“Well, actually, they would love to have you for leverage over him. They could break him much faster if they had you as well.” Peter shakes his head, his expression regretful but determined. “I’m sorry, Nora, but you need to stay here. If we do end up rescuing your husband, he would be very displeased to learn that I allowed you to be in danger.”
I turn away, shaking, terror and frustration mingling together and feeding on each other until it feels like I will burst from it all. I feel helpless. Utterly and completely useless. When I had been taken, Julian came for me. He rescued me—but I can’t do the same for him.
I can’t even get off the estate.
“Nora . . .” It’s Rosa. I can feel her hand on my arm as I blindly stare out the window, my mind running through all the dead ends like a rat in a maze. “Nora, please . . . Come, let’s get you a bite to eat . . .”
I shake my head in curt denial and pull my arm away, keeping my gaze trained on the green lawn outside. There’s something nibbling at the edge of my brain, some errant, half-formed thought that I can’t quite grasp. It has to do with something Peter said, something he mentioned in passing . . . I hear him leaving the room, his footsteps quiet in the hallway, and suddenly it hits me.
Spinning around, I sprint after him, ignoring the shock on Rosa’s face as I push her out of the way. “Peter! Peter, wait!”
He stops in the hallway, giving me a cool look as I skid to a stop next to him. “What is it?”
“I know,” I gasp out. “Peter, I know exactly what to do. I know how to get Julian back.”
His expression doesn’t change. “What are you talking about?”
I draw in a gulping breath and begin to explain my plan, speaking so fast I’m tripping over the words. I can see him shaking his head as I speak, but I persist anyway, driven by a sense of urgency more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced. I need to convince Peter that I’m right. Julian’s life depends on it.
“No,” he says when I’m done. “This is insane. Julian would kill me—”
“But he might be alive to kill you,” I interrupt. “There’s no other option. You know that as well as I do.”
He shakes his head, and the look he gives me is genuinely regretful. “I’m sorry, Nora—”
“I will give you the list,” I blurt out, grasping at the only straw I can think of. “I will give you the list of names before your three years are up if you do this. Julian will hand it over as soon as he gets it into his hands.”
Peter stares at me, his expression changing for the first time. “You know about the list?” he asks, his voice pulsing with such anger that I have to fight the urge to step back. “The list Esguerra promised me?”
I nod. “I do.” Under any other circumstances, I would be terrified to provoke this man, but I’m beyond fear at the moment. A recklessness born of desperation drives me now, giving me uncharacteristic courage. “And I know that you won’t get it if Julian dies,” I continue, pressing my point. “All this time you’ve been working for him will be in vain. You’ll never be able to get revenge on the people who killed your family.”
His impassive look disappears completely, his face transforming into a mask of blazing fury. “You don’t know shit about my family,” he roars, and this time I do take a step back, my self-preservation instinct belatedly kicking in as I see his hands tightening into fists. “You fucking dare taunt me with them?”
He takes a step toward me as I back away, my heart hammering in my chest. Then, with a sharp, violent motion, he twists and punches the wall, his fist breaking through the drywall. I flinch, jumping back, and he punches the wall again, taking his rage out on it as he undoubtedly wants to do on me.
“Peter . . .” My voice is low and soothing, like I’m talking to a wild animal. I can see Rosa and Ana in the doorway, looking terrified, and I try to diffuse the situation. “Peter, I’m not taunting you—I’m just pointing out the facts. I want to help you, but first you need to help me.”
He glares at me, his chest heaving with rage, and I see him struggling to regain control. I’m shaking on the inside, but I keep my gaze steady on his face. Don’t show fear. Whatever you do, don’t show fear. To my intense relief, his breathing gradually begins to slow, the fury twisting his features ebbing as he brings himself back from whatever dark place his mind was in.
“I’m sorry,” he says after a few moments, his voice strained. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.” He takes one deep breath, then another, and I see his usual controlled mask sliding into place. “How do I know you’ll be able to keep your promise about the list?” he says in a more normal tone of voice, his anger seemingly gone. “You’re asking me to do something that Esguerra will hate. How do I know he’ll come through with the list if I do this?”
“I will make him give it to you.” I have no idea how I can make Julian do anything, but I don’t let any of my doubts show. “I swear to you, Peter. Help me with this, and you can have your revenge before your three years here are up.”
He stares at me, and I can practically feel his internal debate. He knows my arguments are sound. If he does what I ask, he stands a chance of getting that list of names sooner. If Julian dies, he won’t get the list at all.
“Fine,” he says, apparently reaching a decision. “Get ready then. We’re leaving in an hour.”
I turn away, shaking, terror and frustration mingling together and feeding on each other until it feels like I will burst from it all. I feel helpless. Utterly and completely useless. When I had been taken, Julian came for me. He rescued me—but I can’t do the same for him.
I can’t even get off the estate.
“Nora . . .” It’s Rosa. I can feel her hand on my arm as I blindly stare out the window, my mind running through all the dead ends like a rat in a maze. “Nora, please . . . Come, let’s get you a bite to eat . . .”
I shake my head in curt denial and pull my arm away, keeping my gaze trained on the green lawn outside. There’s something nibbling at the edge of my brain, some errant, half-formed thought that I can’t quite grasp. It has to do with something Peter said, something he mentioned in passing . . . I hear him leaving the room, his footsteps quiet in the hallway, and suddenly it hits me.
Spinning around, I sprint after him, ignoring the shock on Rosa’s face as I push her out of the way. “Peter! Peter, wait!”
He stops in the hallway, giving me a cool look as I skid to a stop next to him. “What is it?”
“I know,” I gasp out. “Peter, I know exactly what to do. I know how to get Julian back.”
His expression doesn’t change. “What are you talking about?”
I draw in a gulping breath and begin to explain my plan, speaking so fast I’m tripping over the words. I can see him shaking his head as I speak, but I persist anyway, driven by a sense of urgency more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced. I need to convince Peter that I’m right. Julian’s life depends on it.
“No,” he says when I’m done. “This is insane. Julian would kill me—”
“But he might be alive to kill you,” I interrupt. “There’s no other option. You know that as well as I do.”
He shakes his head, and the look he gives me is genuinely regretful. “I’m sorry, Nora—”
“I will give you the list,” I blurt out, grasping at the only straw I can think of. “I will give you the list of names before your three years are up if you do this. Julian will hand it over as soon as he gets it into his hands.”
Peter stares at me, his expression changing for the first time. “You know about the list?” he asks, his voice pulsing with such anger that I have to fight the urge to step back. “The list Esguerra promised me?”
I nod. “I do.” Under any other circumstances, I would be terrified to provoke this man, but I’m beyond fear at the moment. A recklessness born of desperation drives me now, giving me uncharacteristic courage. “And I know that you won’t get it if Julian dies,” I continue, pressing my point. “All this time you’ve been working for him will be in vain. You’ll never be able to get revenge on the people who killed your family.”
His impassive look disappears completely, his face transforming into a mask of blazing fury. “You don’t know shit about my family,” he roars, and this time I do take a step back, my self-preservation instinct belatedly kicking in as I see his hands tightening into fists. “You fucking dare taunt me with them?”
He takes a step toward me as I back away, my heart hammering in my chest. Then, with a sharp, violent motion, he twists and punches the wall, his fist breaking through the drywall. I flinch, jumping back, and he punches the wall again, taking his rage out on it as he undoubtedly wants to do on me.
“Peter . . .” My voice is low and soothing, like I’m talking to a wild animal. I can see Rosa and Ana in the doorway, looking terrified, and I try to diffuse the situation. “Peter, I’m not taunting you—I’m just pointing out the facts. I want to help you, but first you need to help me.”
He glares at me, his chest heaving with rage, and I see him struggling to regain control. I’m shaking on the inside, but I keep my gaze steady on his face. Don’t show fear. Whatever you do, don’t show fear. To my intense relief, his breathing gradually begins to slow, the fury twisting his features ebbing as he brings himself back from whatever dark place his mind was in.
“I’m sorry,” he says after a few moments, his voice strained. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.” He takes one deep breath, then another, and I see his usual controlled mask sliding into place. “How do I know you’ll be able to keep your promise about the list?” he says in a more normal tone of voice, his anger seemingly gone. “You’re asking me to do something that Esguerra will hate. How do I know he’ll come through with the list if I do this?”
“I will make him give it to you.” I have no idea how I can make Julian do anything, but I don’t let any of my doubts show. “I swear to you, Peter. Help me with this, and you can have your revenge before your three years here are up.”
He stares at me, and I can practically feel his internal debate. He knows my arguments are sound. If he does what I ask, he stands a chance of getting that list of names sooner. If Julian dies, he won’t get the list at all.
“Fine,” he says, apparently reaching a decision. “Get ready then. We’re leaving in an hour.”
