Page 138 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

“And if it turns out he’s been dead for years?”

“Then you’re strong enough to deal with it. You’ve been dealing with it for five years. But for now, he might be out there. He might be within reach.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game with me, Matvei.”

“Haven’t you realized by now, Phoenix? It’s all dangerous, my brother.”

I get to my feet. Matvei does, too. I stretch my arm out and he clasps it tightly. “I’m sorry, brother,” I say to him solemnly. “I got lost somewhere along the way.”

“I knew you’d find your way back,” he tells me confidently.

“Did you?”

He smiles. “Well, I hoped you would, anyway. A dumbass of your magnitude certainly takes your time getting back on track, though. Now, I’ve got shit to do. Firstly, we’ll get the prisoners moved back to the commune. Then we’ll weed out the guilty from the ignorant and do what we need to do.”

I nod. “Before you do, though, I want to talk to the ones who knew shit. I’ll need a little more information before we go in guns blazing.”

“Glad to see I’ve rubbed off on you.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

We meet each other’s eyes and I give him a nod. Things are still a fucking mess, but to have Matvei at my side again, a small part of my world feels like it’s back in its rightful place.

As for Elyssa, I don’t know how to move forward. Forgiveness seems like an impossible stretch. But I can’t see myself giving her up, either.

Which leaves me with only one option: Wait it out. Give it time.

And hope that somehow, we find our way again.

34

Elyssa

Two Days Later

You should speak to your parents.

“What would I say?” I ask my dead friend. “Thanks for making my whole life a lie? Thanks for making me complicit in heinous crimes that I’ll always feel responsible for? Thanks for ruining any chance I had to find happiness in the real world?”

You’ve been holding that in a long time, huh?

I take a deep breath.

I’ve been alone for the last two days—self-imposed solitude. I’ve seen Phoenix only once. We made eye contact once for the length of a blink. When he turned away, it felt like a slap in the face.

He’s not avoiding you.

“Shut up,” I mutter.

Meow. Don’t bite my head off.

“You don’t have a head remember? You’re dead.”

Rude. Extremely rude.

“I’m being honest. You’re not here, Charity. I need to stop talking to you.”

So stop talking to me then.

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