~LAUREN'S POV~

The gun lay on the coffee table, cold and innocent-looking despite what I'd almost done with it hours earlier. My fingers wouldn't stop trembling.

I curled them into fists, then stretched them out again, watching the subtle shake with detached fascination.

"Señorita? More tea?" Julio stood in the doorway, his normally patient face etched with concern.

I shook my head. "I'm fine, thank you."

He didn't move, his dark eyes assessing me with the scrutiny of someone who'd seen shock before.

The cut above his eye had been cleaned and bandaged, but the bruising was already spreading, proof of how hard he'd fought when they took me.

"Did...