Page 12 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

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Elyssa

All I can think is,He’s here.

He looks so wrong in this place. It’s an ocean of white, of purity and obedience, of people who do what they’re told and suppress their emotions.

Phoenix Kovalyov, on the other hand, is a black vortex. He’s rage incarnate. He’s a furious hurricane ripping through and setting the place on fire with every single step.

The suit he’s wearing gleams like onyx. It’s pure black, cut to his body perfectly. His shoulders are broad. His hair effortlessly tousled. And those eyes—they shine brighter than the stained glass windows rimming the walls.

He’s absolutely breathtaking.

And absolutely deadly.

In a matter of seconds, his men form a ring around the entirety of the cathedral. They surround the pews, boxing everyone in.

The men of the Sanctuary are standing now, trying to get a handle of the situation. The women and children remain hunched in their seats, looking around in panic and confusion. I can see my mother in the front pew. She’s clutching my father’s forearm, her knuckles bone-white.

It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her touch him.

But I don’t have time to worry about that now. Or the fact that a new contingent of Phoenix’s men have begun dragging select members of the crowd out of the cathedral.

I’m too focused on Phoenix striding down the aisle towards me.

He looks like an Adonis. A cold, unfeeling Adonis with diamond eyes that promise all kinds of suffering.

Josiah is still clinging to me. I can feel the cold sweat of fear moistening his fingertips. Phoenix looks at me for one endless moment before he turns his attention to my almost-husband.

“You must be the noble leader I’ve heard so much about,” he drawls, his tone biting.

Josiah looks ashen. Sweat drips down his forehead. Did I think he looked smart when I first saw him? Composed? Regal? Seeing him beside Phoenix, the thought seems almost laughable. Josiah might as well be a toad squatting next to a prince.

He’s almost as tall as Phoenix is, and yet somehow, he seems to shrink more and more the closer Phoenix gets.

Phoenix slows to a halt at the foot of the dais. “Beautiful ceremony,” he quips in an unpleasant tone that makes my skin crawl. “So sorry to interrupt.”

I want to ask him what he’s doing here. But my tongue feels bloated. I can’t speak. I can’t move. I can only wait and see what he does next.

“Who the fuck are you?” Josiah demands.

I flinch instinctively. I’ve never heard Josiah speak like that before. Of the people in the crowd who are paying attention to what’s happening up here, a few gasp in shock.

Phoenix smiles. It’s terrifying.

“Me?” he says innocently. “We’ll get to that. But for now, I have a few questions for you.”

Josiah is trying to look calm and unaffected by this disruption, but I can see it in the blotchy patches on his skin. In his darting irises. In his sweating brow.

He’s just as afraid as the rest of us.

“They call you Father Josiah, yes?”

His Adam’s apple jumps as he gulps. “Yes.”

“Leader of the Sanctuary and all the dark secrets it holds?”

All the dark secrets it holds?What’s that supposed to mean?

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