Page 235 of Breaking Rosalind
“Rosalind belongs to me,” I say through clenched teeth. “You want me to join your organization, then I get to keep her.”
Tommy turns to the guards, who are halfway out the door. “Manny, Gino. Bring back the girl.” He turns back to me with narrowed eyes. “You’re leaving your brothers to save this treacherous cunt?”
My nostrils flare. Nobody gets to call Rosalind names and keep their balls, but we’re outmatched, outnumbered, outgunned.
Rosalind’s gaze burns the side of my face. I never told her the reason Matty Galliano wanted to create a rift between me and my family. Instead, I let her assume all those attacks were because of a turf war.
“That’s right,” I reply through clenched teeth. “I won’t join your family without Rosalind.”
I hear her gasp over the sound of grunts and groans and the pounding of my pulse, but I can’t meet her gaze. Not while knowing I share blood with the man who abused her as a child and got her pregnant.
Tommy’s face stretches into the sinister grin Mom always told me to get under control. Now, I understand why. In this man’s features, I see an older version of myself with a face caked in dark makeup which I can only assume hides burn scars.
Matty groans from the hospital bed on the other side of the room. “What happened to my Miriam? What did she do with my little girl?”
My gaze flicks to the creature that I can no longer deny is my father, and I shudder. Miriam must be Miranda.
“Good question,” Tommy says, the corner of his eyes crinkling. He swings around to where the guards are holding Rosalind. “Where’s my niece?”
Rosalind spits at him.
Tommy lurches toward her and slaps her hard across the face, which earns him a kick that he only narrowly dodges. He turns to me, his eyes dancing with madness. “I can get you better whores. Ones that aren’t so belligerent, although I hear she’s a tiger in bed.”
Something inside me snaps.
“Keep your mouth shut!” I break free from the guards and rush at Tommy, catching him off guard. My hands wrap around his throat. I slam my head into his face before a small army of guards hoist me off my feet.
A fist lands my jaw, making my head snap to the side. Another finds its way to my gut with double the amount of force. I double over, gasping for breath, my eyes watering, my ears ringing with Tommy’s manic laugher.
One day, I will cut out that bastard’s tongue and stick it up his rectum.
“Tommy, stop antagonizing the kids,” Matty groans.
“Look at me, boy,” Tommy says, ignoring his brother.
One of the assholes at my back grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks up my head, forcing our gazes to meet.
I’m no fan of comics, but if you lighten the tan makeup to white and smear that filthy mouth with blood, Tommy Galliano would make a perfect Joker.
Jigsaw puzzles click into place somewhere in the recesses of my mind. Mom’s coddling, her insistence that I go to medical school, her believing I killed my rabbit, Dr. Brunelli’s pseudo psychology... They were afraid I would turn into a maniac like Tommy Galliano.
“Tell me where to find my baby niece, or I’ll kill Rosalind,” Tommy says, baring unnaturally white teeth.
At her pained whimper. I turn to meet her hazel eyes. Eyes that plead for me to stay quiet. Eyes that are prepared to suffer any amount of humiliation and torment to keep Miranda safe. Eyes that glisten with tears, while her forehead breaks out in sweat.
Tommy prances across the room and holds a gun to Rosalind’s temple. “It’s an easy enough decision,” he says, his manic smile softening to something he probably thinks is benevolent. “Save the mother’s life by reuniting a lonely little girl with her daddy.”
Who happens to be a pedophile.
I leave that part unspoken because Tommy Galliano is the type of man who would pull the trigger out of spite.
Rosalind’s features turn blank. It’s the same expression she used to make when I had her on my torture table. Chills run down my spine and the backs of my eyes burn. The only difference between this deranged psychopath and me is age, and that I don’t need to hide my face behind layers of makeup.
He turns off the safety with a click.
“Come on, boy,” he says, his voice coaxing. “Tell us where to find little Miri.”
Blood pounds through my temples. I stare into Rosalind’s eyes, noting the subtle shake of her head.