Page 88 of Ripped Lace (Ripped Bratva)

My eyes go wide. “You do?”

“Yes,” he says. “I tried to talk him out of it.”

My heart drops. “But?”

“But Phoenix and I aren’t exactly seeing eye-to-eye lately. I’m not even supposed to accompany them on the attack.”

I frown. “What? What will you be doing then?”

“Staying behind,” Matvei tells me. “To guard the prisoners.”

Guard the prisoners? Even I know that’s a menial job, especially for someone of Matvei’s stature. Which means something has gone really wrong.

“So you don’t want him attacking them either?” I ask tentatively.

“Not like this, no. It’s reckless. He needs time to prepare. This isn’t some fledgling enemy cartel on the rise. This is Astra fucking Tyrannis. And they’ve obviously been keeping tabs on the Kovalyov Bratva for a while.”

I try and move forward, but I’m held back by my restraints. My wrists have deep welts by now. But the pain is negligible in the face of the panic that’s sitting on my chest at the moment.

“Matvei, you have to talk to him. Make him see sense. He’s putting my son’s life in danger.”

“He’s not listening to me anymore.”

“You have to try harder.”

“I have been trying,” he says, huffing in frustration. “For weeks, I’ve been trying to get through to him. He’s too…”

“Too what?” I demand.

“Too dredged down in the past,” Matvei explains. “He’s so determined not to make the same mistakes that I fear that’s exactly what he’ll end up doing.”

“Matvei,” I plead, “a mistake in this case will mean my son’s life.”

“I know that, Elyssa. But he is the don. No one can tell Phoenix what to do.”

I stare around the room as though the answers are hidden in there somewhere. I feel torn. Like my insides are fighting each other.

Is that what it is to love a man you’re furious with, terrified of, awed by?

“Let me go,” I say suddenly.

“What?” Matvei asks, his head snapping to mine.

“Please,” I say imploringly. “Let me out of these restraints. Let me…”

“Let you do what?”

“Let me speak to my parents,” I blurt out.

He frowns, considering my request. “What about?”

“About everything,” I say. “I haven’t had an honest conversation with them about all this. About what they know. I need to know if they were involved in some way. Maybe they have an idea of where Theo was taken.”

Matvei looks at me intently. Then he nods. “Fine.”

He moves forward and pulls out a Swiss army knife from the waistband of his trousers. I watch as he cuts away at my restraints and sets me loose.

I rub my sore wrists the moment I’m free. “Thank you.”

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