“Rosa . . .” I still don’t get it. “If she arrived here in handcuffs, they’re not exactly having a romantic date. You know that, right?”

“Yes, of course.” She sounds remarkably flippant. “He’s probably doing something horrible to her.”

“And you want to see that why?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m hoping that seeing him like that will help me get over this silly crush. Or maybe I’m just morbidly curious. Does it really matter?”

“No, I guess not.” I hurry to keep up with her fast stride. “But I can tell you right now that Dr. Wessex would have a lot of fun with you.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” she says and grins at me again. “It’s a good thing you’re the one in therapy then, isn’t it?”

* * *

The guards’ barracks are on the very edge of the compound, right next to the jungle. Mixed in with the cluster of small, boxy buildings are a few regular-sized houses. From my earlier explorations, I know that they’re occupied by some of the higher-ranked employees in Julian’s organization and guards who have families.

As we approach, Rosa makes a beeline for one of those larger homes, and I follow her, half-running to keep up. My stomach is beginning to feel unsettled, and I’m already regretting that I gave in to this insanity.

“This is it,” she says in a hushed tone as we go around the side of the house. “His bedroom is here.”

“And you know this how?”

She grins at me. “I might’ve been out here a time or two before.”

“Rosa . . .” I’m discovering a whole new side to my friend. “You’ve spied on the poor man before?”

“Just once or twice,” she whispers, crouching under a window as I hang back a few feet and observe. “Now, shhh.” She presses her finger to her lips in a silencing gesture.

I lean against a tree trunk, cross my arms, and watch as she slowly rises and peeks into the window. I’m astounded that she’s bold enough to do this in broad daylight. Even though this side of Lucas’s house faces the forest, there are plenty of guards in the area, and they could theoretically spot us hanging around.

Before I can voice that concern to Rosa, she turns toward me with a disappointed look on her face. “They’re not there,” she says in a low voice. “I wonder where they could be.”

“Maybe he took her elsewhere,” I say, relieved by this development. “Let’s go.”

“Hold on, let me just check something.” Still crouching, she moves toward a window further to the left.

I reluctantly trail after her, increasingly nauseous and uncomfortable with the situation. Another minute, I promise myself, and I’ll head back.

Just as I’m about to tell her that I’m leaving, Rosa lets out a soft gasp and waves for me to come closer. “There,” she says in an excited whisper, pointing at the window. “He’s got her right there.”

Now my own curiosity kicks in. Bending down, I make my way to where Rosa is hiding and crouch next to her. “What is he doing?” I whisper, almost afraid to know.

“I don’t know,” she whispers back, turning to look at me. “He’s not in the room. She’s alone there.”

“What is she doing then?”

“See for yourself. She’s not looking this way.”

I hesitate for a moment, but the temptation proves to be too much. Holding my breath, I rise just enough to see over the lower rim of the window, barely cognizant of Rosa peeking in next to me.

As I feared, the view inside makes my stomach flip.

The room I’m looking at is large and sparsely furnished. Judging by the black leather sofa near the wall and the TV on the opposite side, it must be Lucas’s living room. The walls are painted white, and the carpet is gray. It’s a starkly masculine room, functional and uncompromising, but it’s not the decor that catches my attention.

It’s the young woman in the middle.

Completely naked, she’s tied to a sturdy wooden chair, her feet spread apart and her hands bound behind her back. Her head is lowered, her tangled blond hair concealing her face and much of her upper body. All I can see of her are narrow feet and long pale limbs covered with bruises.

Limbs that appear far too thin for a girl of her height.

As I stare in horrified fascination, she lifts her head in a sudden jerky movement and looks directly at me, her blue eyes sharp and clear in her delicately featured face.

I instantly duck, my pulse racing from a burst of adrenaline. Rosa, however, is still looking in the window, her expression that of avid curiosity.

“Rosa,” I hiss, grabbing her arm. “She saw us. Let’s go.”

“Okay, okay,” my friend concedes, letting me tug her away. “Let’s go.”

We head back toward our usual path in silence. Rosa appears to be deep in thought, and I can’t bring myself to speak, my nausea intensifying with every step. As we pass by a set of rose bushes, I kneel down and throw up while Rosa holds my hair and repeatedly apologizes for causing me distress in my condition.

I wave her apologies away, shakily getting back on my feet. What disturbs me the most is not the fact that I saw a woman bound and likely about to be tortured.

It’s that the sight didn’t shock me as it should have.

* * *

Julian doesn’t join me for dinner that night. According to Ana, he has an emergency call with one of his Hong Kong associates. I consider going to his office to listen in, but decide to use the time to call my parents instead.