Page 170 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

The third bucket of ice water wakes me up completely. I cough and force my gaze up to face whatever comes next. When my vision clears, Ozol comes into focus again, his eyes narrowed at me with irritation.

I’ve been strung up by my hands once more, but they’ve allowed my feet to reach the floor. How fucking kind.

“Good morning, Phoenix,” Viktor greets, the very specter of politeness.

“The fuck do you want?”

“Is that anyway to greet your host?”

“Cut the shit,” I sigh. “What do you want?”

“What makes you think I want something?”

“Why else am I alive?”

He smiles. It betrays the near madness that lies just beneath his façade of normalcy. “You’re alive because I haven’t yet decided to end your life yet,” he says. “You see? You see how much you owe me?”

I shake my head. “You want something.”

“You’ve got me all wrong,” Ozol murmurs, shaking his head. “You assume you have something of worth that I want. But you don’t. I’m not doing this to barter or bargain. This is about power, plain and simple. About sending a message.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning that my idea of entertainment is very different from most. You see, when you’re raised in the underworld, when you grow up around rape and murder and everything in between, it takes a lot to keep a man amused.”

I stare at the madman in front of me in disgust. But he’s not done yet.

“So you start having to invent games. Create your own entertainment.”

“This is a game to you?”

“Oh yes, it most certainly is,” Ozol nods, as though he’s thrilled that I’ve finally understood him. “The kind of games that only a god understands.”

I laugh bitterly. “Now you’re a god?”

He raises his eyebrows. “As I said, I decide whether you live or not. And I will decide when you die. Just like I decide the fate of every woman and child that crosses my path. You’re in my hands, Master Phoenix.”

“But Elyssa is not,” I hiss. “She slipped away when you weren’t looking. Aren’t gods supposed to be all-knowing and all-seeing? When you look at it from my perspective, you’re just a regular old run-of-the-mill fuck-up.”

His jaw twitches. It’s only a tiny crack in his charade, but it’s satisfying for me. It shows me the fury surging through him beneath that carefully composed mask.

I drink in his anger. It gives me the fuel I need.

“Oh, don’t you worry,” he says, recovering fast. “I’ll get her back. And when I do, she will suffer for running. I thought I had her broken in. But apparently, I underestimated the bitch.”

“I will kill you long before you get the chance to talk about her like that again, motherfucker.”

Ozol cocks his head to the side. “I can’t decide if you’re very brave or very, very stupid.” He straightens up. “I must admit you’re right, though. I don’t have Elyssa. But I do have someone else.”

He turns towards the cell door and pulls it open again. Bending out, he ushers forward someone I can’t see.

A moment later, I notice a little shadow. And then a dark-haired boy steps in the opening of the door, right next to Ozol. The same boy from my maybe-hallucination earlier.

“Turn to him,” Ozol orders. “Let him get a good look at you.”

The boy does as he’s told.

And I go cold.

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