Page 144 of Breaking Rosalind
Before I can consider the answer, Benito picks up his phone, makes several taps on its screen, and slides it across the table.
Lying on the back seat of a car is a dark-haired woman. Her naked body is covered in puncture wounds and blood. I recognize the knife embedded in her chest. It’s the same one Cesare used to cut me out of my jumpsuit.
Lucrezia.
I try to rise off his lap, but his strong arms pin me to his chest. How the hell would Matteo Galliano know Cesare owned the same zombie knife?
FIFTY-SIX
CESARE
Hours later, I scale the side of the Victorian building, using everything available as hand and footholds. My fingers grip ivy, decorative cornices, and protruding bricks as I keep my gaze on the third-floor window of Miranda’s dorm room.
Ignoring the phone buzzing in my back pocket, I continue upward. Matteo won’t just stop at my exes. He’ll ask around until someone works out that my underage friend is Miranda. I can’t allow her to get hurt.
Gil and my brother continued grilling me about the murders and then moved onto asking if I had relapsed. All that talk unsettled Rosalind, so I had to take her upstairs. She tries to be strong, but I could tell from the way she flinched at my touch that she thinks I’m a killer.
Now is the time to fix two looming problems: Rosalind’s stubbornness and my concerns for Miranda’s safety. I plan on using her twisted relationship with her little sister to break her spirit.
“Are you still watching?” I ask for the benefit of the camera mounted on my head.
I left Rosalind sitting up, gagged, and chained to the bed, watching me live stream my ascent to where I left her sister. If she surrendered her body to save Miranda from the bear trap, then it’s time to force her to surrender vital information about the Moirai.
In moments, I reach the window and peer into a darkened dorm room. It’s stark, save for a single desk-lamp illuminating a scattered array of textbooks and papers. My lips tighten at the lack of photos, posters, or other paraphernalia that could make this room a home. It’s more like a prison.
I tap on the glass, and Miranda emerges from the shadows, dressed in a black turtleneck and a matching hat. She slides open the window and grins.
“What’s that?” She points at the camera.
“Never seen a head mount?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“You going to invite me in, love?” I ask with a grin.
She laughs. “What are you, a vampire?”
“Maybe.” I flash my teeth. “Or maybe I’m the big bad wolf.”
She steps aside, allowing me to climb in.
“Did you pack a bag?”
She scampers to her narrow bed and retrieves a backpack. “Where are we going?”
I pull off the head mount and turn off the phone’s camera app. Rosalind doesn’t need to hear the part where I need to keep Miranda safe.
“Do you remember those men at the airport?”
Her smile fades. “The ones who got you spooked?”
I nod. “One of them is very dangerous, and he’s trying to get at me through my friends.”
“What does that mean?” she asks, her breath quickening. “Has he taken my sister?”
“No. Rosalind is fine.”
“Then why are you here?” she asks, her gaze darting toward the door. “I thought you were going to take me to the club?”