Page 145 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

I ignore that and jump into the front seat the moment Konstantin vacates it. From the driver’s seat, I look down at the two of them. “I’ll keep you informed. Get the teams ready. I want everyone ready for battle at a moment’s notice. Matvei, I’ll give you the signal—”

“No,” he responds before I’ve even finished talking. “You can give Konstantin the signal.” Then he opens the passenger side door and jumps in next to me. “I’m coming with you.”

I clench my jaw. “Are you sure? This is my battle. My mistake. Not yours.”

He scoffs. “Elyssa went into the fucking lion’s den. Of course we have to go after her. And if you’re going, so am I.”

“You don’t think this is foolish? Reckless? Stupid?”

Matvei smirks. “Oh, it’s definitely all of the above. But sometimes, that can’t be helped. And anyway, I trust you. What more do we need than that?”

I don’t realize how much I need to hear those words until Matvei says them. I clap him on the shoulder. “Thank you, brother.”

He laughs, then knocks my hand off. “Don’t get all touchy-feely on me. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Fair enough,” I chuckle. “Pure asshole, from here on out.”

“Good. Just the way it’s supposed to be. Now, are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I reply.

Then I tear out of the driveway, zooming out between the gates just as they open for us.

For a few minutes, the only sound is the roar of the engine as I rip past cars on the road. Horns squeal, but I don’t give a fuck. And as soon as they see the kind of car I’m driving, they shut right up.

Matvei is oddly silent.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I urge. “The quiet is creeping me the fuck out.”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.”

“Fuck off, Matvei. Out with it.”

He sighs, then shifts around in his seat. “Okay. So why is Elyssa going to confront Astra Tyrannis?”

“To get Theo back,” I say. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Right. But why do they have him in the first place?”

I ponder that for a second. “Leverage.”

Matvei nods sagely. “Exactly. But leverage against whom?”

“I fucking hate guessing games, Matvei. Get to the point.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “‘What is‘Leverage against you’?’for five hundred, Alex.”

“So…”

“So that doesn’t answer this: what if the boy is Josiah’s?” he points out. “We never got the paternity test sorted.”

“And we’re not going to.” I don’t even realize I’ve made the decision until the words come spilling out of my mouth.

“Say that again for the slow kids in the back,” Matvei says in shock.

“I’m serious,” I say, doubling down on the decision. “There’s no need for a paternity test. The child isn’t Josiah’s. He’s mine.”

“How do you know? Like, biologically?”

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