Page 100 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

“I know that!” I snap, ready to tear my hair out with frustration. “But I didn’t ask for any of this, either, in case anyone forgot. I didn’t ask to be raped. I didn’t ask to meet Phoenix the same night I left behind everyone I’ve ever known.”

“No one asks for their life, Elyssa,” Matvei counsels. “We get what we’re given. And it’s up to us to make the most of it.”

I let that sink in for a moment. Wondering if I had made the most of what I’d been given. Somehow, it doesn’t feel that way.

“If Raj gives him information, do you think he’ll attack today?” I ask.

“He might attack today regardless.”

“But you disagree with that?”

“It’s been made abundantly clear that my opinion is irrelevant.”

“But it’s right.”

Matvei laughs hollowly. “Of course it is. Phoenix is just too mired down in the past to see that. Maybe you can get him to see things your way.”

“If he hasn’t listened to you, what makes you think he’ll listen to me?”

“He’s in love with you,” Matvei says simply.

The words coming out of his lips feel strange. And I’m immediately desperate to believe him, but terrified of falling into a trap I won’t be able to extricate myself from.

“Try and get some rest, Elyssa,” Matvei says. “You look tired.” Then he walks out of my room and shuts the door.

But the lock never clicks. It’d be easy to dismiss that as an accident, an oversight. But something tells me that it’s a little gift from Matvei. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

I fall back against my bed and stare up at the ceiling. It’s flawless, arching mahogany. But all I can see is my son’s face.

Looking down at me and crying in an endless, silent wail.

* * *

I’m not sure how much time passes before the door opens again. I quickly blot at the tears still drying on my cheeks and sit up, expecting Matvei.

Instead: “Phoenix?”

He’s changed clothes, no doubt because his previous outfit was too bloody to stay in. Now, he’s wearing a white t-shirt and dark trousers. He looks effortlessly breathtaking.

How can something so violent be so beautiful?

“What happened?” I ask. He hasn’t said anything since he entered. He’s so still, so silent, that I wonder if he’s real at all. If he’s a statue or a ghost or a figment of my imagination.

Then, finally, he speaks. “He’s still refusing to talk. Despite my… persuading.”

“Does that mean he’s still alive?”

“Of course he is,” Phoenix grumbles. “I won’t let him die until he’s given me what I want.”

“Does that mean you won’t attack until he does?”

The question is an invitation for yet another fight, but I can’t help it. My son’s life hangs in the balance. And where I have to fight, I will.

“I’ve considered it from all angles,” he says cautiously. “And it seems unwise to move before Raj tells me what he knows.”

Relief floods through me. Followed almost instantly by the dread of knowing that it means Theo will be in the hands of enemies for a little while longer. There’s no winning here. Either Phoenix impulsively sets off a war that might claim my son’s life, or we all sit around and wait for a miracle.

He walks forward as though he’s not sure if he should or not. With each step, Matvei’s words ring louder and louder in my ears.

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