Page 67 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

His fingers slip out of my grasp. I’m not sure if I’ve let him go or if it’s the other way around.

“We’re back to this again?” I ask, the last of my lingering hope draining away into the darkness.

His eyes are cold, but I see the conflict raging there. “You don’t get to be angry,” he tells me. “You don’t get to feel betrayed.”

I look away from him so he can’t see my angry tears. “And you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“I’ll stop telling when you start telling the whole truth.”

His eyes sear through me. Trying to rip me apart piece by piece. Trying to uncover my secrets.

I wish I could tell him,Look all you want. I can’t even find them myself.

“I spoke to Josiah,” he rumbles. I can’t help flinching. Bad move. Phoenix notices. “Scared about what he might’ve said about you?”

I nod and shiver. “Yes,” I say in as even a voice as I can muster. “But not in the way you think.”

“No? Tell me more.”

“What’s the point?” I ask angrily. “You won’t believe me. You don’t trust me.”

“The point is that you don’t get another option, little lamb.”

His eyes are hot coals in their sockets. Despite the chill in the air, a bead of sweat trickles down the nape of my neck.

“I don’t even know what I might have done,” I whisper so quietly I can barely hear myself. “If I made mistakes—well, I didn’t know that that’s what they were. I just did what I was taught. You have to believe me.”

It’s getting impossible to keep the quavering out of my voice. Fighting like this? It isn’t natural to me. It hurts on a soul-deep level. I’ve never had to do it myself.

There was no fighting on the Sanctuary. It was heaven on earth, we were told. What could there possibly be to fight about?

And then, after I ran, I had Charity. She fought my battles for me. I had relied on her too much. Maybe I’d even taken advantage of it.

Now you’re just being silly,she croons in my ear.

“You’re not really here,” I whisper.

“What?” Phoenix says, reminding me that I’m not alone on this beach.

I raise my eyes to him, terrified of seeing the expression in his gaze, knowing I can’t avoid it. “Phoenix…” I whisper. “I don’t know what I’ve done.” My voice breaks with trauma. I say it again: “I don’t know what I’ve done.”

This is all too much. The world is starting to blacken and swirl around the edges. My knees buckle and I sway back. Before I can crash into the sand, Phoenix’s arms flash out and grab me.

When he pulls me forward, I slam into his hard chest but I don’t fight his touch. It’s the only thing that’s keeping me sane right now.

His fingers curl around my jaw and coaxes my face up to meet his own. His eyes are still cold, his expression still conflicted.

I don’t know how to make that go away. But God, I would if I could.

“It’s in there somewhere,” he says, tightening his grip on my jaw. “Think. Remember. Tell me what you know.”

I taste blood. I put a hand on his chest and shove away from him. “I can’t give you what you want.”

“Can’t?” he asks. “Or won’t?”

“Why are you so sure I’m one of the bad guys?”

He scoffs. “You’ve given me every reason to believe it.”

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