Page 224 of Breaking Rosalind
“Put a bag over my head, so I look like the other hostages,” I say to Cesare as he leaves to get his brother.
“You sure?”
I nod.
Although most operatives and support staff will be at the academy’s graduation run, there will be a skeleton crew monitoring us as we approach HQ. We can’t allow them to see me, sitting pretty among the Montesano brothers.
Everyone at the Moirai might act like I’m an incompetent screw up, but they’ll soon remember why I was at the top of my classes and was the only graduate who was given solo missions. Everyone else had to serve at least a year as an analyst.
The bag does nothing to block my vision, but I close my eyes and focus on slowing my breath. Nothing has been left to chance, but I’m prepared in case anything goes wrong.
Several minutes later, Roman’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Can they hear us?”
“They’re in sensory deprivation. All wearing earplugs and blindfolds,” Cesare answers.
The brothers discuss the firms of assassins Roman has employed to track down the Galliano brothers, and I’m surprised when Cesare doesn’t mention Xero’s text. Roman talks about them like they’re business rivals he needs to eliminate instead of a monster who married his mother.
But judging by the conversations I overheard about Tania and Allegra’s murders, his family doesn’t believe that Matteo would target people connected to Cesare. Outsiders think Matteo is the quieter brother, who gives the appearance of a kind uncle, while Tommaso is the raging psychopath.
Matteo probably targeted Cesare because he’s the most vulnerable of the Montesano brothers. He’s younger, volatile, unpredictable, and doesn’t seem to command the same level of respect as Roman and Benito.
He’s criminally underestimated.
Just like me.
“They know we’re coming?” Roman asks.
“It’s all arranged,” Cesare replies.
“How do we know we’re not driving into a trap?”
“It’s not a trap if we’re coming in with a Trojan horse.”
“Explain this plan to me again,” Roman says.
I tune out as Cesare tells his brother how the mercury nitrovolucite crystals will cause a chain of chemical reactions that will increase the range of the explosives below the tenth floor.
“And Leroi’s little assassin?” Roman asks.
I hold my breath.
“You mean my little assassin,” Cesare snaps.
“She’s leaving with the others, right?” Roman growls.
“Of course,” Cesare says, sounding suspiciously calm. “She’ll soon be a dead little assassin.”
My jaw clenches. What the hell is he saying? I would interrupt them, but there’s a bag over my head, and I’m supposed to have on earmuffs. Cesare knows I can hear him, and he knows I can break free and save myself.
My mind races through the possibilities. Is Cesare bullshitting Roman? Because after everything we’ve gone through together, he can’t really be planning my death.
Moments later, the air changes. It’s a subtle shift that’s barely noticeable unless you know what to look for. Status electricity crackles against my skin, and my nostrils fill with the faintest scent of ozone. We’ve just crossed the first of the demarcation lines surrounding the Moirai HQ.
I’ve driven through this patch of road so many times I recognize every bump in the road. There’s a subtle incline in the tarmac, and the vehicle slows at the entrance of the building we were told to deliver the hostages.
It’s one of the decoy structures close to our official entrance, where we accept the occasional delivery. A hidden elevator shaft lies within a locked room that grants access to all except the secret levels.
We continue again into the parking lot. I don’t need the use of my eyes to know it’s surrounded by armed operatives. They’ll remain cordial until they’ve retrieved their personnel, then all hell will break loose.