"No sedative today?"

Judge cocks his head to the side and shrugs. "Not as long as you don't get ahead of yourself again."

"Tell me everything," I rasp. "I need to know."

He studies me for a moment, trying to determine something for himself. "I will tell you as long as you give me your word that you will stay here until you are given the all clear from Dr. Rosseau. I'm getting rather tired of sedating you."

"You have my word." I meet his gaze so there can be no misunderstanding about my intent.

There is no question I want to leave this place, but he is right, and I can see that now. It would only give Ivy more pleasure to allow her to see me in such a state. To allow her for one second to think she had truly hurt me. As if she could ever possess that power.

"What is the last thing you remember?" Judge asks.

"Ivy kissed me at the gala, and then I collapsed," I answer coldly.

He nods, folding his hands across his lap as he considers where to begin. "You were very lucky Dr. Rosseau was in attendance that evening. He heard the commotion when the paramedics were wheeling you away, and he rode to the hospital with you. When he'd heard what happened, he began decontamination right away. They stripped you down, and he cleaned your skin, examining the traces of lipstick. He said it was oily, which, amongst your other symptoms, indicated something quite unexpected."

"What was it?" I ask.

"A chemical nerve agent that has been used in several high-profile assassinations."

"A nerve agent?" I ask incredulously.

It doesn't sound right. How could Ivy possibly get her hands on a nerve agent?

"It's been banned in the US for decades, and by all accounts, the military stockpile destroyed. But like most things, it can be purchased on the black market. It's capable of being delivered as a gas or, in your case, dermally. An innocent touch can be deadly to the recipient since it is rarely tested for unless it is suspected. Fortunately, Dr. Rosseau followed his instincts within moments of your arrival at the hospital, by which time you had already been resuscitated twice. He gave you an atropine injection and an anticonvulsant, and they were able to get your breathing regulated."

Judge's voice becomes uncharacteristically quiet as he dips his head. "You barely scraped through this time, Santiago. If it wasn't for his immediate presence, I have no doubt we'd be planning your funeral. In fact, I was quite certain of it."