Page 63 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

“Phoenix—” She reaches towards me, but I back away further. Her arm is left suspended between us. It falters slightly before finally dropping to her side.

“You don’t understand,” I say softly, gazing off in the direction of the ocean. It’s easier than looking at those huge, amber eyes, filled with hurt. “I still remember the exact moment when I saw Aurora’s body. It was obvious that she suffered before they snuffed her out. But the suffering didn’t leave imprints on her body. It was her face. The expression on it…”

I notice that Elyssa’s tears are falling fast now. But I keep going regardless.

She needs to know.

She needs to understand.

“When people die, everyone looks at their faces and they can say, ‘He looks peaceful now,’ or ‘She’s finally at rest’. You want to know that their suffering is at end. But when I looked at my dead wife’s face, I didn’t see peace. I saw pain and suffering and fear. And then Yuri… I never saw my son’s body. I was denied even the opportunity to bury him. I raged and cursed about that for weeks, months after the fact. But in selfish moments, I’m thankful I didn’t have to see what his face would’ve looked like. I’m not sure I would have survived it.”

“You can survive anything,” Elyssa says softly.

“You can’t possibly believe that.”

“I do.”

I turn to look at her warily. “Why?”

She shrugs heavily, another tear dropping down onto her clothes. “Because I recognized something in you the night we met. It’s the whole reason I gravitated to a stranger I should have been terrified of. Deep down, I knew I could trust you. You haven’t lost your humanity, Phoenix. No matter how much you try to convince me otherwise, I refuse to believe it. But I do think youwantto lose it. I think you believe that, if you lose that part of you that makes you human, you won’t feel the pain anymore. The guilt.”

I hear my blood rushing in my ears. Or maybe it’s the roar of the ocean. I’m not sure. Nothing feels real anymore.

“But you deserve to move on,” she adds.

I shake my head, rejecting the words immediately. “No. There will be no moving on for me.”

“Please, Phoenix… Please don’t push me away.”

“I shouldn’t have done this,” I say before I can stop myself. “This was a mistake.”

She goes still. “What are you saying?”

“I should never have married you. It was the wrong decision. But it can be fixed. Dissolved.”

“Dissolved?” she repeats.

“I can undo it,” I tell her. “And I can release you from your ties to me. To this whole situation. If you want to leave, Elyssa… I won’t stop you.”

She stares at me uncertainly. I want to shut up and accept what she’s giving me. The absolution I’ve spent five long years craving and rejecting in equal measure.

But I can’t. I don’t know any other way to exist.

So I keep talking.

I keep pushing.

I keep saying “no” to a future that isn’t dripping with pain.

“I’ll give you money,” I say hoarsely. “Enough money to start a new life somewhere far away. Away from all of this. I can buy you a new name, a new identity, a house, a car. Everything you need.”

“Phoenix, you’re not—"

“Think about it.”

I start walking away down the beach. She just stands there, staring after me.

“You’re leaving me here?” she calls into the breeze.

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