Page 105 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

That’s all. Just my name. I don’t know what the fuck it means. But at the moment, it doesn’t seem to matter.

All that matters is this. Her. Me. Us.

“Are you okay?” I ask, breaking the heavy silence.

“No,” she replies quietly. “I’m not. Which is why I didn’t want to be alone. I… I don’t know what I’ll do without him. I don’t know how you survived it. And it feels like sitting still is a betrayal somehow. Like I should be doing more. I just wish…”

“Yes?” I ask, when she stops short.

She shakes her head heavily. “I just wish things had turned out differently.”

“Differently how?”

She shrugs. Her shoulders look feeble, especially in the sheer fabric of her dress. “I don’t know. Differently enough that Charity would still be alive and Theo would never have been in danger.”

“There’s no point in thinking about alternatives to what has happened, Elyssa. It’ll tear you apart. Break you. Trust me—I know.”

“Sometimes, I think that if I worry enough, I’ll develop the ability to go back in time and change everything,” Elyssa admits with an anxious chuckle.

I almost smile. “What would you change first?”

“I used to think I would change that night,” she suggests in a soft voice. “But lately, I’m not so sure.”

That surprises me. “You wouldn’t change the rape?” I ask. “The fire? The gunfight?”

“No,” she says, avoiding my eyes. “I wouldn’t.”

“Why the fuck not?”

She sighs. “Because if it hadn’t been for that night. I wouldn’t have met you. And if I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t have Theo.”

Well, fuck.What the hell am I supposed to say to that?

“For the record, I believe he’s my son,” I admit.

She raises her amber eyes up to mine. They’re so full of love and trust. I called her a naïve brat earlier, but that wasn’t fair. It’s not naïveté I see in Elyssa.

It’s hope.

It’s purity.

It’s salvation.

“I know,” she says simply.

She smiles so beautifully that I can’t stop myself from looking at her. I wish I had the words to tell her what this moment means to me. But I don’t. And, without that, I wish I could reach out to touch her and show her what it means to me.

But I can’t.

Because everything I touch dies.

And there’s no fucking chance I’d survive the pain of losing her.

“Walk with me,” I rasp.

She nods and slips her hand into mine. We meander down the beach, not saying a word. Just breathing together and listening to the sound of the waves kissing the shore.

But when the skyline of the old ruins comes into sight, Elyssa stops and turns towards them. “Why hasn’t it been cleared away?” she asks.

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