Chapter 83

ROSALIND

Cesare made me endure hours of edging, yet he's sullen after ten minutes of getting blue balls. It turns out that he needs fiction to climax. After he rubbed my clit to completion, I climbed off his cock, leaving him hard and throbbing.

Now, he's glaring at me over the most delicious dish of zucchini linguini. The chef he hijacked for the day has also made an entire cheesecake from cashew nuts, almonds, and coconut butter.

Cesare picks at his food, still pissed from being left hanging. Seeing him so uncomfortable is healing a part of me I didn't realize was broken. I've trained myself not to be a people pleaser, but this is the first time I've used a man's frustration for entertainment.

"Are you going to eat or just sit there, brooding?" I nod at the pesto-stuffed mushrooms he's left untouched.

He slides the plate across the table. "You have it."

I devour the mushrooms as though I hadn't already demolished my portion. Umami flavors explode on my tongue from the harmonic mix of tamari, garlic, and vegan cheese.

His eyes soften. "You like that?"

"Mmmm." I nod, still too ravenous to speak.

Maybe it's all the days I spent involuntarily fasting, but nothing hits better than sharing a scrumptious, highly nutritious, organic meal with my former captor.

"How's the spaghetti?" I ask.

He scoffs. "This will never be pasta."

"Alright," I say with a chuckle. "How is the spiralized zucchini?"

"You're enjoying it," he says, his words gruff. "That means I like it, too."

After eating, we leave the yacht with several takeout containers that I insisted on bringing along for a midnight snack. It's time to interrogate Dr. Daniel about how he found me and gather information about the Moirai's lower levels.

A full moon hangs low in the sky, partially shrouded by mist. It's hard to believe I spent an entire day on water without triggering my phobia, but Cesare has a way of commanding every ounce of my attention so that nothing else matters but him.

I'm dressed in a pair of black Balenciaga cargo pants with a matching hoodie that probably cost over a month's salary. The boutique must have altered the garments to my measurements because it fits better than the items I bought from the mall, and the fabric gliding against my skin feels like heaven.

Cesare's gaze lingers over my form as he drives us back to Alderney Hill. The slight tug at the corner of his lips betrays the pleasure he's taking in my more relaxed mood, and his eyes gleam with appreciation.

"Did I ever mention you're the strongest woman I've ever met?" he asks.

"Is that why you're so fixated on owning me?" I ask.

He reaches across the front seat and grabs my hand. His fingers are gentle, comforting, warm. "Not just strong, but beautiful. Sometimes, I look at you and I'm awestruck."

Any other time, I would pull away, not wanting to give Cesare the impression I plan on staying beyond the end of our deal. But his touch is the comfort I need after my harrowing morning.

"It's the training that's impressive," I mutter. "Not me."

"Not true." He pauses at the gates for the guards to let us through. "You forget that I've met three other Moirai-trained women. None of them compares to you."

My heart sinks at the reminder of Britt. Not so much at the operatives in the basement who allowed me to attack the guards alone, resulting in my getting shot. The moment they colluded with each other to blame me for orchestrating the hit on Roman, I lost any sense of giving a shit about their fates.

He parks outside the mansion's double doors, and we go straight to the basement. I expect my skin to crawl or break out in a sweat considering this is where I was held captive, but Cesare's presence beside me bolsters my strength.

After passing through a series of biometric security protected hallways, Cesare pauses at a door. "You don't have to go inside."

"If you think I'll find the sight of Dr. Daniel triggering?—"

"I know you can handle it," he says.

"Then what's the problem?"

"Do you really need that bastard spoiling your good mood?" he asks. "He knows he won't leave this basement alive. He could say anything to break your spirit."

The lining of my stomach flutters with nerves. I meet Cesare's concerned gaze and gulp. "He won't get the chance to taunt me about what he did to Britt."

Cesare nods. "Keep him focused on what you need to know."

I suck in a deep breath, thankful for the reminder. We covered interrogation techniques at the academy, but they skipped the part about handling grief and personal entanglements. Maybe they didn't expect us to form emotional attachments in such a competitive learning environment.

Cesare opens the door, and we step into a dark space. He places a hand on the small of my back as the room brightens with fluorescent lights.

Dr. Daniel hangs upside down on the external spokes of what I can only describe as a giant hamster wheel. He's spattered in blood and naked, save for a black ring at the base of what's left of his penis. The subtle rise and fall of his chest is the only sign that he's alive.

Outrage explodes from my heart, filling my veins with molten fury. I stride up to the man who tortured and mutilated my best friend.

"You don't get to sleep your way out of this." I punch him in the gut.

His body jolts, and the walls echo with a shocked moan.

"Better." Stepping back to get a better view of his face, I turn to Cesare. "Bring his head to eye level."

With a nod, Cesare pushes a lever on the metal contraption, making it rotate with several jerky clanks until Dr. Daniel hangs upright.

He glares at me through bruised and bloodshot eyes. The bridge of his nose bends to one side then the other, from where I slammed my head into his face, and his skin is still speckled with blood.

"You're going to answer some questions," I say, my voice eerily calm. "It's in your best interests to cooperate, or we'll keep you here in agony until you rot."

"The Moirai won't take kindly to you colluding with targets," he rasps.

"How would they react to knowing you're murdering operatives?"

His swollen face splits into a sickening grin. "What makes you think I'm acting without authorization?"

My breath catches, but I keep my face in a neutral mask. "What does that mean?"

"Gunther signed you over to me for medical research the moment you left the building. And when Britt failed to report to her new mission, Gunther gave me her, too."

Blood roars through my ears, and my insides twist with guilt. "What are you saying?"

"No operative leaves the Moirai," he says. "Nobody gets to retire, either."

"So, Gunther wrote her off?"

"She was spreading rumors. Rumors that started when you told her about the promotion plan," he replies, his gaze raking over me with a taunting flicker.

My stomach drops.

The cameras must have picked up the conversation we had when I escaped Cesare and discovered that Gunther told everyone I'd been promoted overseas.

"You got her killed," he says with a gurgling laugh.

Cesare pushes past me and sticks a metal object into the doctor's gut, making him roar with agony. "Cut the crap," he snarls. "The only people who got her killed were you. You and Gunther."

"S-Stop," Dr. Daniel gasps, his face contorting in pain as he tries to squirm away from what looks to be a prod, but it's firmly embedded in his gut.

I grip his chin. "Answer my questions, or my friend here will infuse you with five-thousand volts of electricity. You might have been trained to endure pain, but no human body can survive cooked organs."

The doctor shudders. I have no idea if Cesare's cattle prod is that strong, but neither does this bastard.

"What do you want to know?" Dr. Daniel asks through gritted teeth.

"Where's the tracker?" I ask.

His gaze drops to my belly. "Inside your cesarean scar."

My jaw clenches. Of course, he would assume the scar wasn't from a hysterectomy. He's the man who administers my birth control shots.

"Are there any more of your trackers in my body?" I ask.

He shakes his head.

"What's its range?" I ask.

"Mainland United States of America," he says.

"What about Canada, Mexico, and all the surrounding islands?" I ask, disguising my question to protect Miranda's location.

He shakes his head. "They don't work, which is why we make sure our operatives wear devices that use satellite GPS and cellular triangulation and Wi-Fi."

Relief loosens my chest, and I exhale. This lines up to what he said earlier about my location vanishing at the airport. The sensation doesn't last long as my thoughts shift to my best friend.

Swallowing back a lump in my throat, I ask, "How did you find Britt?"

"She was sneaking about the lower levels of the mall," he rasps. "I can only assume she was trying to make contact with you."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. She was supposed to leave the country, but must have stayed behind out of worry. When he shot her with a tranquilizer gun, there was no one to rush to her rescue.

Cesare places a hand on the small of my back. I turn to meet pale eyes that shine with worry, and I give him a reassuring nod.

"Who else has access to the GPS trackers?"

"Senior management," he croaks. "Gunther, Henry, Marlena, Major Kline, and the director."

"What's beneath level ten?" I ask.

"Nothing," he says. "Just a data bank."

"The data center is on level eight."

He shakes his head. "You don't understand. Levels eleven to thirteen are where we keep the artificial intelligence servers."

I already guessed that they kept enough data on operatives to create digital avatars of us after our deaths. No one would doubt that an operative moved overseas when they were available for telephone conversation or video chats.

My phone buzzes. I pull it out and check the screen, only to find a message from an unknown caller that says: Midnight in Paris.

Looks like Xero wants to meet us tonight at the Parisii Cemetery.

When I nudge Cesare and show him the message, he asks the doctor, "What do you know about Xero?"

The doctor's lip curls. "That terrorist?"

"You know him?"

"He's an anarchist who wants to destroy all kinds of organized crime. If you ever get the chance, kill him."

I roll my eyes at the exaggeration. The only organization Xero wants to destabilize is the Moirai. If we can convince him to let us use his network of contacts, it will only be a matter of time before we catch up with Matteo.

But until then, I'll keep this old bastard alive.