Chapter 19

ROSALIND

Cesare Montesano has Miranda.

An onslaught of images flood my screen, each one more harrowing than the last.

My breath freezes, and my heart pounds hard enough to crack my ribs. My brow breaks out in a cold sweat and my palms become slick. Last time I was this terrified was before the c-section, when the doctor explained he would cut me open to extract my baby.

I stride to the nearest locker room, change into a tactical suit and requisition guns and knives and portable explosives. If Cesare wants me to meet him outside the Phoenix, then he's either torturing her inside or in one of the many downtown Montesano businesses.

The only question is which one?

I call his number, but it goes straight to voicemail.

"Cesare," I hiss into the speaker. "What the fuck are you doing to my sister? If you hurt her, I won't just make you suffer. I won't just kill your brothers. I will take days making them scream."

After kitting up, I jog to the exit that leads to the stairs, but my wrist cuff sets off the alarms.

Security staff at the door block my path. Their supervisor, a burly blond man with the same cold blue eyes as Axel, takes my wrist.

"You're not cleared to leave the building, operative," he says.

"This is an emergency," I reply, my voice tight with anxiety.

He waves a scanner over my wrist cuff and reads out the results. "Dr. Daniel wants you confined to HQ. If you want to leave, take it up with him."

"There's no time." I shove past the guard, only for two more to grab my arms and hold me in place. "Let go of me."

The supervisor sneers. "Keep your composure, operative, or you will be subdued."

My stomach lurches and the full implication of his words hits me like a punch to the solar plexus. If I get violent, I'll spend the next thirty-six hours under the influence of oxypentanol. That's time I can't afford to waste.

I glare at him and the guards holding me back. "Fine," I say, trying to hold back a scream. "Let go of me and I'll speak to the doctor."

The moment the guards release me, I take off in a sprint toward the infirmary, my pulse pounding in my ears. My academy training prepared me for being captured by an enemy, but I never thought an enemy would come after my daughter.

Screams echo through the hallways as I reach the infirmary, but it's nothing compared to the terror screaming through my heart. Cesare is the worst kind of psychopath. Everything to him is some kind of sexual game.

Painful knots form in my gut, making me whimper. He already has Miranda's head in a bear trap. What else is he doing to my little girl?

I find Dr. Daniel in the infirmary tending to an operative covered in blisters and burns. My throat clogs with the overwhelming stench of chemicals, but I force myself to keep going.

A medic steps in my path. "This section is closed to?—"

I shove him aside and keep going. "Doctor. You need to give me clearance to leave the premises."

Dr. Daniel turns to me with a frown. "You're out of medical garments and putting yourself at risk of infection."

"Clearance." I hold up my wrist cuff. "It's a matter of life and death."

He frowns and is about to say something when a hand lands on my shoulder.

"Rosalind, what's this I hear about you attacking the door staff?"

I whirl around and lock gazes with Gunther, my hackles rising. This is the same bastard who made sure to inform me he knew Miranda studied at the Tourgis Academy and implied he would do something to her if I failed my mission.

But can I afford not to tell him? Gunther might be the only person who can make the doctor lift my restrictions on leaving.

"Cesare Montesano has my sister."

His eyes widen. "What does he want?"

"Me in exchange for her."

"Any ideas where he's holding her?"

"Not sure. He wants me to meet him in the alley beside the Phoenix nightclub."

"Then she can't be too far away," he says with a decisive nod. "Stay here. I'll send a rescue team?—"

"Like you did with me?" I interrupt.

Face paling at the prospect of anyone learning his secret, his gaze darts around the infirmary, his features slackening with a combination of panic and paranoia. The nearest person to us is Dr. Daniel, who is too busy dealing with a patient's chemical burns to overhear my barb.

Gunther's features harden. "Threatening me won't save your sister. I've already given into your demands."

"It was a fair question. Don't expect me to swallow that bullshit about non-existent rescue teams," I say from between clenched teeth.

"How the hell did the Montesano brothers get hold of your sister? Did you bring her up during the interrogation?"

"Of course not," I snap. "Leroi Montesano must have had me followed."

He shakes his head, his features pinching with disapproval. "Sloppy."

Guilt tightens my chest, even though I know this line of conversation is a distraction. He wants to make me squirm in revenge for holding the firm's double dealing over his head. It's just like the squabbles we used to have about my demotion, which usually escalated until time ran out or he threatened me with disciplinary action.

"Dr. Daniel won't give me clearance to leave HQ," I say. "Can you override it?"

Gunther spreads his arms wide. "The Chief Medical Officer outranks a section supervisor. You'll have to convince him."

I turn back to where I last saw the doctor tending to the patient, but he's already gone.

Fuck.

Gunther leans against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. I don't need to look at him to see his beady eyes soaking in my panic. He's a creep who enjoys making me suffer. No amount of torture or humiliation will ever satisfy his unending need to compensate for his bruised ego.

When I can't find Dr. Daniel, I grab the nearest medic by the throat. "Where's your boss?"

His eyes widen. "What are you doing? Let go."

"Call the CMO."

He swallows hard. "He's probably gone to the dispensary."

I release the medic, storm past Gunther, and head to the room at the end of the infirmary. My supervisor follows at a distance, but I'm too riled up to pay him any attention.

The entrance to the dispensary is locked. Since I don't have the clearance to enter, I bang on it until Dr. Daniel steps out.

"What is it now?" he asks with a frown.

"Give me clearance to leave HQ. One of my targets has abducted a family member."

His lips pinch, and his brow furrows into a frown. "Your injuries?—"

"Don't mean a thing if my sister is harmed."

I pause, take a deep breath, and force myself to stay composed. Gunther hovers close, soaking in my torment. If I become any more agitated, one of them will put me on suspension. I need to think like an assassin, not an asshole. An idea slots into place, and I square my shoulders. It's time to hint at an indecent proposal.

"Dr. Daniel, if you let me go, I will submit to any medical procedure and any amount of bedrest." My throat tightens, and I say in a much lower voice. "I'll do anything you want."

His gaze travels down my tactical suit and turns assessing. A shudder runs down my spine, and I hold back a surge of revulsion. I have fucked much worse men for much less.

After what feels like an eternity, the doctor gives me a slow nod. "Alright. You have my clearance to leave, but you will return afterward for a full medical examination. Then you will… submit to a prolonged bed rest."

"Yes," I rasp, the tension around my chest loosening. "Thank you, sir."

He pulls out a device, taps a few buttons, and my wrist cuff lights up.

"Aren't you going to take it off?" I ask.

"No. This is to keep a record of your vital signs after you leave."

In other words, he wants to keep tabs on me in case I return to HQ and renege on our deal. He won't just be able to track my location. With one command, he can order me confined to the building until I fulfill my end of the bargain.

I'm too grateful to the slimy bastard to care. Without sparing Gunther a glance, I turn on my heel and jog out of the infirmary.

Now, more than ever, I resent the maze of hallways that make up our headquarters. I pick up my phone and check it for messages from Cesare, but there's nothing.

I try not to think of what that could mean. Try not to picture my precious little Miranda tied to a bondage chair and subjected to the worst kind of torture, but it's impossible. Cold-blooded men don't care about the virtue of innocent girls. I was eleven when Matteo married Mom and started making advances.

Memories of everything Cesare did to me rise to the surface, making me shiver. I sold myself to the Moira for the strength to protect Miranda. Now, she's in unimaginable danger. How the hell will she cope with such horrific trauma?

"Rosalind?"

Britt jogs to my side. "What happened to dinner? You were supposed to text when you finished with Gunther."

"The Montesanos have Miranda," I reply, my voice low.

Her features drop. "You sure?"

"Cesare sent photos." I hand her my phone.

Without breaking her stride, Britt scrolls through the pictures, her breath catching. "What are we going to do?"

We.

My heart fills to bursting. Britt is the only person who stuck by my side during my decade of probation, even to her own detriment. This is why I love her so much. She's ready to sacrifice her reputation on another rogue mission to save Miranda.

"He wants me back, so I'll do the swap."

She nods. "I'll be on a rooftop with a sniper?—"

"No." I grab her arm. "The client was very specific. He wants all three Montesano brothers killed at the same time, or he won't pay."

"But this is Miranda," she says in a much lower voice.

"If Gunther put me in ten years of purgatory for the misuse of company assets, what do you think he'll do if we screw up a paying mission?"

She stays silent because we both know the answer. It won't be just Gunther on our backs, but the entire group's leadership, including international HQ. They won't just kill us slowly, they'll take Miranda.

As we approach the exit, the guards from earlier straighten, expecting more trouble. Their leader's gaze drops to my wrist cuff, which would have been removed if Dr. Daniel had an ounce of integrity and wasn't such a creep.

When the cuff doesn't set off the alarm, the guards let us out into the bank of elevators that lead to the ground level.

Britt bows her head during the ride up. She's probably thinking of a way to rescue Miranda without killing Cesare or getting me captured.

I stare at her profile, my throat tightening. "Don't."

"What?" she asks.

"Whatever you're thinking won't work because it's not the same as last time. Last time, we had the element of surprise. Cesare knows I'm coming, and he suspects I won't arrive without backup."

"But we can still?—"

"No." My voice is firm. "We are not taking any chances with Miranda."

Britt looks away, her lips pursed.

"Britt?"

"Fine. I won't touch Cesare," she says with a weary sigh.

"But you'll be at the other side of the alley, ready to grab Miranda, bundle her into a vehicle, and speed her to a safe location."

"And leave you behind," she says, her voice flat.

"It's the only way," I reply. "I'll handle Cesare."

"What about his brothers?" she asks. "Or their mafia militia? Will you handle them too?"

I stare at the numbers increasing on the elevator display, not wanting to conjure up the image of what she's implying.

No amount of torture or degradation is too much to keep Miranda safe. I wouldn't just sacrifice my body to save my little girl, I would sacrifice my soul.

The elevator doors open, and we step out into the final vestibule before we reach the outside world. It's a white space with vents between the tiles known to blow poison to incapacitate intruders.

My gaze flicks to a ceiling equipped with motion sensors, cameras, and small openings for automatic weapons. What a pity the leaders of such a well-designed firm consider their employees to be disposable.

The doors open, and we step out into the ground floor parking lot, where Britt walks us to an SUV.

"Let me handle Cesare," I repeat for emphasis. "I need you to focus on making sure Miranda is safe."

Tremors vibrate down my spine. This is what it feels like to be the fictional hero who sacrifices themself to save the world. For once, I'm not the villain. I'm a mother who will go to any lengths to save her child.

I can only hope that I survive.