone.

Actually, just asking Vitya would be enough.

Instead of turning around and walking up the stairs like I expect, she takes another step down. She’s almost at the bottom of the stairs now, which puts her at eye level with me.

She drinks me in with her doe eyes. The same eyes she had used to reel me in that night a year ago. Those fucking liquid honey Bambi eyes that shimmered with an innocence I hadn’t seen in a long fucking time.

They’re less naïve now. But not by much. Still inexperienced. Still uncertain. Still terrified of the world.

“What?” I ask when she doesn’t say anything.

Tension pings off my body like sparks. I wonder if she’s aware of that. I wonder if it’s happening because of her.

“Nothing,” she says, shaking her head. “I was just thinking… No, nothing. Never mind.”

She doesn’t offer up anything further. And before I can ask, she turns and walks back up the stairs. Her shadow disappears moments after she does.

“Fuck,” I growl to myself, feeling her presence long after she’s gone. “Fuck.”

17

Elyssa

How can a man be two things at the same time?

I know for certain that Phoenix is more than the cold, brusque don he tries to portray. Because I’ve also seen kindness and patience in him. I saw it in him the night we first met. In the way he protected me at the risk of his own life. The way he put himself between me and violent men.

Most of all, I saw it in the way he had held me after we made… well, after.

But he’s different now. Not because he’s changed—but because he’s trying to keep me at a distance.

Maybe because putting a barrier up between us is the easiest way he can think of to let me know what he thinks of our night together.

A cosmic fluke.

A cry for help.

A mistake.

I wish I could see it the same way. But when I think of the sweet, button-nosed baby that blossomed in my belly for nine months, I can’t. Something tells me that, even without that little angel, I might still hold the same opinion.

Because that night? It saved me. In more ways than I can even begin to count.

---