Page 252 of Breaking Rosalind
We run across the marina to the steps of the yacht, where the stewardess from before allows us to board. I follow him through the dim corridors to the infirmary, a sterile room with two cots and stainless-steel shelves filled with medical supplies.
After grabbing a medical bag, he opens a supply cabinet. “My mother used to come out to the ocean so we could swim. She loved the water.”
I’m too frazzled to focus on what he’s saying, especially when I spot a gun resting on the table. “Where can I get some ammunition?”
He flicks his head toward a door at the end of the infirmary. “Storage closet.”
“Thanks.”
I pick up the gun and hurry past the cots, fling open the door and flick on the light switch. Fluorescent bulbs buzz to life, illuminating shelves lined with boxes of medical equipment. The door swings shut, and I scan the small space, searching for any unmarked containers.
My brow furrows. “Where are the bullets?”
The click of a turning lock echoes through the tiny space, followed by another and another. Chills run down my spine, and my stomach plummets. I whirl around to the door and push it open, but it’s jammed.
“Cesare, what the fuck?” I snap.
“I’m sorry, love,” he says from the other side of the door. “You said it yourself. You can’t function in water.”
“Let me out,” I yell, my voice rising with panic.
“Gunther wants you dead, and I won’t let you sacrifice your life.”
I pound on the door. “That’s not your decision to make.”
“Miranda’s going to need her mother,” he replies, so calm and even that the words sound rehearsed. “By the time you break out, she’ll be waiting for you on the shore.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Let me out. You can’t handle Gunther. He might not even be alone.”
“When I bring Miranda, I want you to tell her the truth. About you… and me,” he says, his voice wavering.
My breath quickens, and the backs of my eyes sting with tears. I run my fingers over the seam of the door, trying to find a lock, a latch, a lever, but there’s nothing.
“Why are you talking like you won’t return?”
“She needs to know the truth. You’re not the villain who murdered her parents. You’re a mother willing to sell her soul to keep her safe.”
“Cesare.” My fingers curl into fists.
“I’ve finally found a way to make up for keeping you as a pet. And to show you how much I’m sorry. For everything.”
My heart pounds so hard that it splinters. “You idiot. I already forgave you.”
“It’s not enough. I love you so much that I would lay down my life to keep you safe. You and my sister,” he says, his voice breaking.
The words barely register through my fury. How could he do this to me after everything? How dare he lock me in a closet and go play hero? Rage sizzles through my veins, burning my heart to ashes.
“Stop it, Cesare. Open the fucking door!” My screams bounce off the walls, only to be met by silence.
Betrayal slices through my heart, letting it bleed liquid indignation. He’s not coming back. The bastard imprisoned me like I’m some sort of princess in a tower.
“If Gunther doesn’t kill you, I will,” I snarl.
The lights blink off, encasing me in darkness. I fumble around for the light switch, too blinded by anger to think straight. He can’t leave me here and go alone to snatch Miranda from Gunther’s claws.
Gunther might not be a practicing assassin, but he’s wily, experienced, and knows every trick in the killer’s playbook. Cesare is impulsive, with no self-control.
I lean my head against the door and exhale lungfuls of frustration, needing to think past my overwhelming outrage. Cesare has more layers than his recklessness. That manic psychopath is his outer facade. Behind it is a man who is clever, calculating, and ahead of his opponents.