How stupid, how gullible of me. I want to kick myself and cry at the same time. I’ve always known what kind of man Julian is, but I still let myself get taken in by his charm, by the way he seemed to want me, need me.
I allowed myself to think I could be something more than a possession to him.
Realizing that I’m still sitting there, reeling from the painful disillusionment, I push back my chair and get up to face Julian from across the table. The kicked-in-the-stomach sensation is still there, but now so is anger. Pure and intense, it’s spreading through my body, sweeping out the remnants of shock and hurt.
These trackers have nothing to do with my safety. I know the extent of the security measures on the estate, and I know that the chances of anyone being able to take me again are beyond minuscule. No, the renewed terrorist threat is just a pretext, a convenient excuse for Julian to do what he’s probably been planning to do all along. It gives him a reason to increase his control over me, to bind me to him so tightly that I will never so much as take a breath without his knowledge.
The trackers will make me his prisoner for the rest of my life . . . and as much as I love Julian, that is not a fate I’m willing to accept.
“No,” I say, and I’m surprised at how calm and steady my voice sounds. “I’m not getting these implants.”
Julian raises his eyebrows. “Oh?” His eyes glint with anger and a faint hint of amusement. “And how would you prevent it, my pet?”
I lift my chin, my heartbeat accelerating further. Despite all the hours of training in the gym, I’m still no match for Julian in a fight. He can subdue me in thirty seconds flat—not to mention he has all these guards under his command. If he’s set on forcing these trackers on me, I won’t be able to stop him.
But that doesn’t mean I won’t try.
“Fuck you,” I say, clearly enunciating each word. “Fuck you and these chips of yours.” And operating on pure adrenaline-driven instinct, I shove the dinner plates across the table at Julian and bolt for the door.
The plates crash to the floor with a shattering noise, and I hear Julian cursing as he jumps back to avoid getting splattered with food. He’s distracted for a moment, and that’s all the time I need as I sprint to the door and out into the foyer. I don’t know where I’m going, nor do I have anything resembling a plan. All I know is that I can’t stay there and meekly go along with this new violation.
I can’t be Julian’s submissive little victim again.
I hear him chasing after me as I run through the house, and I have a sudden flashback to my first day on the island. I ran then too, trying to escape from the man who would become my entire life. I remember how terrified I felt, how woozy from the drugs he’d given me. That was the day Julian had first introduced me to the devastating pleasure-pain of his touch, the day I first realized I was no longer in charge of my life.
I don’t know why I let this tracker thing surprise me. Julian has never once expressed regret over taking away any of my choices, has never apologized for kidnapping me or forcing me to marry him. He treats me well because he wants to, not because there are any adverse consequences to doing otherwise. There’s no one to stop him from doing anything he wants with me, no safe word that I can use to enforce my limits.
I may be his wife, but I’m still his captive in every way that counts.
I’m at the front door now, and I grab the handle, pulling it open. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ana standing near the wall, gaping at me as I fly out the door with Julian hot on my heels. I’m running so fast that I feel only a flash of embarrassment at the notion of her seeing us like this. I think our housekeeper suspects the BDSM-y nature of our relationship—my summer clothes don’t always hide the marks Julian leaves on my skin—and I hope she chalks this up to nothing more than a kinky game.
I have no idea where I’m heading as I sprint down the front steps, but that doesn’t matter. All I want is to evade Julian for a few moments, to buy myself some time. I don’t know what it will gain me, but I know that I need this—that I need to feel like I did something to defy him, that I didn’t bow down to the inevitable without a fight.
I’m halfway across the wide green lawn when I feel Julian gaining on me. I can hear his harsh breathing—he must be going at his top speed as well—and then his hand closes around my left upper arm, spinning me around and yanking me into his hard body.
The impact stuns me for a moment, knocking the breath out of my lungs, but my body reacts on autopilot, my self-defense training kicking in. Instead of attempting to pull away, I drop down like a stone, trying to pull Julian off-balance. At the same time, my knee comes up, aiming for his balls, and my right fist flies straight at his chin.