Chapter 21

ROSALIND

I lean forward in the front seat of the car, my stomach twisting into painful knots. If this traffic doesn't clear, then everything I sacrificed for Miranda will go to ruin. I didn't save her from one predator so she could end up in the clutches of another.

Britt reaches across and squeezes my shoulder. "I don't like this plan."

"What choice do I have?" I ask, my voice tight.

"But exchanging yourself for him?—"

"Britt." I clench my teeth. "Please."

She sighs. "Alright, alright. The moment I get Miranda, I'll exit the alley and drive straight to you-know-where. The part of the plan I'm struggling with is where you say you'll join us, but won't tell me how you'll escape."

"Don't worry about me. I'll find an opening."

"The Montesano brothers will be prepared for you this time," she says. "That's why your best chance of coming out of this alive is if I follow?—"

My throat tightens. I turn to glare at my best friend. "Drop it. I'm not risking the most precious people in my life."

Britt stares straight ahead, her jaw tense. She's the firm's best getaway driver and could probably extract me out of the alley with Miranda, but she's already done too much for us. I won't risk her life.

She's going to take Miranda straight to the out-of-state apartment we've set up as a place to escape the Moirai. The academy has been compromised. Both Cesare and Gunther know about it, so we'll have to keep her out of sight until I can find a new boarding school.

"Fine," she replies with a sigh. "At least make sure you're equipped for an escape."

I gulp. "He'll search me."

"Not everywhere." She reaches across to the glove box, revealing a black container resembling a glasses case.

I take it out and snap it open to find a selection of syringes. "What are these?"

"The latest in microscopic trackers. It's in the beta phase and hasn't been fully tested in the field. Slip one beneath some scar tissue. If he's that observant, he won't notice the needle prick or any minor swelling. I'll be able to track your location to an accuracy of three feet."

My breath hitches, and for the first time since obtaining those tortuous images from Cesare, I feel hope.

Thanks to Dr. Daniel and his team's laser skin resurfacing techniques, my scars are very few and none of them are raised. I wait until we reach a stoplight before opening my jumpsuit and injecting the tracker into my belly button.

"Good choice," Britt says. "He'll suspect you'll sneak in weapons and trackers, so you'll need some decoys."

"Already ahead of you."

After dabbing the liquid with a swab, I place the syringe back in the container. Then my gaze lands on a round object the size of a penny.

"Can I use that?" I ask.

Britt flashes me a grin. "As a distraction? Sure."

Over the next ten minutes, I work on creating several decoys, including a small cache of drug canisters I place in a latex condom and slip into my vagina.

Any other time, Britt would snort and joke about my hiding places, but she's seen the photos. Cesare Montesano is the kind of monster that would threaten an innocent girl with a contraption that could rip open her head.

"If the consequences for killing him without authorization weren't so dire, that bastard would already be dead," I mutter.

"Some clients are so picky." Britt rounds the corner to the high street. "They don't realize how difficult it is to get all three targets into the same location to execute a triple hit."

"Did he authorize collateral damage?" I ask.

"No," she says, her voice dripping with contempt. "He wants the lackeys intact."

All the stores are closed at this time of the evening, and it's too early for the party crowd to fill the streets. Up ahead, the Phoenix Nightclub is lit up in neon, its entrance devoid of guards.

Britt parks on the other side of the road. "We're here. You ready?"

I force in a deep breath. "Check the tracker."

She glances down at her smartwatch and swipes at the screen. "It's active. You're good to go."

Gulping, I send a text to Cesare to let him know I'm close.

Cesare texts back:

Meet us in the alley. Alone.

"No, fucking way," I mutter.

"What?"

"He wants me to go alone."

Her gaze hardens. "But not on foot. Let's swap places, and I'll slip out of sight."

"And as soon as Miranda gets into the car?—"

"I'll reverse out and won't stop driving until I'm one thousand percent certain we're not being followed."

Warm gratitude floods my heart and spreads across my chest. "Thank you," I say, my words choked. "I couldn't ask for a better friend."

"Just promise me you'll find a way out," she says, staring straight ahead.

She's still annoyed I didn't take up her offer to get us both out of the alley. If we were dealing with any other hostage, I would take the risk, but Miranda is untrained, untested, and untainted by the world of crime and death.

After shuffling to switch places, I take the steering wheel and continue down the road. Sweat beads across my brow, and my heart pounds hard enough to rattle my bones.

"I haven't been this nervous since the last time I had to rescue her," I say.

"If things get desperate, say the word and I'll burn those abductors to ashes," Britt replies from where she's tucked between the dashboard and the front passenger seat.

A shaky laugh escapes my chest, and I make a right turn. "Then all three of us will be on the run."

There's a truck parked ahead of us, blocking one end of the dim alley. The only source of illumination comes from a faint light above the nightclub's side exit.

My fingers grip the steering wheel as I wait for movement, but after a minute, I pick up my phone and send a message:

I'm here.

Seconds later, a police car rolls in behind us, its headlights filling the alley with light.

"Shit," I hiss.

"What?" she whispers.

"We're blocked on both sides."

"Don't worry about it."

My stomach lurches. I'm already picturing how I had to use a rocket launcher to escape the last time we were blocked in. Ten years of being relegated to analyst work flashes before my eyes, and I shudder.

It's not like we have any other choice.

The truck's back door rolls up, revealing a figure in black armor and a helmet standing with his arm around Miranda's narrow shoulders. My heart skips as though someone has infused me with a thousand volts of electricity.

Her academy uniform is in disarray, its white shirt marred with red stains. She looks more bewildered than hurt, her wrists bound with her school tie, and her eyes darting from side to side. Despite being subjected to torture, I don't see any visible injuries, but the worst of her trauma will be on the inside.

The man in armor leans his head to her ear and says something that makes her nod. He turns his attention to me and beckons with a gloved hand.

"Remember to get the hell out," I whisper.

"Go," Britt whispers back.

I open the car door and walk through the alley on shaky legs, fixing my gaze on Miranda. My hands curl into fists. What the hell did Cesare do to my little girl? Her shoulders are tight, and her entire body trembles as she takes quick, shallow breaths. She holds her features in a tight mask as though trying to contain her emotions.

As I approach, the man kicks down a set of steps and stands aside with Miranda tucked tightly beneath his arm.

"Climb up," he orders, his voice muffled through the helmet.

"Let her down, first."

He barks a laugh, his free hand hovering over the gun on his belt. "I call the shots. Move."

My jaw tightens. That little act of rebellion almost got Miranda hurt. With a deep breath, I climb the steps and enter the truck.

"Are you alright, Miri?" I ask.

Her features flicker with the strangest expression before the man releases her from his grip, and she jumps down and bolts.

I whirl around, trying to check that she's safe, but the man yanks me further into the truck, and the doors slam shut.

"Let go of me?—"

A needle stabs into the side of my neck, making me flinch. I elbow the man in his armor, making him slam my body against the wall.

"Welcome back, pet," the voice says through the helmet. "We're going to have so much fun together. This time, there will be no escape."