My body awakens with a jolt, my pulse quickening on a surge of fear. This must be it: the punishment I’ve been expecting. With the doctors having deemed me healed earlier today, my reprieve is over.

“Julian?” His name comes out on a choked breath as he grips the nape of my neck, his long fingers nearly encircling my throat. His huge body is all muscle, hard and uncompromising around me. One squeeze of those steely fingers, and he’d crush my throat. The thought chills me, yet a hollow ache coils in my core, my nipples peaking with harsh arousal. The anger coming off him is palpable, and it calls to something savage inside me, fueling the dark fire simmering within.

If he’s decided to finally punish me, I’m going to make damn sure I get what I deserve.

He leans into me, his breath warm on my face, and at that moment, I make my move. My right hand forms a fist at my side, and I swing upward with all my strength, striking the underside of his chin. At the same time, I twist to the right, breaking his grip on my neck, and duck under his extended arm, whirling around to hit him in the back.

Except he’s no longer there.

In the half-second it took me to turn, Julian moved, as quick and deadly as any assassin. Instead of connecting with his back, the sharp edge of my palm slams into his elbow, and I cry out as the impact sends a shock of pain through my arm.

“Fuck!” His furious hiss is accompanied by a blurringly fast movement. Before I can react, he’s got me encircled in his arms, my wrists crossed in front of my chest and his left leg wrapped around my knees to prevent me from kicking. With him holding me from behind, I can’t bite him, and my attempts to head-butt his chin fall woefully short as he keeps his face out of my reach.

All that training, and he subdued me in three seconds flat.

Frustration mingles with adrenaline, adding to the fury brewing inside me. Fury at him for taunting me with tenderness these two weeks, and most of all, fury at myself.

My fault, my fault, it’s all my fault. The words are a vicious drumbeat in my mind. Guilt, bitter and thick, rises in my throat, choking me as it mixes with the aching grief.

Rosa. Our baby. Dozens of men dead.

The sound that bursts out of my throat is something between a growl and a sob. Despite the futility of it, I begin to fight, bucking and twisting in Julian’s iron hold. I don’t have much leverage, but with one of his legs restraining mine, my frantic, jerky movements are enough to push him off-balance.

With a loud curse, he falls backward, still gripping me tightly. His back takes the brunt of the fall. I hardly feel the impact as he grunts and immediately rolls over, pinning me to the hard wooden floor. Disregarding his heavy weight on top of me, I continue fighting, struggling with all my strength. The cold wood presses into my face, but the discomfort barely registers.