“Are you just going to shove the trackers in?” I ask Julian as he brings me into our bedroom. “With no anesthesia or anything?” My tone is deeply sarcastic, but I am genuinely wondering about that. I know my husband enjoys inflicting pain on me sometimes, so it’s not entirely out of the question that this will be some type of a sexual thing for him.

Julian’s jaw flexes as he lowers me to my feet. “No,” he says curtly, releasing me and stepping back. My eyes immediately stray to the door, but Julian is between me and the exit as he walks over to a small commode and rummages through the drawers. “I’ll make sure you don’t feel a thing.” And as I watch, he pulls out a small, very familiar-looking syringe.

My insides grow cold. I recognize that syringe—it’s the one he had in his pocket when he came back for me, the one he would’ve used on me if I hadn’t gone with him of my own volition.

“Is that how you drugged me when you stole me from the park?” My voice is even, betraying little of the fact that I’m crumbling inside. “What kind of drug is that?”

Julian sighs, looking inexplicably weary as he comes toward me. “It has a long, complicated name that I don’t remember off the top of my head—and yes, it’s what I used to bring you to the island. It’s one of the best drugs of its kind, with very few side effects.”

“Few side effects? How lovely.” Taking a step back, I cast a frantic glance around the room, looking for something I can use to defend myself. There’s nothing, though. Other than a jar of hand creme and a box of tissues on the bed stand, the room is immaculately neat, free of clutter. I keep backing away until my knees hit the bed, and then I know I have nowhere else to go.

I’m trapped.

“Nora…” Julian is less than a foot from me now, the syringe in his right hand. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Harder than it has to be? Is he fucking serious? A fresh spurt of fury gives me renewed strength. I throw myself on the bed and roll across it, hoping to make it to the other side so I can dash for the door. Before I get to the edge, however, Julian is on top of me, his muscular body pressing me into the mattress. With my face buried in the fluffy blanket, I can hardly breathe, but before I get a chance to panic, Julian shifts most of his weight off me, enabling me to turn my head to the side. As I suck in air, I feel him moving—he’s uncapping the syringe, I realize with an icy shudder—and I know I have only seconds before he drugs me again.

“Don’t do this, Julian.” The words come out in a desperate, broken plea. I know begging him is futile, but there is nothing else I can do at this point. My heart pounds heavily in my chest as I play my last card. “Please, if you care for me at all—if you love me—please don’t do this…”