Page 103 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

Phoenix

Why is it that every time I’m with her, I transform into someone I barely recognize?

Actually, that’s not quite it. Not quite the problem.

The real problem is that I’m starting to recognize that part of myself a little too well.

I want desperately to maintain some sense of calm and composure. But then she goes and challenges me without realizing what’s at stake.

Her life.

Her son’s life.

Ourson’s life.

I feel the walls closing in. My breath gets short like someone’s trying to choke me from the inside and the edges of my vision blur and blacken. My feet carry me out of the room before that can happen. I’m barely aware of it. I just stare blankly at the ground as I put one foot in front of the other.

It’s only when I hear the crunch of sand under my soles that I realize I’ve ended up back on the beach. In the periphery of my vision, I see the ghost of a small boy building sandcastles by the shore.

It’s not real. He’s not there. But my God, I could swear he is.

He would have been five years old now. Would have come up to my knees, at least. Might his hair color have changed? Or his eyes? Aurora always claimed they’d get darker with time.

Memories and failures hit me like a thousand arrows, each one a physical prick of pain in my abdomen. Everything I’ve lost weighs on my shoulders. The gravity of trauma. Unyielding and cruel.

I find myself reaching for my cell and dialing in a number I haven’t called in months now. He answers almost immediately.

“Hello, son.”

Artem Kovalyov’s voice is the voice of a don if ever I heard one.

“Father,” I murmur respectfully as I stare out into the gray horizon.

“What an honor to hear from my boy,” he says sarcastically. “Usually, I only get to speak to you when you call your mother.”

I can’t help smirking. “Making me feel guilty already. That’s a new record.”

“You can forgive an old man for missing his son.”

His words catch me by surprise. He’s never been one for sentimentality. Especially not with me. The older I’ve gotten, the more we’ve both receded into ourselves. The gulf between us grew. At some point, I’m not sure when, it became impossible to cross.

Or so I thought.

“Something’s going on, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to tell me about it?”

“I can handle it.” I bristle as I say it. Even though I know it’s a stupid thing to assert.

“I know you can,” he replies without missing a beat. “I just thought you might need a sounding board. Trapped in your head is a lonely place to be, Phoenix.”

The ocean looks particularly beautiful today. Mysterious, holding secrets just beneath the surface of every emerald wave. I kick off my shoes and walk in a little deeper so that the water can touch my feet.

“There’s a woman,” I say. “Elyssa. She’s become… important to me.”

“I gathered.”

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