Page 185 of Breaking Rosalind
If I don’t take control of my desires, I’m afraid Cesare might be right.
SEVENTY-THREE
CESARE
The next morning, after my anger has cooled and after Rosalind hate fucks me until my balls ache for mercy, I’m driving her to one of the armories our family owns across town.
It’s a huge warehouse, guarded by some of our most hardened men, where we keep the explosives too volatile to keep beneath the estate. We will need this level of destructive power to penetrate the inner sanctum of the Moirai headquarters.
Rosalind is quiet in the passenger seat, pretending to be busy sending texts to Miranda while her eyes are on the passing buildings. The air is thick with tension and no amount of background music can clear the heavy silence.
Last night changed our dynamic. Both for the better and the worse. Galliano’s attack on Sofia got me so worked up emotionally that I agreed to her audacious demand for freedom. Now, she thinks we’re equals.
Granted, she’s strong, intelligent, highly trained, and lethal, but she will forever be my property. My pet. But I agreed to free her if she killed the Galliano brothers. I’m tempted to make the fatal blow myself and keep Rosalind at my side on a technicality.
The industrial estate comes into sight. It’s one of the few with a checkpoint of armed guards around its gates. The buildings behind it stand tall against the sickly yellow sunrise. No one could ever suspect it contains enough weapons to level half the city.
As we approach, the guards exit their checkpoint and ready their weapons. I slow down to lower my window, and they wave me inside.
We park outside a door secured with biometric identification technology, and I step out. Rosalind puts her phone away and follows, her gaze roaming over the building.
Curiosity gnaws at my ego about how our armory compares to the Moirai, but I quell that ridiculous thought. Rosalind has already turned her back on her old firm. It’s only a matter of time before she realizes she wants to stay with me.
I open the door and usher her into the cold, sterile space carrying the scent of gunpowder and metal. The lights snap on, illuminating rows upon rows of crates stacked toward the ceiling, each one carefully labeled.
We walk around the boxed guns toward the back of the building where we keep the explosives. Gil once compared the inside of our armory to a Home Depot for militias. It’s spacious like a home improvement warehouse, but instead of tools and supplies, it is stocked with weapons of all sizes.
I glance over at Rosalind to gauge her reaction, but she remains stoic. Her gaze scans a carton of grenades and moves onto a box of C-4 explosives with an intensity some might find unnerving. Having a ruthless assassin at my command is exhilarating.
“What do you think?” I ask.
She tilts her head. “There isn’t nearly enough to penetrate the Moirai’s lower levels, but it’s a start.”
My jaw drops. “How deep is the building?”
“At least ten stories.”
“At least?” I ask.
“I’m not authorized to access the lower levels,” she says with a shrug. “Which is why we need more explosive power.”
“Leave it with me. I can reach out to other families.”
“We need an accelerant,” she says.
I raise my brows. “What kind?”
“Mercury nitrovolucite.”
“Never heard of it. Is it anything like fulminated mercury?” I think about the TV show where the main character throws a crystal of the compound on the floor to trigger an explosion.
Rosalind makes a see-saw motion with her hand. “It’s more stable, which makes it easier to transport. If we can introduce mercury nitrovolucite inside the Moirai HQ before we detonate the bombs, it will increase our chances of destroying even the lowest of levels.”
I suck in a deep breath, already picturing how Benito will react to us creating a crater in the middle of Beaumont City. “How much collateral damage are we talking?”
“None.” She shakes her head for emphasis. “The building is a mile away from its nearest neighbor. There’s no chance of anyone getting hurt.”
“Fine. Where do we get your mercury nitrovolucite?”