Chapter 25

ROSALIND

The first thing I think of when I awaken is Miranda. If Britt managed to escape, my daughter will be safe and stashed away where no one will ever threaten her safety.

I still don't know what that twisted bastard did to my little girl. Her face was free of cuts or bruises, but who knows what damage he's done to her psyche?

A ghost of a headache pounds at my temples. It's the kind of pain that would slice through my nerves if it wasn't muffled by drugs.

He must have administered painkillers after sticking me with that second needle. But why?

Keeping my eyes closed, I slow my breathing and assess the state of my body before alerting anyone that I'm conscious.

The air is mostly stale with hints of chemicals and leather, and there's a weak fan blowing cool air against my skin. It tightens into goosebumps, telling me I'm still naked.

I turn my attention to my extremities. Each finger is attached to something rigid and metallic. From the way the digits stretch taut within their restraints, I'm guessing it's the BDSM version of a splint.

Heavy leather straps encase the rest of my body, starting with one holding my neck, another across my shoulders, and more at strategic points along my torso and legs.

The pressure of the restraints is a constant reminder that Cesare has adapted. Any chances of him underrating my abilities are slim, considering I'm completely immobilized.

"I know you're awake," says that loathsome voice. "Your blood pressure just spiked."

That's when I realize one of the bands around my upper arm is a cuff to measure my BP. It was bad enough that he strung me up in a meat van and forced me to get aroused enough to lubricate his cavity searches. Now, the sick bastard is monitoring my vital signs.

He threads his fingers through my hair and twists, and my eyes snap open.

Cesare looms over me in a dimly lit room, illuminated by a flickering lightbulb. I have no doubt it's there for dramatic effect.

Piercing blue eyes shine down on me like beacons of malice, contrasting with the shadows cast by his angular features. He looks disheveled, with his jaw covered in stubble and wavy strands of hair framing his face like tendrils of darkness.

Shivers run down my spine, and every fine hair on my body stands on end. I meet his gaze with indifference, refusing to show any signs of weakness.

"What did you do to Miranda?" I ask through clenched teeth.

He yanks my hair, jerking my head to the side. "I'm the one who asks the questions."

I swallow.

"What did you do while I was unconscious?" he asks.

"Remember that chance you had to interrogate me, and you wasted it by sticking a gag in my mouth?"

He sucks in his cheeks, his features twisting into a smirk. "Annoying as ever." After releasing his grip on my hair, he walks toward a table at the other side of the room. "Lucrezia will convince you to talk."

I seize the opportunity to take in my surroundings. We're in a replica of the pool house's playroom, with all the BDSM furniture. There's no sign of a window and the lack of circulating air suggests we're in a basement.

Six feet behind the table I'm strapped on is a security door with a biometric scanner. My only way out is to overpower Cesare and escape using his fingerprints or retina scan.

He returns with the curved knife and runs the flat edge over my breasts. "Lucrezia is aching to try Lingchi."

"Death by a thousand cuts," I say, forcing my voice to remain even. "That's unoriginal, even for you."

His grin falters, and I know I've struck a nerve.

"You carved your initials into my side boob, and I got that fixed. Take a look if you don't believe me."

His gaze doesn't flicker, telling me he already tore off the bandage and examined the healing wound.

"You misunderstand me," he says through clenched teeth. "Lucrezia wants to cut you piece by piece until all that's left is a torso I can fuck."

The weight of his words sink into my bones, leaving behind a sickening chill. Tension fills the playroom, and the air becomes too thick to enter my lungs. I know the difference between a promise and a threat. I also understand Cesare's brand of predator.

He enjoys the thrill of the chase and toying with his squirming prey. I need to convince him he'll lose interest the moment he starts chopping off body parts

"How will you hunt me if I don't have limbs?" My voice wavers, betraying a hint of anxiety.

I won't rest until I find out what he did to Miranda. I can't escape if I don't persuade Caesar to allow me to remain intact. Fretting over her fate will have to wait until I can secure my survival.

"There are places I can slice that won't affect your ability to run... Much."

"Labia sashimi is old news," I say with a shaky chuckle, "But you have my full consent to eat my pussy."

His eyes flash, and he bares his teeth. "That kind of attitude will get you killed."

"I could say the same to you," I reply.

He grabs my throat, sending tingles of anticipation down my spine. A surge of heat settles between my bound legs, igniting the flames of my arousal. His gaze bores into mine as he leans in so close that our noses touch.

"Have you forgotten," I rasp. "Breath play is my kink?"

"One of these days, I'll squeeze too hard."

"That will be a good day to die." I raise my head a fraction to bring our lips together.

He flinches, his lips twisting with contempt.

"I've been trained to withstand torture," I say. "All these implements on your racks are nothing but foreplay. If you want what's in my head, you'll tell me what you did to Miranda."

His eyes narrow. "You first."

"Fine," I say with a sigh. "After you drank the oxypentanol, I snuck out through the bathroom window and walked around the grounds. Now, tell me what I need to know."

"Not good enough," he snarls.

"I took photos."

"Of?"

"Windows, doors, gates, boundary walls, barbed wire, electric fence. I scoured the perimeter of the grounds, gathering anything I could find to paint a complete picture of your security."

His eyes narrow. "Why?"

"I already answered your question. Now it's time to answer mine."

He glares down at me, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. I hold his stare for a few heartbeats, letting him know I'm not scared.

Feigning boredom, I let my gaze travel down to the massive skull tattooed between his pectoral muscles. Huge wings border it on either side that stretch across to his shoulders.

Each arm is adorned with sleeves of tattooed skulls. The left is more ornate, mingling with crowns and jewels and roses, while the right reminds me of the piled bones in the catacombs beneath Beaumont City.

"See something you like?" he asks with a sneer.

"I'm not playing this game." I look him dead in the eye.

He scowls, but there's no snappy reply.

"How do I know you're not holding Miranda in another room?"

"She left with your friend," he snarls.

"Tell me exactly what happened yesterday," I say. "With proof."

A muscle in his jaw flexes, and the veins on his temples bulge. I hold my features into a tight mask, not giving him a single opening. The drugs have worn off, and my head is clear. I need to know what he did.

"Fine," he growls. "I picked her up outside her academy and told her I was your boyfriend. She took one look at my dazzling smile and jumped in my car."

I shake my head. "She wouldn't be so reckless. How the hell did you find her, anyway?"

"When you didn't come home, Miranda went looking for you at Leroi's apartment."

"How—"

"You were sloppy. Somehow, she found his address."

My mind races. I've been assigned to the Montesano case for months, using that time to hook up with their cousin, Leroi. I mentioned I was dating a man with that name, but gave no specifics.

"She didn't believe me at first, but when I showed her a photo of me and my cousin at the club, she was convinced I would take her to meet you."

Dread pools in my gut. "And where did you go?"

"I showed her the Phoenix, gave her something to eat, and we watched a movie."

My jaw drops.

"Then you groomed her into letting you put her into one of your contraptions," I say.

His body tenses, his shoulders rigid as though he's taken offense. I don't understand why, considering he stooped low enough to abduct a fourteen-year-old child from school.

"You want to speak to Miranda?" he asks, his lip curling with contempt.

I hesitate, wondering if this is a trick. If Britt got away, then Cesare won't be able to contact my daughter. Since I have nothing else to lose, I give him a nod.

"Then tell me the purpose of those photos," he says. "I want specifics. Who is coming to attack and when? How many? Tell me everything, and you can ask Miranda yourself what I did."

Adrenaline surges through my system, making my heart thrash like a caged beast. I don't have that information, but I can speculate. Even if I did, there's no guarantee he'll keep me alive long enough to escape.

This is a dangerous gamble, but I'm not without leverage. "I'll tell you everything you want to know," I say, my voice steady despite the fear pulsating through my veins. "But first, you need to prove that Miranda is safe."

His knife flies toward my face, its blade lodging into the cushioned table. I clench my teeth, my sinuses filling with the scent of fear and blood.

"Do you think you can make demands?" he snarls, his eyes burning with the flames of his fury. "You're in no position to negotiate."

"Prove to me that Miranda is safe." I enunciate every word, my courage rising with each frantic heartbeat.

Cesare turns on his heel and disappears through the door.

Something tells me it was a mistake to call his bluff.