Page 87 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

Maybe two men like us were never meant to be allies.

Maybe I’ve always been meant to be a lone wolf.

I take a breath. “Fine,” I growl. “Stay. But don’t bother getting ready with the rest of my men. You can go and guard the prisoners.”

It’s an obvious insult. He doesn’t so much as blink.

“If you want to stay, you will follow orders,” I tell him harshly. “Go.”

Matvei lingers only a moment. Then he turns to leave. I watch as his shadow dissolves into the hallway and his footsteps fade into silence.

I gather my weapons, but I stay in the room a little longer to check and re-check them. I can feel myself start to unravel at the edges.

I look up, knowing Elyssa is still raging upstairs, trying to fight her restraints. I hate that it’s come to this. History circling over itself around and around like buzzards over a rotting carcass in the desert.

I’m going to break that fucking cycle. It won’t repeat itself. One way or another, this ends soon.

It’s time to fight.

20

Elyssa

I’m shaking the chains and screaming at the top of my lungs. My cries reverberate throughout the room. No one hears, or if they do, they don’t care.

Whoa, he really unleashed the beast, huh?

“Shut up,” I snap to Charity.

Hey, hey, that was a compliment. It’s good to see you let loose. I like the badass Elyssa. Did you have to wait ‘til I died to transform?

I shake my head to try and dislodge Charity’s voice, but it doesn’t always work.

You miss me. Let yourself miss me.

“They have my son, Charity. They have Theo.”

You’re thinking yourself into a panic.

She’s probably right. I take a deep breath, but the panic doesn’t dissipate. Invisible fingers stay latched around my throat. Every time I think of Theo, they tighten.

After several minutes of thrashing and screaming, my throat is hoarse. But I refuse to let him silence me. I’m about to start screaming again—when I hear the lock click and the door opens.

I jerk up in bed, expecting Phoenix.

Instead, Matvei walks in.

His usually calm features are contorted in obvious concern. He looks at me strangely, taking in my restraints with obvious distaste.

“Matvei,” I breathe, though his name comes out in barely a whisper. “Have they left yet? Where’s Phoenix?”

“Preparing.”

“He can’t do it like this,” I say desperately. “He’s putting Theo at risk. Not to mention himself. A brazen attack will put everyone in danger.”

Matvei steps up to the edge of the bed. His expression is, as always, unreadable. But there’s an odd tone to his aura. Something haunted. Unsettled.

“I agree,” he murmurs.

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