Nora grins again, likely picturing the same thing, but then her expression turns unexpectedly somber. “So did they already arrive?” she asks, and I hear a trace of hesitation in her voice. “The Al-Quadar men you’ve captured?”

“Yes.” I don’t bother to sugarcoat it. I don’t want to traumatize her by letting her see that side of my business, but I’m not going to hide its existence from her either. “I’ve begun interrogating them.”

She stares at me, her earlier excitement nowhere in sight. “Oh, I see.” Her eyes travel over my body, lingering on my clean clothes, and I’m glad that I took the precaution to shower and change earlier.

When she lifts her eyes to meet my gaze, there is a peculiar look on her face. “So did you learn anything useful?” she asks softly. “By interrogating them, I mean?”

“Yes, I did,” I say slowly. It surprises me that she’s curious about this, that she’s not acting as appalled as I would’ve expected. I know she hates Al-Quadar for what they did to Beth, but I still would’ve expected her to cringe at the thought of torture. A smile tugs at my lips as I wonder just how dark my pet is willing to go these days. “Do you want me to tell you about it?”

She surprises me again by nodding. “Yes,” she says quietly, holding my gaze. “Tell me, Julian. I want to know.”

13

Nora

I don’t know what demon prompted me to say that, and I hold my breath, waiting for Julian to laugh at me and refuse. He has never been keen on telling me much about his business, and though he has opened up to me since his return, I get the sense that he’s still trying to shield me from the uglier parts of his world.

To my shock, he doesn’t refuse or mock me in any way. Instead he offers me his hand. “All right, my pet,” he says, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips. “If you’d like to learn, come with me. I have some calls to make.”

My heart pounding, I tentatively put my hand in his and let him lead me down the stairs. As we walk toward the small building that serves as Julian’s office, I can’t help wondering if I’m making a mistake. Am I ready to give up the questionable comfort of ignorance and dive head first into the murky cesspool of Julian’s empire? Truthfully, I have no idea.

Yet I don’t stop, don’t tell Julian that I changed my mind… because I haven’t. Because deep inside, I know that burying my head in the sand changes nothing. My husband is a dangerous, powerful criminal, and my lack of knowledge about his activities doesn’t alter the fact that I’m dirty by association. By willingly going into his arms every night—by loving him despite everything he’s done—I am implicitly condoning his actions, and I’m not naïve enough to think otherwise. I might have started off as Julian’s victim, but I don’t know if I can claim that dubious distinction anymore. Syringe or not, I went with him knowing full well what he was and what kind of life I was signing up for.