I have something more important to discuss with him.

As soon as Ana leaves the room, I put my fork down and look at my husband. “I got another message,” I say quietly.

Julian’s jaw tightens. “I know.”

“You’re monitoring my email now?” My stomach roils again, this time with a mix of nausea and anger. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, given the trackers still implanted in my body, but something about this casual invasion of privacy really upsets me.

“Of course.” He doesn’t look the least bit apologetic or remorseful. “I figured he might contact you again.”

I inhale slowly, reminding myself that arguing about this is futile. “Then you know Peter won’t leave us alone until you give him that list,” I say, as calmly as I can manage. “Somehow he knows that you got it from Frank last week. His message said, ‘It’s time to remember your promise.’ He won’t go away, Julian.”

“If he keeps harassing you via email, I’ll make sure he goes away for good.” Julian’s tone hardens. “He knows better than to try to get to me through you.”

“He saved your life and my life,” I remind him for the dozenth time. “I know you’re mad that he disobeyed your orders, but if he hadn’t, you’d be dead.”

“And you wouldn’t be having these nightmares and panic attacks.” Julian’s sensuous lips flatten. “It’s been six weeks, Nora, and you haven’t gotten any better. You barely sleep, hardly eat, and I can’t remember the last time you went for a run. He should’ve never put you in that kind of danger—”

“He did what was necessary!” Slapping my palms on the table, I rise to my feet, no longer able to sit still. “You think I’d be feeling better if you died? You think I wouldn’t have nightmares if Majid mailed us your body in pieces? My fucked-up head is not Peter’s fault, so stop blaming him for this mess! I promised him that list, and I want to give it to him!” By the time I get to the last sentence, I’m full-on yelling, too angry to care about Julian’s temper.

He stares at me, his eyes narrowed. “Sit down, Nora.” His voice is dangerously soft. “Now.”

“Or what?” I challenge, feeling uncharacteristically reckless. “Or what, Julian?”

“Do you really want to go there, my pet?” he asks in that same soft tone. When I don’t respond, he points at my chair. “Sit down and finish the meal Ana prepared for you.”

I hold his gaze for a few more seconds, not wanting to give in, but then I lower myself back into my chair. The surge of defiant anger that came upon me so suddenly is gone, leaving me drained and wanting to cry. I hate the fact that Julian can win a fight so easily, that I’m still not fearless enough to test his limits.

Not over something as minor as finishing a meal, at least.

If I’m going to defy him, it will be over something that matters.