Chapter 89

ROSALIND

I'm no stranger to explosives. We dabbled with them in the academy, and then I launched grenades into Matteo and his henchmen. Explosives are essential to getaways on large missions, but our job the next morning is different.

This is the first mission I'll be doing without Britt. Instead, Cesare will take the lead because his family won't trust me until we've ended the threat hanging over their heads.

Hours before the hostage swap, Cesare and I are in the armory with a group of his men. One of them is a skilled getaway driver named Carlo, who everyone assures me is the best.

As the other men load one truck full of explosives, we walk around another vehicle to check that all the modifications I ordered have been installed.

"What do you think?" Cesare asks, his fingers slipping into the high collar of his armor. "Does it pass inspection?"

"It should withstand the explosions if we can get out of the building in time." I run a gloved hand down the reinforced steel plating to the combat bumper we're going to use as a battering ram. "But I want everyone to wear full body armor."

Carlo scoffs. "I'm quick. I don't need it."

Cesare grabs the older man's shoulder. "When a highly trained assassin with over a decade of experience tells you to wear armor, you follow her fucking instructions."

My chest swells with warmth. I don't remember any man I've slept with demanding that another give me respect. Cesare is the first who has even acknowledged my skills.

Carlo glances up and down my body armor, his gaze now assessing. Ignoring him, I continue to the truck's interior, making last-minute suggestions to increase our chances of leaving the Moirai HQ with our lives.

The final modification we make to the armored truck is the addition of a black box from Dr. Daniel's ambulance. This will prevent the shutters at HQ from falling, ensuring a faster escape.

When the vehicle is ready, Cesare pulls me to one side. "I want you to stay behind."

Gazing up into his pale eyes, I place a palm on his chest. His heart beats fast, echoing my own anxiety and betraying his stoic mask.

"We already talked about this," I say, my voice soft. "Who's going to help you improvise if something goes wrong?"

His jaw clenches, and his nostrils flare with frustration. "I'll put on an earpiece. You can direct us from a mile away?—"

"HQ is surrounded by cell phone jammers," I say. "Their network is the only way of communicating within a half-mile radius of the building."

Scowling, he jerks his head to the side. "Don't you think you've risked enough?" In a much lower voice, he adds, "She's depending on you."

"Which is why I want to make sure we both get out of this in one piece," I murmur. "She's depending on you, too."

He turns back to me, his eyes softening. "What do you mean, love?"

"Are we ready to go?" Gil lumbers up to us, holding a chain attached to four of the shackled hostages, each shackled at their hands and feet with their heads covered in bags.

"Talk later," I say.

We board the truck we reinforced and direct Gil to seat the hostages by the double doors. The other six sit in a larger truck that contains enough explosives to reach the Moirai's middle levels. The mercury nitrovolucite Xero's people seeded around the building and the bottom floors will have to do the rest.

As we pull out of the warehouse, my phone buzzes. I reach into the pocket of my body armor to find a message from an unknown number.

Target found. St. Dismas Medical Center. Hamlet, New Jersey.

It's followed by a photo of Matteo lying in a white hospital bed, shot from outside the window.

My stomach churns at the sight of him lying there still drawing breath.

Cesare leans into my side. "What's wrong?"

I pass him the phone. "They've found him."

His nostrils flare, and his features twist with disgust. I can't blame him. Matteo brutally murdered his two exes, hoping to frame him before trying to do the same to Sofia. It's hard to imagine anyone being more despicable than him except for his brother, Tommaso, the pimp.

"Shit," he hisses. "We need to be there now, before he gets discharged."

I squeeze his hand. "We'll never get another chance to target the Moirai."

He breathes hard, his face flushing. The last time I saw him so furious was when one of his men shot me in the shoulder, and Gil had to stop him from shooting up the entire room.

"We'll handle Galliano later," I say.

He nods, too furious to form words. I also fall silent, trying to keep my mind far away from thoughts of my former stepfather.

Several minutes later, the truck stops behind the complex of buildings that make up the newly renamed Casino Montesano. From what I overheard, Roman stayed there overnight with Emberly, the woman he brought to the family dinner.

Benito won't come with us as he's only just taken back control of the business and is still weeding out people loyal to the man who framed Roman for murder.

"Put a bag over my head, so I look like the other hostages," I say to Cesare as he leaves to get his brother.

"You sure?"

I nod.

Although most operatives and support staff will be at the academy's graduation run, there will be a skeleton crew monitoring us as we approach HQ. We can't allow them to see me, sitting pretty among the Montesano brothers.

Everyone at the Moirai might act like I'm an incompetent screw up, but they'll soon remember why I was at the top of my classes and was the only graduate who was given solo missions. Everyone else had to serve at least a year as an analyst.

The bag does nothing to block my vision, but I close my eyes and focus on slowing my breath. Nothing has been left to chance, but I'm prepared in case anything goes wrong.

Several minutes later, Roman's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Can they hear us?"

"They're in sensory deprivation. All wearing earplugs and blindfolds," Cesare answers.

The brothers discuss the firms of assassins Roman has employed to track down the Galliano brothers, and I'm surprised when Cesare doesn't mention Xero's text. Roman talks about them like they're business rivals he needs to eliminate instead of a monster who married his mother.

But judging by the conversations I overheard about Tania and Allegra's murders, his family doesn't believe that Matteo would target people connected to Cesare. Outsiders think Matteo is the quieter brother, who gives the appearance of a kind uncle, while Tommaso is the raging psychopath.

Matteo probably targeted Cesare because he's the most vulnerable of the Montesano brothers. He's younger, volatile, unpredictable, and doesn't seem to command the same level of respect as Roman and Benito.

He's criminally underestimated.

Just like me.

"They know we're coming?" Roman asks.

"It's all arranged," Cesare replies.

"How do we know we're not driving into a trap?"

"It's not a trap if we're coming in with a Trojan horse."

"Explain this plan to me again," Roman says.

I tune out as Cesare tells his brother how the mercury nitrovolucite crystals will cause a chain of chemical reactions that will increase the range of the explosives below the tenth floor.

"And Leroi's little assassin?" Roman asks.

I hold my breath.

"You mean my little assassin," Cesare snaps.

"She's leaving with the others, right?" Roman growls.

"Of course," Cesare says, sounding suspiciously calm. "She'll soon be a dead little assassin."

My jaw clenches. What the hell is he saying? I would interrupt them, but there's a bag over my head, and I'm supposed to have on earmuffs. Cesare knows I can hear him, and he knows I can break free and save myself.

My mind races through the possibilities. Is Cesare bullshitting Roman? Because after everything we've gone through together, he can't really be planning my death.

Moments later, the air changes. It's a subtle shift that's barely noticeable unless you know what to look for. Status electricity crackles against my skin, and my nostrils fill with the faintest scent of ozone. We've just crossed the first of the demarcation lines surrounding the Moirai HQ.

I've driven through this patch of road so many times I recognize every bump in the road. There's a subtle incline in the tarmac, and the vehicle slows at the entrance of the building we were told to deliver the hostages.

It's one of the decoy structures close to our official entrance, where we accept the occasional delivery. A hidden elevator shaft lies within a locked room that grants access to all except the secret levels.

We continue again into the parking lot. I don't need the use of my eyes to know it's surrounded by armed operatives. They'll remain cordial until they've retrieved their personnel, then all hell will break loose.

"Roman Montesano. Release the hostages," Gunther's disembodied voice croaks a distant speaker.

I grind my teeth. He could be anywhere, from his office several floors below, to the top of the elevator shaft. Since today is a graduation run, he should be in an observation room full of screens, watching the young people he and his colleagues groomed into a future of deadly servitude.

It doesn't matter. The mercury nitrovolucite is already in place and Xero will have told his people to evacuate. All we need to do is escape.

A door creaks open. One of the operatives drove the truck filled with explosives into the building and has already released five of his colleagues. Everything Cesare and I planned for the handover is going as planned.

Now Gunther wants the other four in our truck.

My heart pounds, even though I'm ninety-nine percent certain Cesare won't toss me out with the others. The one percent accounts for Roman's interference.

I wait while the brothers haul out a pair of hostages and toss them on the floor. As they land with two thuds, I dig in my heels.

When an unfamiliar hand grabs my arm, my stomach lurches.

It's Roman.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I part my lips to scream, but the door slams shut, and Cesare drags me on his lap.

Bullets ricochet off the reinforced armor, and Carlo slams the truck in reverse. The rapid motion has me jerking to the side in Cesare's grip. By now, Gunther will have sealed the exits, enclosing us within the building.

I throw out a silent prayer to anyone listening that the reinforced bumper is enough. We're going to need that battering ram to work the first time to make a fast getaway.

There's a satisfying crunch of metal as the bumper plows through the barrier, and the wheels skid across the tarmac.

My heart soars, but it's too early to celebrate. If Cesare detonates the bomb too early, we're dead. Too late, and he's allowed the Moirai enough time to give chase.

The truck accelerates, the speed pushing us against our seats. My stomach lurches. What happens next will be the difference between escaping and being blown into pieces.

A slight change in atmosphere makes my ears pop, indicating we're out of the danger zone.

"Cesare," I say, my voice tense.

"Now," he yells.

A heartbeat later, a deafening explosion makes the ground rumble. The force of the blast has us lurching backward, then the wheels skid. I can't tell if we miscalculated the danger zone or Carlo lost control of the vehicle.

Cesare's grip tightens around my waist as we jerk from side to side. I no longer know where we're going. The ground is uneven, seeming to crumble beneath the wheels.

We must have collapsed an unexpected tunnel, which is why the truck won't stop floundering.

My throat closes, and I hurl my last hope toward the driver's seat, hoping Carlo can maneuver us out of the chaos. We jerk from side to side as he fights to regain control, then the wheels straighten, and the truck surges forward.

We did it. Not only did we destroy the Moirai's upper echelons, but all their data. They're gone, and I've freed myself, the academy students, and all the other operatives bound to a lifetime of servitude.

Cesare rips the sack off my head and kisses me on the mouth. He tastes of freedom, of victory, of triumph and relief. I kiss back, not caring that Roman is sitting opposite and still thinks I'm a threat.

Our next stop is ridding the world of Matteo Galliano and his scumbag brother.