Page 212 of Breaking Rosalind
“What brings you to my territory?” he asks over the muffled screams.
I place a hand on Rosalind’s shoulder, already sick of this bullshit. The shadowy figures and creepy meeting place, followed by the dismemberment, were all set up to make him seem intimidating.
“Cut the theatrics,” I drawl. “No one is impressed by this.”
He slams the machete down on his victim’s leg, separating the lower limb from the rest of his body. The man goes rigid and howls.
“Is this Xero?” I ask Rosalind.
She shrugs. “Maybe?”
He finally turns around, holding the severed leg. Beneath a black hood is a face I doubt even his mother could love. I thought my eyes were pale, but this man’s irises belong to an animated corpse. Or a fucking snowman. Beneath the hood are traces of blond hair so pale, it might as well be white.
He probably thinks the two silver rings on his bottom lip make him look edgy, but all I see is a piss-poor attempt to hide a pretty boy. I glance at Rosalind for her reaction, and I’m relieved to find her unimpressed.
“Is this a bad time?” I ask. “Because I hate to interrupt a man while he’s satisfying his darker urges.”
He laughs, revealing a pierced tongue. “I don’t take kindly to men using my territory as a murder ground. Homicides attract cops, and cops attract the press.”
“Looks like we have something in common,” Rosalind says. “Long time, no see.”
So, this is Xero. What a pretentious asshole.
His gaze flicks up and down Rosalind’s form. “Looking good. Can’t say the same about the company you keep.”
“You going to get to the point?” I wave the gun at the pile of severed body parts, which includes a head and a torso.
He tosses the leg onto the pile. “That was a lackey of the man who tried to murder a woman from your household.”
I stiffen, remembering how Sofia told us she was attacked at her brother’s grave. “Show me his face.”
Xero raises a finger. “First, I want to know what you and Rosalind want.”
“The man who attacked that woman is targeting everyone associated with me,” I say through clenched teeth. “I want to hunt him down before he kills anyone else.”
“Then we have something in common,” Xero says. “What do you want?”
“His name is Matty Galliano. I want you and your team to locate where he’s hiding.”
Xero nods. “That won’t be a problem. Anything else?”
Rosalind steps forward. “We’re planning something big to coincide with the next graduation run. I need your people to smuggle some items into levels eleven through thirteen to take down the entire building.”
His eyes widen, and his lips curl into a broad grin.
“Sounds like you’re planning a real party.” Xero rubs the bloody edge of the machete on his sleeve. “Count me in.”
EIGHTY-FIVE
ROSALIND
Dr. Daniel hovers above me in a circle of iron with his limbs outstretched like the Vitruvian Man. Warm droplets of blood drip on my face from his broken nose and severed penis.
I try to thrash within my restraints, but they’re like a cocoon, and I can’t move my limbs. Then saltwater rises from all directions, threatening to pull me into the sea.
Shit. This is getting worse.
The waves part, and Britt’s corpse advances toward me with her arms outstretched. “You killed me,” she says in a hopeless monotone. “Because of you, I died the worst possible death.”