Page 132 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

The world blacks out when I come. It takes a long time for the light to come back into my eyes. I brace my hands on either side of her on the desk and wait until my breathing returns.

Trembling, she sits up, wincing at her soreness and fatigue. I grab a couple of tissues and wipe myself off. Then I move to the floor to recover the files that had we’d upended.

When I bend down to pick them up, I see the contents of one have spilled loose. A paperclipped stack of glossy photos, fanned out on the carpet. All show the faces of young women, none of whom could possibly be out of their teens.

It makes my stomach turn to think of where they might be now. Scattered in the dark corners of the world. Being used by men who don’t give a shit. Robbed of hope or love or a chance at a real future.

Elyssa groans as she pushes herself off the desk and limps over to where her clothes are piled on the floor.

I’m about to stuff the photos back in the file folder—when I spy something sickeningly familiar.

I pull out the picture and stare at the young woman staring back at me.

It’s Elyssa.

And in her arms is a baby boy. He can’t be more than two. In fact, I know for damn sure that’s how old he is.

Because I know that boy.

I mourned that boy.

I think of that boy every single fucking day.

When I turn to Elyssa, she’s already dressed and looking like she’s floating on a cloud of bliss. But her expression curdles the moment she sees my face.

“Phoenix…?” she asks. “What is it?”

All the hope that had gripped me moments ago is gone.

All the love has vanished.

All I can say are four little words: “What have you done?”

32

Elyssa

“Phoenix?” I ask. “What is it?” My head is still whirring after that violent, passionate sex. I’m having a hard time focusing.

He doesn’t answer immediately. He just stares at me as though he doesn’t recognize me anymore.

That’s what scares me the most.

“What have you done?” he says again in a barely audible whisper.

Oh, so many things, I want to say.So many things that I regret. That I wish I could take back.

“What did you find?” I choke out the question, even though I want to run from the answer.

He holds up something. I can tell it’s a photograph, but I can’t see who’s in it. Taking a tentative step forward, I take it in my shaking hands.

I don’t look at it right away. My eyes are still fixed on Phoenix’s face. On the man I thought I knew. Thought I loved.

The change in him is so stark that it takes my breath away.

I look down.

And I see why.

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