She puts the apple core down on a napkin on the bedstand. “We should talk about Peter,” she says quietly. “And about the promise I made to him.”

I tense, my grip on her palm tightening. “What promise?”

“The list.” Her fingers twitch in my grasp. “The list of names you promised him for the three years of service. I told him I’d give it to him as soon as you had it—if he helped me rescue you.”

“Fuck.” I stare at her in disbelief. I had been wondering how she’d persuaded Peter to disobey a direct order, and here is my answer. “You promised you’d help him get revenge if he assisted you in that insanity?”

Nora nods, her eyes trained on mine. “Yes. It was the only thing I could think of at the time. He knew that if you died, he wouldn’t get the list at all—and I told him he’d get it earlier if he helped me.”

My eyebrows snap together as a wave of fury rolls through me. That Russian motherfucker put my wife in mortal danger, and that’s not something I can ever forgive or forget. He might’ve saved my life, but he had risked Nora’s in order to do it. If he hadn’t disappeared after carrying out the rescue, I would’ve killed him for that. And now Nora wants me to give him that list?

Not fucking likely.

“Julian, I promised him,” she insists, apparently sensing my unvoiced reply. Her gaze is filled with uncharacteristic determination as she adds, “I know you’re mad at him, but the whole plan was my idea—and he didn’t want to do it at first.”

“Right. Because he knew your safety should’ve been his top priority.” Realizing I’m still squeezing her palm, I release her hand and say harshly, “The bastard’s lucky he’s still alive.”

“I understand that.” Nora gives me a level look. “So does Peter, believe me. He knew you’d react like this—which is why he left after dropping us off here.”

I inhale, trying to hang on to my temper. “And good riddance to him. He knows I’ll never trust him now. I ordered him to keep you safe on the estate, and what did he do?” I glare at her as the memory of her getting dragged into that windowless room, bloodied and scared, scrapes at my brain. “He fucking hand-delivered you to Majid!”

“Yes, and by doing so, saved your life—”

“I don’t care about my fucking life!” I sit up all the way, ignoring the jolt of pain in my ribs. “Don’t you get it, Nora? You are the only person I care about. You—not me, not anyone else!”

She stares at me, and I see her large eyes beginning to glisten with moisture. “I know, Julian,” she whispers, blinking. “I know that.”

I look at her, and the anger drains out of me, replaced by an inexplicable need to make her understand. “I don’t know if you do, my pet.” My voice is quiet as I reach for her hand again, needing its fragile warmth. “You are everything to me. If something happened to you, I wouldn’t want to survive—I wouldn’t want a life that doesn’t have you in it.”