Page 52 of Filthy Bratva


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“I didn’t. You seem to know all about him already. There’s nothing to hide,” she replies, once again trying to paint herself like a little angel. I’m not going to allow it this time.

“No, you were lying about him constantly,” I say, doubling down. “And it doesn’t matter what I know about him now. I want to hear what you know, and I want it to be the truth. Otherwise, I don’t see any reason to continue this call.”

She gasps, and I take a sip of my coffee with a smug grin. I have her trapped now. The power is back in my hands.

“Oakley, you could be a little nicer about it than that. I’m your mother, after all,” she says, her voice small and desperate.

“And as my mother, I expect you to be honest with me. I’ve told you what I’m doing down here, now it’s your turn. I want to know about Angus. You can start by telling me why I never heard from him. Did you hide me from him?”

There’s a long pause, and for a moment, I think she’s hung up. Finally, she answers. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t exposed to that side of the world. He was a convict. That part was never made up. I was just trying to be a good mother and protect you from him.”

“You thought he would hurt me? From everything I’ve learned, he cared about me quite a bit, and you denied both of us the ability to communicate,” I reply, tears coming to my eyes.

It’s painful to think that I could’ve had a relationship with Angus had it not been for her. I’m not sure if I can forgive that.

“I did what I felt was right. I hope you can understand that,” she says, sounding like she’s about to cry herself.

I’m tempted to hang up, but I find the strength to continue. I want to know more.

“So, how did you do it? I know you changed my name, but was that all?”

“Changed names, moved across the country, and filed a restraining order against him on the basis of domestic abuse,” she replies, her voice turning cold and clinical as she admits her greatest sin.

My stomach drops. “Domestic abuse? Was that even true?”

“Does it matter?”

I knock my coffee onto the floor and jump to my feet, screaming into the phone. “Yes, it fucking matters! Jesus Christ, don’t you think framing someone for abuse is just a step too far? Couldn’t you have asked him not to talk to you? Wouldn’t that have been enough?”

“Watch your language,” she instinctively replies.

I hang up the phone, throwing it across the room so hard that the screen shatters. I let out a guttural scream and kick the coffee cup on the floor. It tumbles into the leg of another table and breaks into large fragments.

“Fuck you!” I shout, turning away and charging toward my phone. I pick it up, trying to turn it back on to no avail. It’s dead.

“Piece of shit,” I growl, throwing it across the room again. It feels good to let my anger out, but now I don’t have Savva’s contact information. He left me alone here, and the only way for me to call him was by using the number I have stored on his phone.

The phone in the office won’t do me any good.

I groan, stomping back behind the bar and making myself another cup of coffee. If anyone from the Triple Six Angels comes knocking, I’m going to the office, getting the shotgun, and shooting them on the spot.

Even then, I doubt it will quell the rage boiling inside of me.

I wish Savva would come back. I need him now more than ever, and he always leaves so suddenly. I was reluctant to accept his offer to stay with him last night, but it might be for the best. I’m too stressed here by myself.

I put my hand on my belly. I need to calm down. I don’t know what this level of stress would do to a baby, but I doubt it’s healthy. I’m sure Savva will be back soon, and I can forget about my mother for a bit and get lost in his comfortable charm.

Please, just don’t take too long, Savva. I need you.

28

Savva

“It is what it is,” I say, reaching over the table for a roll. “And I don’t want to hear shit about it. The main thing I’m concerned about is Stone and his clowns rolling up one day and trying to use her to get to me.”

“I’m not judging you. I think everyone knew it was coming,” Greg says, and Pasha nods in agreement.

“Well, I just wanted to be clear about it sincesomeof you seem to think it’s going to disrupt our operations,” I reply, shooting daggers from my eyes at Pasha.

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