Chapter 53

ROSALIND

I wake up with a jolt that hurls my heartbeat up to the state of panic. Rough hands pull at my bandages, leaving the coverings around my head.

A scream rips through my throat, but it's muffled by the gag. I thrash in the dark, but my limbs are held down by tight bands

This isn't Cesare's gentle touch. This man is angry, anxious, agitated. What the hell have the other assassins said about me?

My empty stomach churns, and my skin breaks out in a cold sweat. What if this isn't even Cesare? Cesare always frees my head first, never my body.

Cool metal slides against my flesh as I'm cut free, making it tighten into goosebumps. The man frees my arm and I lash out, hitting something hard.

He shoves me down onto the hard surface. I jerk my legs, but they're still held down by straps. When I curl my fingers, each digit feels encased in plaster.

The bandages around my head finally loosen, and he rips off the ear coverings, plunging me back into the world of sound.

He's breathing hard and heavy, as though seeing me flounder is exciting. Cesare always wanted to see me break, but the man unwrapping me could be anyone.

I make another muffled scream.

He reaches behind my head to unbuckle the gag and pulls it from my parched lips. I gasp for air, my tongue tasting of leather and rubber.

"Cesare?" I croak, my voice hoarse.

"Calm the fuck down." He tears off the blindfold.

Bright lights burn my eyes, and I blink several times until my vision adjusts. When I see a familiar outline, my chest loosens with relief, which gives way to despair.

It's Cesare, not some other man looking to sexually assault a helpless woman. What's more concerning, is that I'm happy to see him. It means my mind is slipping further into Stockholm syndrome.

If I'm not careful, I'll forget my identity and start seeing him as a savior rather than a captor. I might forget that he's put me through unspeakable amounts of horror and start seeing them as acts of love.

"Stop fighting me, Rosalind," he says.

I flinch at his use of my name. "What's happened?"

"You can't stay tied up like this," he mutters. "Too dangerous."

"What do you mean?" My gaze darts around the darkened room.

"No man gets to touch you but me."

My stomach lurches at the thought that another man could enter this part of the basement and subject me to worse. I stare up at Cesare, my heart sinking at the realization that he's now become my protector.

"I thought these dungeons were secure," I rasp.

"My brother thinks he can do a better job extracting information," he says, sounding urgent. "He's not like me. He hates women. If you don't speak, he won't show you mercy or leave you undamaged."

"B-Brother?" My mind jumps to Roman Montesano, who just spent five years in prison for the brutal murder of a woman.

"Give me something," he says, sounding urgent. "Or I won't be able to keep him away."

The lump in my throat throbs in sync with my rapid heartbeat. I've never seen Cesare look so desperate. He cares for me in his own twisted way. Or at least he cares about being the only man who gets to cause me pain.

I gulp. "What do you want to know?"

"How do we hurt the Moirai?"

My tongue darts out to lick my dry lips, and I buy time to work out how to take advantage of the crack in his facade. If he cares for me, even just a tiny bit, then I will leverage that to escape.

"I can tell, but I want a few things in exchange."

"Name them."

"You'll set me free."

He grabs a handful of my hair and jerks my head to the side. "Never."

"Then you'll help me hide Miranda and leave her the fuck alone," I yell.

He releases my hair, only to grab my chin and force our eyes to meet. "What is this fixation with taking her away from where she's comfortable?" he snarls. "Why are you determined to make that girl miserable?"

My breath quickens. I can't tell him the truth. It would be like handing him a loaded gun. "Why are you so obsessed with my sister?"

"You belong to me," he says with a hint of a smirk. "By extension, so does Miranda. Now, speak."

"They'll hurt her if I do."

"Who?"

"The Moirai," I snap. "My boss practically threatened her life. That's why we moved her to another state, and you've just brought her back to New Alderney, where she's vulnerable."

His brows pinch. "You should have said?—"

"When you were drugging me, torturing me, or when you had me gagged?" I scream. "Why would I confide in a grown man with twisted sexual tastes who enjoys spending time with a fourteen-year-old girl?"

He flinches, his nostrils flaring.

"Is that what you think of me?" he says, his voice chilling me to the bone.

"What else am I going to think? Miranda doesn't deserve to be around a man like you."

"Are you going to tell me how to take down the Moirai, or will I hand you over to my brother?"

"Miranda—"

"You don't get to use her as a bargaining chip," he snarls. "Not after making that accusation."

My breath quickens. I don't know if I've made her situation better or worse. "I want to tell you everything, but I need to know she'll be safe."

Ignoring me, he removes the bandages from my feet, then releases the strap on my legs, and lifts me off the table.

He carries me across the room and into a darkened hallway. I'm naked, save for a few scraps of bandages around my crotch and breasts, not to mention the wad of fabric encasing my fingers.

"Cesare?" My voice trembles.

"Since you're so eager to meet my brothers, you can join them for dinner."

"Wait!"

"Do you want the gag?"

"If you hadn't taken Miranda again, I would have given you that information." I whack him on the back with my covered fist.

He spanks my ass, sending a sting across my skin that travels straight to my clit. My jaw clenches at my body's inappropriate response. It's like that part of my anatomy isn't connected to my mind.

At the end of the hallway, he places his palm over a scanner and carries me through a door that opens into a darkened stairwell. As he ascends the steps, I memorize the route in case I ever get an opening.

"Where are you taking me?" My voice echoes off its stone walls.

He answers me with another spank that makes me stifle a groan. After days of sensory deprivation, any touch from this sick bastard ignites my nerves like fireworks.

"You're staying upstairs with me," he says, sounding gruff. "Where you'll be safe."

The declaration makes my spine stiffen. Is Cesare deluded, or does he think he's the lesser of evils compared to his brothers?

"What makes you think I'm safe with you?"

"I take care of my pets." He slaps my ass again, only this time, he rubs slow circles over my heated skin. "Benito isn't interested in making you feel good. He'd cut you into pieces even after you spilled everything. Roman would shoot you between the eyes."

"Cesare?" I whisper, my heart pounding, my words dying on my throat.

My mind is so scrambled, I don't know what to believe. Everything I thought I knew about this man is a blur. The only thought that burns true in my mind is my desire to keep Miranda safe.

He doesn't prompt me to continue and moves through what seems like a labyrinth of hallways and staircases. When we reach a bright stairwell with winding stairs, I wonder if he's taking me up to the tower I noticed when I was taking photos of the grounds.

At the top of the stairs, he asks, "Are you going to be a good girl for me, or will I have to keep you in chains?"

"I'll be good."

"Wrong answer." He smacks my ass again.

I jerk in his grip. "What the fuck was I supposed to say?"

"You're still unbroken. A good pet craves bondage."

"I'm not your anything, Cesare," I spit.

He pushes the door open and steps into a large white bedroom containing an iron four-poster with hooks running along its canopy rail. A huge X joins the posts making up the footboard, reminding me of the crosses he used to hang the other assassins.

Any other time, I would shudder at the thought of being chained to a bed, but this room is above ground, drenched in sunlight, with no lingering basement scent.

And beyond the bed is a set of French doors that lead to a balcony and a tree where I can make an escape.

"This is your bedroom?" I ask as he sets me down on my bare feet.

"It is now."

He clips a chain to a collar I didn't even notice was around my neck and leads me into a spacious marble bathroom with a large tub. It's already full, with steam rising from the water.

My eyes widen. "You want to give me a bath?"

"I already told you," he says, his voice sharp. "You're having dinner with my brothers."

Dinner.

Brothers.

Bath.

Old memories surface of lying still on tables with my naked body covered in sushi for the entertainment of predatory men.

This time, I won't be helpless.

This time, I'm ready to fight back.