Page 43 of Breaking Rosalind
A decade later, I’m doing their grunt work while they’re the ones getting all the accolades. All because of one side quest. Even if I knew going after Miranda would turn me into the Moirai Group’s indentured servant, I would still do it again. That doesn’t mean I should remain demoted until I die.
“Rosalind.” Britany grabs my arm and pulls me to one side. “They said you got promoted and moved overseas.”
I glance into Gunther’s office, where he’s deep in conversation with Axel, a tall blond asshole who always looks stunning in a black tactical suit that leaves little to the imagination.
My throat tightens, and my veins burn with resentment. I haven’t seen him since the Paris job, where we spent four months pretending to be a couple to get close to the target. When he failed the mission and ended up tortured to the brink of death, I rushed in with explosives to kill his target and dragged Axel’s broken body from the wreckage.
The bastard promised to transfer his bonus, but when we reached HQ, he changed his story. I thought he was different, but he was just one of the many people who pretended to like me until I was no longer of use.
I tear my gaze away from the backstabber. “Gunther said what?”
She drags me down the hallway, rounds a corner, and glances over her shoulder to make sure no one is looking. “He said,” she repeats in a lower voice. “That you went to the branch in Zurich to take a senior position.”
“That’s bullshit,” I hiss.
We duck into a stockroom lined with vending machines. I walk to the retina reader and lean into its blue light for a scan.
“First of all, I’m still on the Montesano job. Second, I got caught by the younger brother.”
Her breath catches. “Is that why you’re wearing a monitor and robe? Are you hurt?”
“Just a few cuts and scrapes.” I walk to the first machine and press a finger on the scanner to request a replacement phone. “One of them called the New Alderney Times to confirm my ID. Gunther knew I got caught, which must be why he told everyone I’d been transferred.”
She claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide. “Does that mean everyone else who got promoted overseas is captured or dead?”
“Probably,” I mutter. “It’s not like he sent a rescue team.”
“Fuck.” She leans against the wall, her gaze going distant.
Britt is no stranger to the firm’s double dealing. She was fined for helping me rescue Miranda, except she’s made enough kills to pay off her debt.
I took the blame for our little side quest and told Gunther I’d forced her to come along, so I got the brunt of the punishment. As much as I wanted to cover Britt’s fine, I couldn’t. Gunther relegated me to an indefinite ban from high-paying jobs and the humiliation of assisting remedial assassins.
The worst part is that I can’t quit until my balance reaches zero.
The display on the machine reads: Handset activated. Do you wish to deactivate previous handsets?
I tap YES on the screen and the display reads: Handset deactivated.
A brand-new phone drops down the chute. I pick it up and slide it into my pocket.
Then I order a general-purpose field kit containing a catsuit, hexylpentose and oxypentanol in vials and disposable syringes, plus a silenced pistol, and a knife.
After collecting my new supplies, the display reads: Balance -303,877.65. That’s not my bank balance. It’s how much I owe the firm.
“Fucking crooks,” I mutter.
Britt appears at my side and winces. “Let me transfer some funds to your account.”
“No.” I place a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve already given me the biggest gift ever. I won’t drag you into any more of my problems.”
Her gaze softens as she takes in my meaning. “Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
“I’ll speak to Gunther. He owes me for trying to cover up my capture.”
She gives me a hesitant nod, not believing that speaking with Gunther will make a difference. No matter how often I tell him to remove my demotion, he always finds an excuse to refuse. All because I continue to refuse his advances. Now, I finally have a way to call the man out on his bullshit.
“What are you doing for dinner?” she asks.