Page 48 of Breaking Rosalind

I pick up the remote. “Want to watch a movie?”

“Only if it’s horror. I’m not allowed to watch anything violent.”

A smirk tugs at my lips. “Have you seen Saw?”

“Do you have it?” She bounces on her seat.

“It’s my fucking favorite.”

After switching channels, I order us more drinks and start the movie. Miranda scoots closer, already trembling.

My gaze drops to where she’s tucked beneath my arm. “I thought you liked horror.”

“But I also like being scared,” she replies with a smirk.

A laugh escapes my lips, and I squeeze her shoulder. “If it gets too much, we’ll turn it off.”

“It won’t.”

“Let’s see how brave you are, then.”

We spend the rest of the evening watching the movie and laughing when Miranda flinches at the jump scares. It’s the most fun I’ve had since that hellish week when Dad died, Roman got arrested, and Mom left us for Tommy Galliano.

I clench my fists, my mood souring at the mere thought of the Galliano brothers. The door opens, pushing me out of my thoughts. Allegra arrives to clear our plates and gives me the side-eye.

We used to fuck until I realized she was faking her interest in bondage and tried to downgrade us to vanilla. Ignoring her attempts to capture my attention, I order us chocolate brownies and ice cream for dessert.

I don’t react when Allegra returns with the dessert and brushes the back of my hand with her fingers. She will never compare to my Rosalind. Rosalind is my pet, my plaything, my pretty new pastime. I don’t need movies or music when I can break her apart, piece by beautiful piece.

Miranda sets upon her sweet treats like she hasn’t just eaten burgers and every side on the menu. “This is awesome,” she says through her mouthful. “I’ve never had brownies with white chocolate.”

“Hey, do you like pranks?” I ask during a lull.

“What sort of prank?”

“Something that will get her attention.”

Her eyes widen. “Sure.”

“I have a replica of the reverse bear trap in my office. Do you want to play a little trick on your sister?”

NINETEEN

ROSALIND

Cesare Montesano has Miranda.

An onslaught of images flood my screen, each one more harrowing than the last.

My breath freezes, and my heart pounds hard enough to crack my ribs. My brow breaks out in a cold sweat and my palms become slick. Last time I was this terrified was before the c-section, when the doctor explained he would cut me open to extract my baby.

I stride to the nearest locker room, change into a tactical suit and requisition guns and knives and portable explosives. If Cesare wants me to meet him outside the Phoenix, then he’s either torturing her inside or in one of the many downtown Montesano businesses.

The only question is which one?

I call his number, but it goes straight to voicemail.

“Cesare,” I hiss into the speaker. “What the fuck are you doing to my sister? If you hurt her, I won’t just make you suffer. I won’t just kill your brothers. I will take days making them scream.”

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