As Rosa's menacing gaze cut into Armand, his cries instantly dropped to a low whimper. The man's bluster cooled considerably. She was almost disappointed in how soon he cracked under pressure. It hadn't taken much to convince him to betray his fellow accomplices. Apparently, their lives were only worth a fraction of his pinky finger.

He sang like a biddable bird, "Th-There are four of us total. Two are disguised as catering staff. The remaining two are with the cleaning crew."

"What do your friends look like?"

Armand described them in detail. Hair color. Eye color. Skin color. Age. Gender.

Amber eyes narrowed. "Anyone else I should know about?"

"Non."

"Are you all armed?"

"Oui."

Rosa scowled. Guns were always an inconvenience. Knowing that these fuckers would be capable of blowing out someone's brains—namely, hers—was a bit of a mood killer. Still scowling, she shoved her free hand into the man's pockets.

"What the hell!" the man protested as he tried to squirm away.

"Do not fucking move."

He froze obediently. "Sorry."

Rosa found his phone and yanked it out. "This must be confiscated in case you try to contact your friends. I hope you understand."

"You do not like to leave loose ends, do you?"

"Well, I cannot have you ratting me out, can I? Either give me your phone. Or I will remove your tongue along with your fingers. The choice is yours."

"The way you operate," he grumbled, "is kind of terrifying."

She smiled at his compliment. "Thank you. Now, tell me, what is your passcode?"

In reluctant tones, the man rattled off the digits. She inputted them one by one, and the phone unlocked. As Rosa scrolled through his messages, she took note of every promising detail that might help her cause. Details—including the last five people he'd been in texting and calling, the contents of their discusssions, and his name. She didn't find anything about Angelina, but the man's phone still proved to be a treasure trove of intel.

"You go by... Armand Percy?"

"Oui."

Rosa kept scrolling through his damning texts. "Looks like you and your friends have been planning to raise hell at this wedding for quite some time."

Armand taunted, "There is nothing you can do to stop us. Everyone who is meant to die today—will die."

A chill crept over her skin. "Are you referring to the Vitales?"

"Oui."

"What about the bride and groom?"

"They will burn in hell."
"Who else?"

"Massera and his men."

Rosa wasn't surprised to learn that Cristiano had landed himself on this particular hit list—the bastard possessed a talent for pissing people off—but her heart gave an extra heavy thud of fear, nonetheless. She was supposed to be focusing on Angelina. But this shit felt too critical to ignore. Somehow, Rosa needed to find a way to save everyone. Especially Cristiano. No one was allowed to put a bullet in her man. Except her, of course.

Rosa coughed. "How are you going to kill them?"

"Poison."

"How do I know you are not lying?"

He referred to the phone—his phone—clutched in her grasp, "You are holding the proof in your hands. Check my messages again."

She smiled. "I know. I already saw all of your texts. I was simply testing you."

"You bitch."

Rosa smacked the back of his head and continued with her interrogation, "What kind of poison?"
He whimpered, "Ricin."

Rosa rolled her eyes. How very typical. Personally, she would've gone with thallium. "Thank you for your cooperation. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go unfuck this situation."

"It is too late for you to intervene."

Rosa tensed slightly. "What do you mean?"

"Their drinks have already been compromised."

Rosa grew increasingly distressed as her thoughts raced back to the trays she'd personally served the guests. "Was there ricin in the champagne that was just brought out?"

Had she unknowingly murdered her own mon beau?

"Non, non, of course not," Armand mumbled. "We are not trying to kill all of the guests. Beverages were instructed to be hand-delivered to each target, individually, at opportune moments."

With her mood fraying at the seams, she grew distraught with urgency, demanding, "How many beverages have been distributed? And which targets actually drank them?"

"I do not know. It was my job to smuggle the poison on-site. The rest was not part of my assignment."

If Armand truly didn't know, he was useless at this point. Rosa struggled to contain her anxiety. Every second spent in his company was endangering everyone's lives. Maybe they'd already ingested the ricin. Or maybe not. Either way, Rosa needed to warn Mrs. Vitale so she could save herself and the others. If it was already in their systems, there was a chance that they could be saved with the proper medical treatments.

Putain de bordel de merde!

What if fate actually succeeded in stealing Cristiano from her today?

She'd already lost too much. She couldn't lose him, too. Rosa's heart clenched with a violent sort of desperation.

Non.

Non.

Non.

She wouldn't let that happen. Again, Mrs. Vitale's words haunted her. Never give your heart to a man unless he has fucking earned it. The bastard couldn't die without earning her love. Every wretched morsel of it. She was still waiting for him to fix everything that he fucked up between them.

He owed her that much, non?

Failing miserably to read the room, Armand proceeded to boast, "After today, there will no one standing in our wa—"

He yelped when she sank her blade two more millimeters into his flesh. Red trickled down his shoulder. Rosa countered sweetly, "Hush. I will let you in on a little secret. I vowed to the hostess that I would not make a mess today. So, please, do not make me splatter more of your blood all over her beautiful home."

"If you kill me," snarled Armand, "you will not leave this wedding alive. My boss will make sure of it. I assure you, no one survives his wrath. He is a force to be reckoned with."

She sighed in exasperation. "You keep bringing up this fucker. Why are you so obsessed with him?"

"That is because he is more frightening than the devil."

"Who is he, anyway?"

Feigning a look of boredom, Rosa held her breath as she waited for his reply. When Armand finally let the cat out of the bag, it felt almost anticlimactic when he revealed, "Julian Mesrine."

But of course.

The man looked as though he expected her to cower at the mention of Mesrine's name. He became crestfallen when she merely shrugged in response. Rosa wore the same unimpressed, irritated expression on her face. Deep down, though, she was on the brink of losing her shit.

Harry had been so fucking wrong, damn it.

The magnitude of this particular error made Rosa question his loyalties even though she'd trusted him for years.

Was Harry trying to get rid of her?

Rosa made a mental note to pay him a little visit with her trusty Beretta. Not anytime soon, though. She needed to survive this mess first. Rosa's calculating gaze fell onto Armand as she reassessed the playing field. If Mesrine was Armand's boss, she couldn't leave to warn Mrs. Vitale yet. She needed to grill Armand about Angelina. "I have one last question for you. It is a very important one, so do not waste my time."

"Euh, I think the blood loss is starting to make me feel a bit lighthea—"

"Shut up and man up. What do you know about the little girl that travels with Mesrine?"

"What... girl?"

"The one he calls Nijah even though her real name is Angelina."

"Oh. Her."

"Is she here today?"

"N-Non," the man responded hesitantly.

Her eyes bore into him.

Was Armand lying?

Unfortunately, Rosa couldn't tell. If today was meant to be a trap, there was no reason for Mesrine to bring Angelina if he already convinced Cristiano that she'd be at the wedding.

Looking at Armand with suspicion, she asked, "Then where is she?"

"Mesrine does not tell anyone about her location. It is one of his best-kept secrets. I think he might be housing her at a nearby hotel, though. Please do not kill m—"

Without letting him finish, Rosa used the butt of her switchblade strike to his temple with enough force to knock him out in one blow. If Armand didn't know Angelina's exact location, he was wasting her time. A second later, the man crumpled to the ground in an unconscious heap. 

"Much quicker than chloroform," Rosa hummed. "Fais de beaux rêves, Armand, et essayez de ne pas tacher le marbre."

Sweet dreams, Armand, and try not to stain the marble.

She pulled out her phone once more. Rosa promptly messaged Mrs. Vitale everything of significance that had transpired between Armand and her. The names on Mesrine's hit list. The identities of Mesrine's accomplices that had infiltrated the staff. The ricin laced in the drinks.

She wrote: One more thing.

Rosa glanced down at Armand. He was bleeding all over the tiles.

I left a small mess in your bathroom.

Rosa bent down to retrieve Armand's gun, pocketing it for her own use. Then, she stepped over his body and hurried out the door.

You might want to send someone to clean it up.

As Rosa rushed down the hallway, again and again, she prayed that her warnings weren't sent too late. She kept checking her phone.

Had the woman already arrived at death's door?

Mrs. Vitale had yet to reply.

What about Cristiano?

Nom de Dieu.

She simply wished to know if he was alright. More than anything, Rosa wanted to go to him. Just in case Mrs. Vitale was otherwise preoccupied, fighting for her own life. Even after the hell that Cristiano had put her through, Rosa was afraid that she'd fail to reach the bastard in time. Impossible choices needed to be made. She couldn't be everywhere at once. Rosa still needed to corner one of Mesrine's bodyguards and wrangle more information out of the fucker.

Ideally?

An address.

If Angelina was currently locked in some random hotel room as Armand suggested, Rosa needed to leave the Vitale's villa and go there instead. Her heart felt like it was being torn in too many directions. Logic wrestled with emotion as she debated blowing her cover as Eve Davies to contact Cristiano directly. Face to face. While his heart was still beating. Before Mesrine took him from her forever.

But where was she supposed to find him?

Earlier, Cristiano hadn't been with the other guests. Her legs kept moving, faster and faster, but the hallway felt fucking endless. She became frantic. Rosa passed by a study. Another bathroom. Then a coat closet. Every echo of her footsteps only fueled her anguish. Rosa knew she needed to make up her mind. The corridor was coming to an end.

Which way should she turn?

If Rosa took a left, she'd probably be able to find one of Mesrine's bodyguards among the guests. If she went to the right, she could continue exploring the villa, searching for Cristiano. Instinctively, her feet shuffled toward the right.

But, Dieu, who was she supposed to choo—

Something caught her eye. She nearly stumbled at the sight. A smear of red on the pristine white walls. It was shaped like a handprint.

The hell?

Right as she was about to turn the corner, the closet door swung open. She failed to see the bloodied hand that shot out behind her. Rosa felt someone's arm snake around her waist, yanking her into the closet. She gasped as the door slammed shut. Pitch black consumed the light. Solid, muscled heat enveloped Rosa's senses as she was crushed against her shadowy captor. His hand wrapped around her throat—tightly and possessively—as though daring her to run from him.

"Got you."

***

Dun-dun-dun!

Thoughts?

Feelings?

Predictions?

Follow me on Wattpad @uxecila or on Instagram @tafanwrites for more updates. Next chapter will be posted in one week on Friday, May 17, 2024. <3