Page 141 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

“Elyssa…”

It’s so soft that I almost miss it. I turn back around to see that my mother has tears in her eyes.

“Yes, Mama?”

“Is it true?” she asks.

“Which part?”

“The… the… trafficking…” she stammers.

I know she wants to avoid saying the word “sex.” No wonder my rape was such a difficult topic for her to discuss.

“It is.”

“I… I…”

I look between my parents. “Are you telling me you didn’t know?”

“Elyssa, of course we didn’t know,” Papa says, taking a tentative step towards me. “We knew Josiah had his secrets. But we never thought…”

“It was this bad?”

“Yes.”

“You knew he had secrets, though,” I point out. “And you still trusted him.”

“He looked after us,” Mama says pleadingly. “He looked after all of us.”

The tear finally slips from Mama’s eyes. I want to offer her some comfort. But the void between us is too vast.

And I have my own mission now.

“You both are here because of Phoenix,” I tell them, “in case you’re wondering why you were separated from the others. He married me, which makes you both his problem now. He may seem like he’s on the wrong side, but he’s one of the good ones. If you get a chance to thank him, you should. And if you get a chance to beg for his forgiveness… well, I wouldn’t hold out for it to be given.”

Without another word, I turn around and walk out of their room. I make sure to lock it before I go.

The sun has set while I was in my parent’s room. The maids are going through the house, turning on the lights.

“Have you seen Master Phoenix?” I ask one as I walk down the hall.

“Outside, ma’am,” the older of the two replies. “In the garden.”

I thank her and head outside. It doesn’t take too long before I find him in a secluded part of the gardens. He’s staring up at the sky, but I’m betting that all his thoughts are earthbound.

“Phoenix,” I whisper.

He doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t even react. It’s like I’m not there at all, like I never spoke.

I don’t push him. Instead I walk forward until I’m standing at his side. When I look over, I see only his perfect profile.

The elegant nose. The strong jaw. The beautiful lips.

All composed into the quintessential portrait of sorrow.

I feel as though my heart is breaking.

It’s okay. You feel what he feels. That’s what love is.

---