Rosa

Chapter 17

Her pulse raced.

Her breaths quickened.

Inside the bathroom, Rosa tried not to hyperventilate as she waited for the two men to finish their conversation.

"Avez-vous entendu parler de Lavigne?"

Did you hear about Lavigne?

"Ah, oui. Pauvre connard. Qu'il repose en paix."

Ah, yes. Poor fucker. May he rest in peace.

Rosa remained, frozen, in her hiding spot. Her legs felt weak and wobbly, though, like they might give out any second. She didn't dare look at the men as they continued to chat. For fear that they might sense her presence. For fear that she might actually find herself staring straight into the pale blue eyes of the monster who frightened her more than anything else in the world.

The second man muttered, "Les De León sont finis. Même la seule fille survivante d'Aberto ne veut rien avoir à faire avec son propre clan. Le nouveau chef du clan Berlusconi est un idiot, et l'héritier de Moretti est en prison."

The De León's are done. Not even Aberto's only surviving daughter wants anything to do with her own clan. The new head of the Berlusconi clan is an idiot, and Moretti's heir is in prison.

The first man replied in a low, worried mumble, "Cela ressemble à une tempête parfaite pour la guerre."

Sounds like a perfect storm for war.

Scoffing, the second man retorted, "Ou... une opportunité parfaite pour une prise de pouvoir."

Or... a perfect opportunity for a power grab.

Rosa could barely process what they were talking about. As the men rambled on and on, unaware of her presence, her mind began to inch towards worst case scenarios.

God, what if one of them needed to take a piss?

If either man came into the bathroom right now, the shower would be the best place for her to hide, but, at present, Rosa was too scared to move, to make a sound, and risk drawing unwanted attention to herself.

Her anxiety began to spiral out of control as she tried to talk herself through some rosier outcomes.

Perhaps, she would get lucky?

Perhaps, they would head out again without even noticing her presence?

Or, perhaps, hell would freeze over.

With two against one, the element of surprise was her only advantage against them.

Rosa gripped her gun with, taut and tight, in her hand. A choice needed to be made.

Should she, hoping for the best, stay put and wait it out?

Or should she, anticipating the worst, make a run for the door?

Would she even make it out alive today?

Rosa didn't know. She simply didn't know. Perhaps, today was the day she would finally meet her maker. Her head was turning into a fucking mess because of the second man. The man who might be Mesrine.

Rosa suddenly felt a perverse, crazed urge to laugh. God had such a sick sense of humor. To send this fucker back to her when she least expected it. To let him occupy the same space as her again. To let him breathe the same air as her again.

Every fiber of Rosa's being wished to get as far away from Mesrine as possible.

Rosa, the real Rosa, would still be alive if not for him.