I hear the ocean.

Feel the breeze.

Groggily, I roll over, arms still heavy, head aching in the center. I look toward the open window, the bright, burning sun blazing its golden rays. The sunlight has swept that entire side of the bedroom. It barely kisses the bed.

I twist over and sit up. The sheets are all over the place, the comforter hanging halfway off the mattress. I rub my eyes, clearing the sleep away.

I still feel drained.

My body feels like it’s been pumped with lead.

I blame it on the pill he gave me, but I must admit I feel better. And I didn’t dream or have any nightmares. It was the emptiest, darkest sleep I’ve ever had, but I feel rested enough.

I push out of bed and walk to the bathroom to make use of the toilet.

As I sit, I hear a door creak open and shut from the bedroom. “Draco?” I call, peering around the corner.

No response.

I finish up in a hurry and walk out of the bathroom. As soon as I do, I let out a breath of relief. No wonder no one answers. It’s one of the maids. She has headphones on. She’s humming as she makes the bed.

I step to the side, and when she sees me, she gasps, clutching the heart of her chest. “Oh—sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to come in here. I thought you were at breakfast. I’m so sorry.” She drops her head, backing away to the door. “Please—please don’t fire me. Please don’t tell Jefe.” She says all of this in Spanish, so rapidly that I almost can’t comprehend it.

I hold out a patient hand, shaking my head. “No, it’s okay,” I coo. “I won’t tell him anything. You were doing your job. Don’t worry.” I give her a comforting smile.

As if she’s surprised to hear this, she relaxes her shoulders and her eyes stretch wide. “I should go.” Her voice is hurried as she grips the doorknob, rushing out.

I watch the door shut, mildly confused.

I walk over and pull it open, peeking around the corner before walking down the hallway. I’m still dressed in one of Draco’s T-shirts and a pair of his basketball shorts.

My hair, I’m certain, is a matted mess because I didn’t brush or blow-dry it after that bath. I can taste the morning breath on my tongue. I need to refresh immediately.

I enter the room I was first sent to when I was brought here and shut the door behind me. I find a decent outfit and dress quickly, and then walk to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I’ve been patched up, somewhat. Draco sent Juanita up during the middle of the night, while I was a bit loopy and drugged up.

I remember the piercing stab of the needle as she re-stitched my wound, but nothing more. Everything else about last night is hazy. I guess he was tired of looking at the damage that had been done to me.

It was a clear reminder that he’d failed me.

I stare into the mirror longer than intended and realize my face looks much worse than it feels.

The entire right side of it is swollen and blue. A bruise has formed—just barely. I look hideous, and for a split second I want to cry.

My face.

My body.

My life.

I’m wondering if I should feel rage or another rush of emotion that I can’t control, but I don’t feel anything. I feel empty, and the emptiness terrifies me much more than the feelings. It scares me, because I know when I actually do feel something, I won’t be able to control it. I won’t be able to hold back on my actions. I will most likely regret it.

When I’m all set, I walk out of the bedroom, cautious of my surroundings. I hear vacuuming and sweeping. I hear chatting and voices echoing. I know it’s the maids, but I am hyperaware of everything. Paranoid, really, of everyone that isn’t Draco.

When I reach the bottom of the staircase, I look to the right, at the dining room. I see Draco standing near the French doors. His back is facing me, his hands behind his back, and someone is in front of him.

He’s talking quietly to the person.

I walk forward slowly, trying to peer around him to see the person, but I can’t. When I’m closer, I hear him talking.

“You don’t feed them. You don’t talk to them. If they say anything to you at all, you cut their fucking tongues out. Don’t be lenient and don’t trust a word they say. I’m trusting you, Diego.” Draco’s smooth, fluent accent trickles out of the dining room.

I step aside, continuing to eavesdrop.

“Francesca says she didn’t know about the plan they had,” Diego says. “She says Bain promised her that if she fucked him a few times he’d help her escape and get her across the border.”

Draco lets out a bitter chuckle. “Don’t believe a word that lying bitch says. Tell her I will be dealing with her soon.”

When he says that, I step around the corner and walk in. Diego, one of the guards, spots me and his eyes widen. He doesn’t say a word. In fact, he looks away so fast that it almost seems unreal.

Draco studies my attire. “You look better today, niñita.”

“You’re lying,” I mutter. “I looked in the mirror. I look hideous.”

He extends his arm, his mouth twitching. “Go. Sit. I’ll be right there.”

I nod, walking to the chair next to his. Sitting, I pull my chair up to the table and pick up a slice of the bacon. I chew it, but I don’t taste a thing.

Damn. Even my taste buds are numb.

By the time I’ve chewed the first slow bite and forced it down, Draco has dismissed Diego and is walking to his chair. He sits down, pulls his chair in, and then picks up his water.

“He’s watching over them?” I ask.

“For now.”

“Why are they still alive?” I ask, and I know he hears the agitation on my breath.

He picks up a napkin to wipe above his lips. “They won’t be for long.”

“Draco, you said you would get rid of them. You said you would make them pay.”

“And I will.”

“Putting them in those cells means they are still breathing.”

He places his napkin down. “Are you ready to cut those breaths short then?”

“W-what?” I stammer.

“You heard me,” he murmurs, picking up his fork and knife and cutting into his steak and eggs. “Are you ready to end them?”

I blink rapidly. “You are the one who’s supposed to make them pay.”

“And I will, but not before letting you take out your aggressions first.”

“I have none,” I state, looking away.

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. You’re still in denial. Still trying to block it out. But when it finally sinks in—when that rage ignites you—you’ll know. I will know.”

I watch him closely as he takes a bite of the steak. I don’t say anything, though. Because I am upset—no, I’m more than upset.

I want them gone, yes, but I didn’t think I’d have to use my own hands to do it. I thought he’d make me watch again, like he did with Kevin. I would have been okay with that.

“You can take your time,” he tells me. “There is no rush.” He reaches forward and tips my chin. “But when it happens, niñita, I will be there. I will make you feel like you again, only much stronger.” He drops his fork and strokes the apple of my cheek. “My beautiful niñita. Look what they’ve done to you.” His nostrils flare, and he points his gaze to my lips. “It is taking everything in me not to draw my gun, go down there, and shoot them until the shed is full of blood and bullets.”

I drop my gaze.

He pulls away.

I look elsewhere. “Where’s Mrs. Molina?” I inquire, ignoring the sudden spark growing between us.

“She didn’t want to see you today.”

I whip my head up with a frown. “What? Why not?”

“She heard what happened to you.” He pauses, only for a brief second. “My mother has the tendency to allow her guilt to eat her alive. She didn’t sleep all night, but I hope she’s making up for it right now.”

His face changes. It’s softer. His eyes dart down, focused on the bowl of sliced fruit. “It’s not just you she doesn’t want to see. It’s me, too. I disappointed her.” He eats faster, trying to ignore his remorse.

“How?”

“I told her I wouldn’t let anything happen to you after I didn’t let you eat those three days. She made me promise, and just like that,” he snaps his fingers, “the promise was broken. She’s a little more than upset.”

His unhappiness is clear, but not too much. He hates revealing any type of emotion. He pushes out of his chair and stands up, straightening his back.

“Eat and be sure to go back to my room. I’ll have one of the maids send over some of the clothes and toiletries from the room you were staying in before. You won’t be going back to it anymore.”

He starts to walk around me, but I catch his hand. My mouth opens, but then clamps shut. I don’t know what to say. What should I tell him to try and ease some of that guilt?

“Thank you, Draco,” I finally say.

He stares down, confused. “I don’t deserve your gratitude right now, Gianna.”

“You’re trying,” I murmur.

“Trying isn’t enough.”

“What’s done is done.” I shrug one shoulder, but he yanks his hand away. “From here, we move forward.”

“Fuck that. This is not over,” he growls, and then he stalks out of the dining room. Patanza shows up as he’s storming out, and he murmurs something to her before taking off.

She looks at me, but her expression is unreadable. She has a rifle in hand, the black strap across her body. She has on gloves and what looks like a bulletproof vest beneath her T-shirt. It’s the most I’ve seen her wear around here.

She watches me for a brief moment, then jerks her gaze away and steps to the side, focusing ahead.

That’s three times in a row today.

None of them have looked at me for longer than a few seconds.

Was this an order from Draco? Maybe he’s onto all of them. Maybe he doesn’t trust any of his men now. I didn’t realize it before, but he has the house heavily guarded today.

There’s a guard in the kitchen where the butlers are when I peer up. I see him standing there with his arms in front of him, guns in each holder.

I glance at Patanza. She doesn’t look at me. Not even a peek.

Sighing, I push out of the chair and walk to the door. I can’t stomach much more. I’m afraid I’ll throw it all up by the time I make it upstairs.

Before I can walk out, Patanza stops me with a gentle hand to the shoulder. Her pleading eyes search my face, her lips trembling a little. “Just so you know, I never liked Pico or Bain, and would have never tolerated it if I’d heard what they were planning to do. I would have told Jefe first thing.” Her eyes shift down, lips twisting. “Jefe doesn’t trust anyone right now because of what happened. He had a talk with all of us yesterday. I don’t want him to fire me, because if he fires any of us, that means he’ll be killing us too. This place is all I have. If you could . . . well, if you could remind him of that for me, I would appreciate it. I would never betray Jefe. Not after all he has done for me.”

I watch her carefully, how her eyes well up and her bottom lip continues to tremble, and I realize there is still a human in there. Unlike the others, she still holds onto her humanity. Her feminism. She is still a woman, not the hardcore thug they think she is. The hardcore thug she pretends to be just helps to keep her place here.

She drops her hand and I nod. “I’ll let him know.”

I walk past her and down the corridor. I hear her following me, but I don’t look back. I assume this is something Draco told her to do. When I’m upstairs and in the bedroom, I shut the door behind me, but I can hear Patanza outside the door. She’s clearly there to stay.

I lie back down, looking toward the open window. I hear the gulls. I hear the ocean. I feel the heat of the sun, the warm breeze floating in.

But what I don’t feel is myself.

Every little noise startles me, from the maids dropping things, to Patanza uttering a small cough.

I want to believe that Draco will never let this happen to me again, but I can’t completely trust him.

It happened once.

Why couldn’t it happen again?