Page 77 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

“Think of it as livingwithhim.”

“Charity…”

“What?” she asks defensively. “What other option do we have, Lys?”

“We can go back to the shelter.”

Charity scoffs. “No fucking thank you. The moment I could afford to leave that place, I did. No offense.”

“You have an apartment in town,” I remind her.

“I’m not going back there,” she says. “In case you’ve forgotten, someone is after me. The kind of someone who can keep dirty cops on the payroll.”

I bite my lip, trying to think of a way out for us. “We can get a new place. Something small…”

“With what money, Elyssa?” she demands. “I don’t exactly have savings. And it’s not like I can work with my face the way it is now.”

“I have my job at the shelter.”

“Which is hardly enough to buy a box of cereal, let alone pay rent in Las Vegas. That’s the whole reason you still live in that crappy place, remember?”

Defeated, I feel my mood deflate instantly. Charity realizes a second too late that she went a little far.

“I’m sorry, boo. That was uncalled for.”

I’m angry. And hurt. And terrified of the future. But rather than confront those emotions head on, I find myself cowering from them. “It’s okay,” I reply—even though it’s not.

Things are very far from okay.

“This is a good option for us right now, Elyssa,” Charity insists. “Phoenix can keep us safe.”

“What makes you think we can trust him?”

“He saved you that night, didn’t he?” she asks. “At least, that’s what you’ve always told me.”

“Yes, but… he’s different now.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know exactly. He just is. And you can’t assume he’s trustworthy based on what I told you about one chaotic night that was most definitely a mistake.”

“Okay, fine. We don’t have to trust him,” Charity concedes. “But we can use him, can’t we?”

I’m not remotely comfortably with that. But there’s a desperation on Charity’s face that I’m only just starting to catch up with.

“If we ask to stay, he’s going to want to know more about us. He won’t want two strange women living in his house without background checks, without interrogations. He’s paranoid.”

“Okay, so? What have we got to hide?”

I can feel the color drain from my face. Memories start to crop up in my head.

A black metal swan, stained with blood…

White curtains chewed up by flame…

The smell of patchouli in the desert night…

Charity’s eyes go wide. “Okay, whoa, you went somewhere just now. Listen, Lys…” She reaches out and clasps my hand between hers. “I’ve never pressed you on this. I wouldn’t ever. Goodness knows there’s things in my past I’m not proud of. But I’m only asking now for your own good: is there something in your past you don’t want him finding out about?”

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