Page 42 of Breaking Rosalind
“Let’s go!” She jogs to the Lamborghini.
Chuckling, I open the passenger side door, letting her scamper inside. Once we’re both settled in, I turn the key, and the engine rumbles.
Miranda bounces in her seat, her gaze taking in the illuminated dashboard and leather interior. Gasping, she says, “This is so cool!”
My chest inflates with pride. “Buckle up, sweetheart, it’s going to be a wild ride.”
Miranda squeals and fastens her seatbelt. “I’m ready.”
As I pull out of the parking spot and drive past the gawking kids, she turns to meet their stares and gives them the middle finger.
Snickering, I activate the central locking and turn up the music.
What a cute kid.
It’s almost a pity that I plan on breaking her sister.
SEVENTEEN
ROSALIND
Hours later, I hobble into Moirai HQ. My ears ring, I’m covered in soot, reeking of exhaust fumes, and tracking black footprints across its pristine white interior. Somewhere in the recesses of my memory, I’m sure I’ve forgotten something, but my mind is too frazzled to care.
My entire body is fucked... literally, but I had to get away from Cesare.
The medics rush me to the infirmary, where I’m forced to decontaminate before anyone will assess my injuries. After a bio scan that determines I’m not carrying tracking devices, I’m put on a cocktail of intravenous painkillers, antibiotics, and nutrients to replenish my energy.
A team of physicians surround my cot, healing the cuts, bruises, and the burns inflicted from stowing away in the truck’s undercarriage.
I’ll need to return in a few days after the initials Cesare carved into my breast heal, so they can complete the tissue regeneration and laser resurfacing to remove the scars.
The Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Daniel, approaches with a tablet. “You have a mild concussion, two broken ribs, and multiple lacerations. We’re going to keep you under observation for forty-eight hours.”
“Can I at least leave the infirmary?”
He snaps a bracelet around my wrist. “Certainly. Any change to your vital signs and the monitor will summon you back to the medical wing.”
“Thanks.” I rise off the cot.
“One more thing, Rosalind. Gunther hasn’t approved the charge of your treatment to his budget, so I’m going to add it to your tab.”
My stomach plummets into the hard floor, bringing up a wave of nausea. It’s taken ten years to make a dent in the amount I owe the firm for the damaged equipment. I can’t add to those debts.
“B-But I completed my mission,” I stammer. “All the information Gunther wanted is?—”
“Take it up with your supervisor.” Dr. Daniel raises a hand.
My jaw tightens. “Don’t worry. I will.”
Minutes later, I walk through the maze of hallways that lead to Gunther’s office. A few other operatives cast me wary glances as I stride past, but I’m too furious to meet their gazes.
Gunther is determined to keep me in debt bondage. If he’d authorized me to kill Cesare, all my expenses would be paid, plus I’d get a six-figure bonus to help pay off my debts.
I reach his door, where a team of my colleagues stream out, each of them giving me a double take.
“What?” I snap.
They smirk, like I’m a joke. I came first in all the theoretical exams and graduated at the top of our class. I was the first among us to get a solo mission, while they were all supporting other assassins or stuck in HQ gathering intel.