Page 119 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

I cease talking instantly, waiting for the storm in his eyes to break. When he looks at me, I have to suppress the shiver in my spine.

“I believe you.”

“You do?”

He nods.

“Oh.” I’m not prepared for this.

He changes position and sits down next to me. Our shoulders touch and I turn to the side, staring at him with obvious disbelief.

I don’t know what’s going on in his head. I decide not to press him. It’s enough for now to have those three crucial words—I believe you.They feel like the first sip of water after days in the desert.

“What do we do now?” I ask, before the silence can suffocate me any longer.

“We get back in there and get some tactical information out of Raj,” Phoenix says with renewed determination. “I’m willing to bet that it’s not easy to get in and out of this so-called Garden.”

“Raj will know how,” I whisper softly.

“Exactly. Raj will know how. And he’ll tell us, one way or another.”

“And then what?”

Phoenix’s eyes are onyx black. “Then we go to the Garden and uproot the whole fucking thing until I find my son.”

29

Phoenix

One Day Later

I haven’t spoken to her in hours. Not since we hit the road, just the two of us, like we’re on some sort of perverse road trip.

I have a team already stationed ahead of us, near the Sanctuary. But they’re not going to be involved in the break-in. We can’t afford that risk. The plan is to be surreptitious about it. Sneak in, find Theo, and get the fuck out.

Then we’ll be free to burn the place to the ground without worrying that he’ll be caught in the crossfire.

It was a good plan—right up until the minute Elyssa insisted on coming.

“You need me,” she had argued. “I know these people, their customs, the way they think. If something happens, maybe I can help throw them off our scent.”

My first thought was,Hell no.

My second thought was,Goddammit—she’s right.

Hence the silence.

She’s glancing at me now. Then she turns away with a shake of her head.

“What?” I demand when she does it for the tenth time in an hour.

She snorts. “Stop pouting.”

“I’m not sure you realize what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I’m not sureyoudo.”

“You’re overthinking.”

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