Page 99 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

“Murray?” Matvei coughs.

“Dead,” Phoenix answers with a deadened expression.

“You shot to kill?”

“Not exactly,” he says grimly. “He slit his own fucking throat.”

It’s amazing that they can have a calm conversation in the midst of all this. But neither one seems all that fazed. Now that I think about it, they’ve probably been in similar situations before.

“Okay,” I say. “I think the bleeding has stopped. I’m gonna have to clean the wound now.”

“Or we can wait for Dr. Roth.”

“The longer we wait, the higher the chance of infection,” I tell Phoenix. “But it’s your call.”

He regards me calmly for a moment and then nods. “Go ahead. Do what you have to.”

Taking encouragement from his words, I slowly pull away the cloth to make sure the bleeding has stopped. “This might hurt,” I say to prepare him.

He scoffs. “I’ve been through worse.”

I work slowly, taking care to wash well to reduce the chance of later infections. Thankfully, the wound is not overly dirty despite the dirt on the floor and splatters of blood from the dead detective sullying the room.

After a few minutes, I glance at the water to see it swirling red. “I need it changed,” I say without addressing Phoenix directly.

Again, he does exactly as I ask without complaint. When I turn back to Matvei, I notice a small smile on his lips.

“What are you grinning at?” I ask self-consciously.

“Nothing, just… very few people get to boss him around,” he says. “It’s like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs.”

I stifle a laugh just as Phoenix walks back into the dark cell with fresh water. He stands back and watches as I rinse out the cloth and continue applying pressure.

“You’ve been doing the same shit for a while now,” Phoenix points out impatiently.

Something tells me that he’s just looking for a reason to find fault with me. I don’t spare him a glance. “Do you want it to get infected?”

He eyes his best friend. “He’s probably done something to deserve it.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” laughs Matvei, although the laugh quickly curdles into a groan of pain.

“Your doctor’s taking a long time,” I cut in.

Matvei doesn’t say much, but I notice his eyes move back and forth between Phoenix and me. There’s something they aren’t telling me. Once I’ve finished cleaning the wound, I apply some of the antiseptic cream Phoenix brought and then bandage him up.

Finished, I look down at my work objectively. “All done,” I say, feeling satisfied.

I get to my feet shakily. One leg is so numb with pins and needles that I lose balance and stumble back into a wall. Or rather, into Phoenix.

His hands land on my waist for a moment. That tiny touch, as meaningless as it is, unearths a memory. So visceral, so tangible, that I’m transported back to that night.

The moment he placed me on that bathroom counter…

The seconds leading up to when he had parted my legs and…

“Dr. Roth.”

I snap out of the memory and turn to see a man walking towards the room. He definitely doesn’t look like a doctor. More like a retired wrestler. I move back, suddenly intimidated that he’s going to be examining my work.

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