“You need to eat something.” Zachary’s voice roused Cora from the blank slate that had become her mind.

A tray slid over the table. Mouth-watering smells wafted over to her—crisp bread, creamy pasta, red wine—but her stomach clenched at the thought of eating.

She sat on the beach house’s porch. It faced a wide expanse of beach front.

Waiting. That’s what she was doing. Waiting for the perfect moment.

She’d already planned her escape. While Zachary had been in the kitchen, she’d taken small, inconspicuous glances up and down the coastline.

Half a mile away, a tangle of jungle-like vegetation had encroached on the sandy beach. Less than a yard in, darkness beckoned.

It would be a hard run, and she wasn’t exactly an athlete, but she knew she could make it.

She would make it. She had to. There was no other choice.

Not unless she wanted to spend the rest of her life here, with Zachary.

The cottage was beautiful, of course. The beach as idyllic as that on a travel brochure.

If it had been any of her men here with her, she would have thanked Santa Muerte for blessing her with just a wonderful life.

But Zachary presence left the feel of sticky oil on her skin.

Nearby, Lady lay curled in a ball, watching the waves ebb and flow. Had the dog been here before that she was so relaxed? Or was that because of how weak she was?

Cora tried to feel sorry for the dog, but then she might start feeling sorry for herself too and that was a slippery fucking slope, one she refused to go down.

They were both trapped, but one of them, at least, had the desire to break free. To escape. As soon as—

“Eat!” Cutlery rattled as Zachary’s fist slammed down on the distressed wood table. “I won’t have you fainting on me.”

Fainting?

Cora lifted a fork and toyed with a strip of fettuccine.

Was it poisoned? Drugged?

Her mind didn’t feel right. Everything was soft, and insubstantial. Touching a thought made it dissipate, like puffing on a dandelion. Fragments of her mind fluttered away, beautiful in their flight but lost forever.

Escape.

That was what she had to remain focused on.

Escape.

She dropped her fork, and lifted the wine glass to her lips. The first sip made her tongue recoil, but she welcomed the trickle of coolness as the wine went down her throat.

“You really shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach, Eleodora.”

She drew a deep breathe.

Now or never.

“I don’t want this,” she said, pushing her plate away with trembling fingertips.

“It’s all there is.”

She glanced at his plate. “I want a steak.”

Zachary patted a napkin against his lips. “Then I’ll bring you one.”

The kitchen faced the porch. Zachary had been keeping an eye on her the whole time while he’d been cooking. But, to reach the kitchen, he had to go through the front door and down a short hallway.

Zachary stood, pushing back his chair with the back of his legs.

“And another bottle of wine,” Cora said.

“You don’t like the wine?”

“I’d prefer a white.”

Zachary left with an amused smile on his mouth. Just before he stepped inside the beach house, Cora slipped off her sandals and held them in a hand.

As soon as the dark interior of the beach house swallowed Zachary, she ran straight for the side of the porch and vaulted over the railing.

Soft beach sand broke her fall, but she still stumbled forward three steps before she could catch her balance.

Behind her, Lady barked.

No! Bad dog!

She didn’t look back. Her feet sank relentlessly into the soft sand as she tore over the beach, heading for the beckoning dark.

Another bark, this one louder than the first, but not any closer.

“Stay!”

For a moment, she thought Zachary’s command had been directed at her, and that made her laugh.

Fuck you, motherfucker!

Her legs screamed at her to stop, but she forced herself to run faster. She pumped her arms, lungs burning the closer she got to the overgrown jungle.

Just before she broke through into that cool, green darkness, she hazarded a quick glance behind her.

Zachary stood on the porch, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. Lady sat at his heel, ears pricked up and tongue lolling out the side of her mouth.

Cora stopped running in sheer confusion.

Why wasn’t he chasing her?

She was far enough that she couldn’t clearly make out his expression, but it looked like he wore a rueful smile. Cora spun to look at the jungle, her skin suddenly writhing in panic.

Was there something worse in the jungle than Zachary? Was he that sure of himself that he knew she’d come running back to him out of fear?

Fuck that.

She plunged into the cool darkness. Foliage reached for her, slapping against her arms and legs as she struggled through the thick underbrush. Roots kept snagging her bare feet, and branches and dangling trellises caressed her face as she moved deeper into the jungle.

Seconds later, light cut geometric shapes through the vegetation.

She squinted, and her heart pounded in victory.

A road.

She was right by a road!

Cora sped up, falling twice before she could push her way out of the thick vegetation. Dusting off her clothes, she cast a vague smile around as she took in the scene.

No, not a road. A runway.

Her smile faded. And, just past that, a cliff.

The muscles on her legs writhed from the exertion she’d just put them through, feeling loose and rubbery as she slowly trundled over the runway. The sun had baked the tarmac to a blistering shine; she paused to slip her sandals back on and then forced herself to keep walking.

She stared down at the ocean where it beat relentlessly against grey cliffs.

Whoosh, crash, hiss.

Ad infinitum.

Cora looked up, but the sun was too bright for her to make out much beyond what looked to be a small control tower for the runway. But, even from here, she could see it was empty.

Keeping in sight of the ocean, she headed away from the runway.

It couldn’t have taken her longer than half an hour before she came in sight of the beach house again.

Zachary rocked in his chair on the porch. He’d taken away their plates, but a second bottle of wine had joined the first.

Condensation beaded the glass.

“Did you enjoy your walk?” Zachary asked cheerfully.

“Yes.”

Because what the hell else was she supposed to say?

“Good. I hope you worked up an appetite. Shall I go reheat your steak?”

Cora sat carefully in her chair.

She grabbed the rest of her wine and slugged it down, then wiped fingertips over her mouth.

They came back red.

Laying her arms on the table, Cora put her head down and began to sob.