Page 132 of Breaking Rosalind
He’s acting like I gave him the wrong answer, because somewhere in his twisted psyche, he equates torturing a woman half to death with affection.
Finally, his eyes dim, releasing the pressure on my chest. “Will you help me?”
“Yes,” I say, because that’s the truth. I will give him information, but it will come at a price.
“Good girl. One more question.”
Closing my eyes, I focus on the rhythm of my ragged breaths. With enough concentration, I might be able to beat the drug and work out how to negotiate Miranda’s freedom.
“Look at me,” he growls.
My eyes snap open. A nasty side effect of scopolamine is that it makes its victim incredibly susceptible to commands.
“Did you mastermind the attack on Roman?”
“No.”
Shock registers across his features, and his eyes widen before the mask snaps back into place. Maybe it’s finally sinking in that I’m just a pawn trapped in a much larger game.
“The other agents are immune to truth serums. How are they doing it?”
I grind my teeth, wanting to be resistant, wanting to bargain this information for my daughter. Past traumas creep to the forefront of my mind, splintering the edges of my sanity. I see Miranda with her head in a bear trap, her face wet with tears and blood staining the white of her shirt. I see Cesare standing over her, shirtless, and holding that antique pistol.
If I tell him what he wants, then Gunther will hunt Miranda. If I don’t, then Miranda loses her innocence. Either way, my little girl is in danger, and I’m too enmeshed in chemical bondage to help her.
When a large hand lands on my shoulder, I don’t freeze or even flinch. My body floods with pleasure. Pleasure at whatever diabolical concoction he’s added to the truth serum.
“Go on, pet. Tell me what they do to evade my questions.”
“If you visualize the lie as the truth before saying it, then your body won’t react as if it’s a lie.”
He nods. “I like this cooperative version of you. Now, tell me how to destroy the Moirai,” he says.
Gunther’s threat over Miranda’s life rings like an alarm bell. My mind scrambles to concoct a distraction, a lie, a piece of misinformation that might keep Miranda safe, but the truth claws at my throat.
Whichever way I go, Miranda will get hurt.
“It’s impossible,” I rasp.
His eyes narrow. “A woman as brilliant as you would have run through multiple scenarios. Tell me what we can do to take them down?”
Relief escapes my lungs in an outward breath. Cesare’s question has just enough nuance for me to side-step. The Montesano family has enough resources to hurt the Moirai, but only an insider can destroy them from within.
I know a man. A powerful man. A man who wants to annihilate the firm. He has connections that span levels within the building even I can’t penetrate, but he lacks the Montesano’s vast resources. Putting them together would help Cesare and his brothers, but what about Miranda and me?
“It’s complicated,” I say through ragged breaths.
“Why?”
“The drugs. I can’t think straight.”
Nodding, he reaches to the IV attached to my arm and twists its valve, stopping the flow of serum. I slump back in the wheelchair under a wave of exhaustion.
“Take a break. You’ve done so well.”
I close my eyes, relaxing under his touch as he encases me in bandages. Let him think he’s winning this game of wits. No matter what he does to those operatives, they’re weeks away from breaking.
He thinks I’m close to spilling my secrets, but I can tell he’s becoming desperate. I cling onto the small win, letting the world drift away. The next time I wake up, I’ll be stronger. And I’ll negotiate a way out of this for me and my baby.