Rosa looks relieved that I’m talking again. “We haven’t seen him since the afternoon,” she says, and Ana nods, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen.

“Okay.” I take a few more sips of the hot chocolate and then hand the cup back to Ana. “Thank you.”

“Can I get you something to eat?” Ana asks hopefully. “A sandwich perhaps, or some fruit?”

My stomach roils at the thought of food, but I know that I need to eat something. I can’t die alongside Julian, no matter how appealing that option seems at the moment. “Yes, please.” My voice sounds strained. “Just a piece of toast with cheese, if you don’t mind.”

Jumping off the bed, Rosa gives me a huge, approving smile. “There we go. See, Ana, I told you she’s a fighter.” And before I can change my mind about the meal, she runs out of the room to grab the food.

“I’m going to shower,” I tell Ana, getting up as well. All of a sudden, I have a strong urge to be alone—to be away from the smothering concern I see on Ana’s face. My body feels cold and brittle, like an icicle that might shatter at any moment, and my eyes are burning with unshed tears.

Just focus on breathing. Just one tiny breath after another.

“Of course, child.” Ana gives me a kind, weary smile. “You go right ahead. The food will be waiting for you when you come out.”

And as I make my escape into the bathroom, I see her quietly slipping out of the room.

* * *

“Nora! Oh my God, Nora!”

Rosa’s screams and frantic knocking on the bathroom door startle me out of my numb, almost catatonic state. I have no idea how long I’ve been standing under the hot spray, but I immediately jump out. Then, wrapping a towel around myself, I race to the door, my wet feet sliding on cold tiles.

My heart hammering in my throat, I yank open the door. “What is it?”

“He’s alive!” Rosa’s scream nearly deafens me with its high-pitched volume. “Nora, Julian is alive!”

“Alive?” For a moment, I can’t process what she’s saying, my brain sluggish from hunger and grief. “Julian is alive?”

“Yes!” she squeals, grabbing my hands and jumping up and down. “Peter just got word that they found him and a few of his men alive. They’re being taken to the hospital as we speak!”

My knees buckle, and I sway on my feet. “To the hospital?” My voice is barely above a whisper. “He’s really alive?”

“Yes!” Rosa pulls me into a bone-crushing hug, then releases me, stepping back with a giant grin on her face. “Isn’t that amazing?”

“Yes, of course . . .” My head is spinning with joy and disbelief, my pulse racing a mile a minute. “You said he’s being taken to a hospital?”

“Yes, that’s what Peter said.” Rosa’s expression sobers a bit. “He’s talking to Ana downstairs. I didn’t stay to listen—I wanted to give you the news as soon as possible.”

“Of course, thank you!” I’m electrified all of a sudden, all traces of my mental fog and despair falling away. Julian is alive and being taken to a hospital!

Running to the closet, I pull out the first dress I find and throw it on, dropping the towel on the floor. Then I dash to the door and fly down the stairs, with Rosa hurrying after me.

Peter is in the kitchen next to Ana. The housekeeper’s eyes widen as she sees me barreling toward them, my feet bare and my hair dripping-wet from the shower. I probably look like a crazy woman, but I don’t give a damn. All I care about is finding out more about Julian.

“How is he?” I pant, skidding to a stop a foot away from the two of them. “What kind of condition is he in?”

An expression shockingly similar to a smile flickers across Peter’s hard face as he looks at me. “They’re going to run some tests at the hospital, but right now it looks like your husband survived a plane crash with nothing worse than a broken arm, a couple of cracked ribs, and a nasty gash on his forehead. He’s unconscious, but that appears to be mostly due to blood loss from his head wound.”

And as I stare at Peter in open-mouthed incredulity, he explains, “The plane fell in a heavily wooded area, so the trees cushioned much of the impact. The pilot’s cabin—where Esguerra and Kent were sitting—got ripped off by the force of the impact, and that seems to have saved their lives.” The smile disappears then, and his metallic eyes darken. “Most of the others died, though. The fuel was in the back, and it exploded, destroying that portion of the plane. Only three of the soldiers back there survived, and they’re badly burned. If it weren’t for the combat gear they were all wearing, they would not have survived either.”

“Oh my God.” A wave of horror washes over me. Julian is alive, but nearly fifty of his men perished. I’ve had minimal interaction with most of the guards, but I’ve seen many of them around the estate. I know them, if only by sight. They were all strong, seemingly indestructible men. And now they’re dead. Gone—just as Julian would’ve been if he hadn’t been up front.

“What about Lucas?” I ask, starting to shake with delayed reaction. It’s beginning to hit me that Julian was in a plane crash and survived. That, like a cat with nine lives, he beat the odds yet again.

“Kent has a broken leg and a severe concussion. He was also unconscious when they were found.”