Chapter 78

ROSALIND

I wake up with a gasp, feeling like I've run a marathon. My throat burns, my heart races, my muscles scream with fatigue. Sunlight burns through my eyelids, giving me an idea of the time. It must be around noon or early afternoon, which means I've been unconscious for over five hours.

My eyelids flutter, but they're gummed shut. The last thing I remember was being abducted and under the influence of psychedelic drugs, followed by Dr. Daniel cutting through my clothes and?—

Pain slices through my chest, making me gasp. He captured Britt and ripped her body open with his sick experiments. Britt was supposed to have escaped the Moirai and left the country. She had an apartment in a suburb outside Geneva, ready for a new life overseas.

"Rosalind?" Cesare's deep voice cuts through my thoughts.

When I open my eyes again, he hovers above me, clad in a white shirt. I guess his black one probably ruined when he held Dr. Daniel while I pummeled the shit out of his carcass.

We're in a cream-colored room with windows lining its curved walls, providing a stomach-lurching view of the sea.

"Where are we?" I ask.

"The Bella Lucia," he says. "My dad's yacht."

"Is there any way to close the curtains?"

He glances over his shoulder and turns back to me with a frown. "You don't like the ocean?"

Suppressing a shudder, I focus all my attention on his face and reply. "It's not my favorite view."

Cesare straightens, reaches for a remote, and points it at the windows. A soft hum emanates from their direction, but I keep my gaze averted until the room is completely shaded.

He turns back to me, his eyes clouding with concern. "Want to talk about it?"

"Why I don't like the sea?" I ask back. "No."

"I'm asking about what happened this morning. Who is Dr. Daniel?"

"The Moirai's Chief Medical Officer."

He grimaces. "How the fuck did they find you?"

"With a tracker. Is he dead?"

"Alive," he murmurs. "Barely. After stabilizing you, I called for a clean-up crew to take him to one of the cells in the basement. I thought he would be more useful alive than dead."

I nod.

Grief seizes my lungs. "And Britt?"

"My cousins are taking care of her at Newtown Crematorium."

Pain hollows out my chest and travels to the back of my throat, making my eyes burn with tears. I can't believe she's dead. My breath hitches. Pressing my lips together to suppress a sob, I nod.

"Hey," he murmurs, his voice so soft it's barely audible. "I'm sorry. She was a good friend who didn't deserve such a terrible end."

A hysterical laugh bursts from my lips. "What's the difference between Dr. Daniel's experiments and what you do to your enemies in the basement?"

Gritting my teeth, I brace myself for Cesare to grab me by the throat and hiss something defensive. We all justify the heinous shit we do, thinking it makes us better than the other monsters, yet nobody wants to see the reflection in the mirror.

Instead of lashing out, he sits at my bedside and stares at me for several heartbeats. I shift on the mattress, wondering if I've pushed him too far.

"What?" I ask.

"How do you feel?"

I fidget, my mind trying to make sense of his odd behavior. Where are the accusations that I'm back in touch with the Moirai? Where are the demands for information? Keeping my features schooled, I glance toward the door. "I've had worse."

"Rosalind," he says with a sigh. "Do you need an STI panel?"

"No." I shake my head. "You got there before he could…"

I can't even say the word. The tight band of control I have over my emotions is hanging by a thread.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see his shoulders sag with relief. That's when I finally realize something between us has changed. He reaches to take my hand, then seems to think better of it and withdraws.

"When I found him standing there with his cock out, I thought the worst," he says, his voice rough.

I close my eyes and exhale. "There's nothing worse than realizing someone you care for has suffered an agonizing death. Britt was there for me from the beginning. I've known her since we were fourteen."

"When you joined the Moirai's academy?"

"We were at the same boarding school in New Jersey, when she introduced me to Gunther, who became our boss," I say. "As much as I hate the Moirai, I could never have gotten Miranda out of that house without their training."

We fall silent for several moments, and my mind drifts to Britt's last moments. How long did she spend with that psychotic doctor? Was it hours or days? The last time I saw her at the airport, she wasn't concerned about being followed. Maybe he caught up with her when they were abroad.

"What happened after he took you from the café?" he asks.

"It all happened so fast," I say, my gaze fixed on my lap. "He didn't share my whereabouts with the Moirai. What he wanted to do was purely for his entertainment."

"I'm sorry," he blurts.

My head snaps up, and I meet his piercing gaze. "What are you talking about?"

"For keeping you locked up like that and treating you like a plaything. For using Miranda and you as pawns. For everything."

"You already made things right," I say, not wanting to compound the horror of my captivity with Dr. Daniel by rehashing my time with Cesare.

"You can't forgive me so easily."

My lips tighten. "Sometimes forgiveness is about letting go of trauma so the victim can move forward. This isn't about you, alright?"

He breathes hard, looking like he wants to argue his point further. I'm still reeling from what happened to Britt. I can't cope with his outpouring of guilt.

"As long as you hold up your end of our bargain, we're even," I say.

"And then you'll leave me?"

There's no way in hell I'd answer that loaded question. If I tell him the truth, he'll switch up on me, and I don't have the mental bandwidth to endure that.

I turn to meet his gaze, his eyes flicker with emotion. The tough exterior he wears cracks for just a moment, revealing a rare glimpse of vulnerability. I see so much of the young man in the photo album and have to remind myself he's only twenty-four.

"Are you planning on keeping us against our will?" I ask.

"No," he says, as though the admission hurts. "If you want to go, I won't stop you."

"But you'll do everything you can to convince me to stay?" I ask.

He nods.

"Alright."

"Just... alright?" he asks, his brows knitted.

Scooting to the side, I pull back the sheets. "I mean alright, get under these sheets and make me forget I was nearly sliced open."

His eyes glimmer with hope and maybe a little skepticism. He still doesn't believe I don't want to slice open his throat after everything he's done, but sensory deprivation has made me crave his touch. He's also given me several things I've always desired. A relationship with my daughter, a way out of the Moirai, and his respect.

I reach out a hand and beckon him closer with my fingers. "If you want forgiveness, then you're going to come here and earn it."