Juliette sleeps the entire way back to my condo, and I spend an excruciating twenty minutes in panic mode. Angry. Helpless. All the things I hate.

He drugged her. A sick feeling overtakes my stomach. Apparently my last-ditch attempt to save her last night with the 911 call didn't work.

He violated her. Raped her.

I glance over at her when we're at a stoplight and she looks so young. Her cheeks are red and blotchy, matching her lips. I've never seen her eyes this puffy. Reaching for her hand, I squeeze my fingers into her palm. She squeezes back with a faint grip and groans.

Motherfucker. How could he do this to her? Who would look at Juliette — much less meet, talk or claim to love her — and want to hurt her this way?

I have to control myself and focus on getting her out of the car and upstairs. She must have gotten some of the pill out of her system because when we arrive and park, she stirs.

"Juliette?" I open her door and kneel down, rubbing her arm. "Do you think you can walk to the elevator?"

Still seemingly in a half-asleep daze, she nods. "My feet," she murmurs. "They hurt."

"Oh, angel." I brush her hair off her face with my fingers and feel a spike of despair in my gut. What did he do to her when she was unconscious?

I'm going to kill him.

When Zoe's released, I'm going to kill him.

With little effort on my part — Juliette's become so thin — I spin her around in the passenger seat and slip off her black heels. What the hell, it's only a few steps to the elevator. On shaky legs, she climbs out, and I carry her to the elevator in my arms. Once inside, I let her down, and she clings to me.

I keep my arm around her all the way upstairs. Thank God the elevator goes from the garage to my floor — I'm pretty sure she wouldn't want the concierge to see her like this.

Once inside, I steer her into my bedroom. She sits, sways, and then flops back, all while groaning. I'm not sure, what, if anything, she's aware of right now. All I want is to get her out of her soiled clothes.

"Let's sit up." I gently scoop her up so I can unzip her dress. She's boneless, like she's made of jello. Her head's slumped on my shoulder. Yeah, she's really out now. I peel her dress down, my heart pounding.

Then I let out a breath.

I hadn't wanted to see what kind of lingerie she'd worn for her date with Engel. I'm relieved to see that it's her most basic set — beige bra, matching underwear. The kind she doesn't like me to see because she doesn't think they're sexy enough. Gingerly, I lay her back down, her head on the pillow. Should I take her bra and panties off? Would she be more comfortable?

No, I shouldn't. Not after what she's told me about Sebastian. I don't want her to feel more violated than she already does. In an attempt to distract myself from the rage building in my body, I wet a washcloth with warm water and wipe Juliette's face. Then I find a big T-shirt of mine and wrangle her into it. She'll probably feel better if she sleeps in this.

I shut out all but one low bedside light. She curls onto her side and she opens her eyes. "I love you," she says softly.

If I thought my heart was broken before, I'm devastated now. Wrapping myself around her, I stay up most of the night, making sure she's still breathing, making sure she won't vomit and choke.

And every minute that I'm awake, I'm reminded of how I failed to save her from that man. The one man who still holds the key to saving my sister.

My eyes open slowly and I almost grunt out loud. Thank God I don't, because Juliette's still sleeping. I think I only got about an hour of sleep last night, drifting off when Juliette got up to use the bathroom. Then, I knew she would definitely be okay.

I shift on my side and study the sleeping Juliette. I still can't fathom why Engel would want to have sex with her while she was unconscious. The very idea is revolting.

She's facing me, her dark eyelashes full, her lips a faint ruby. The duvet is pulled up around her shoulders, and she looks so pretty. I don't want to wake her, but I sweep some of her long hair back and then I kiss her on the forehead.

Her body jerks when my lips touch her and she socks me on the arm, hard, with a growl. I reach for her arm and she bolts up and scoots away. By the time she's at the end of the bed, she's screaming. Crying. Hysterical.

"Stay the fuck away from me," she cries.

Oh God. Is she referring to Engel? Or the drugs he gave her? "Juliette?"

I sit up and approach her like she's an injured child.

She lets out another cry and wraps her arms around her midsection. She's quaking and rocking and I want to hold her but I'm not sure if it will make things worse. My gut twists in anguish because it's almost like looking at a possessed woman. Finally, her eyes focus on me.

"Oh my God, Griffin." Her breath is coming in hiccups now, and she's trembling.

I almost start crying when she reaches her arms to me.

"Oh, angel. What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"

"I thought you were..." she's almost hyperventilating now.

"You thought I was what?" I clasp her shoulders gently in my hands, not wanting the answer. "What did you think?"

"I'm sorry. I thought you were Sebastian," she whispers. "He's..."

A cold spike of fear stabs my gut and I move toward her, wanting to take her in my arms. "Shhh. It's going to be okay."

* * *

"No. It's not going to be okay." I wipe the tears off my cheeks with my fingers and move away from Griffin. "I'm not crying because I'm scared. I'm crying because I'm angry."

He stares at me with giant eyes but knows enough not to say anything.

"I don't know what I told you last night. What did I say? Anything? I don't remember getting here." I crawl over to the headboard and prop a pillow to bolster my low back. As I pull the sheet up to my waist, I realize I'm wearing one of Griffin's University of Miami t-shirts. "Did you take off my dress?"

"You called the concierge here and said you were at Las Fritas and that I needed to get you. So I did. You were really out of it, said Sebastian had given you drugs and he," Griffin pauses to take a deep breath, "he violated you last night. And that he was going to drug and rape you last night but you vomited on him and he threw you out of the car."

I nod slowly. "That covers it. Oh wait. No. That doesn't. Sebastian told me that he's a somnophiliac. He can't fuck a woman unless she's unconscious."

He recoils, probably in horror, and he stammers for a while. "I...I...Wow. Shit. Oh God. I tried to get you out of there last night. When I saw you in his bed, I even picked you up in my arms and was going to carry you out. But I heard a voice and couldn't. Then I called 911." He's sitting cross-legged on the bed and he buries his face in his hands.

Maybe at an earlier time, I would have comforted him. Now I'm just pissed. Folding my arms across my breasts, I glare at him. "Stop. I know you tried. But trying wasn't good enough. He was able to talk the paramedics into leaving. And I woke up with this." I fling the sheet back and shift my leg, revealing the bite mark on my thigh.

Griffin looks like someone's sucked all the blood from his body.

"Yeah," I continue, raging. "So. He tells me he didn't fuck me. Because after the paramedics came, I puked everywhere. And that was backed up by his housekeeper-assistant, Lena. She said Sebastian never took off his clothes. You know Lena? The blonde with the accent? Well, she broke it to me this morning that he's also drugged and raped her. So I think you're up to speed now."

"Angel..." he licks his lips. I've never seen Griffin look so nervous or disturbed. And I don't really care.

"Do you have a pair of shorts I can wear?" I'm all business now, sliding out of bed.

He hustles to the bureau. "Actually, I have some leggings you left here way back when." He hands me the black leggings, and I put one foot into the leg.

"Way back when things were only a little fucked up because you were just dealing Molly."

"Please, Juliette. This is awful for me, too. I feel so guilty. I would have never had you go through this —"

"Shut. Up. SHUT UP." I'm screaming now. My stomach feels like it's eating itself and I have another headache and I just want to be left alone. "You pimped me out so you could save Zoe. That's the bottom line. And don't tell me that I also screwed up by agreeing to be his whore while you were gone. Trust me, I've beaten myself up enough over it. And will continue to for the rest of my life."

I stomp out into the living room and begin pacing. Griffin follows and I turn my back on him to stare out the window at the impossibly blue ocean. I feel Griffin's hands on my shoulders and tears begin to well in my eyes.

"Look, he's gone for most of the week. Zoe is supposed to arrive next Sunday if the shipment goes well. The money transfers are all set. Let's just stay calm and stick together. I love you, Juliette."

"I love you too, Griffin." my voice is soft. I'm still not going to apologize for my anger. "But I need to be alone right now. I have a week of final exams and I'm so upset. I need to focus on something normal, like school. And I can't look at you without being crazy mad. I feel like you abandoned me. Please take me home. Please respect my wishes. I need to deal with this on my own right now and have some control over my life. At least for today. I need to sleep in my own bed."

I turn to him, tears spilling over my lashes. He presses his lips together and nods once.

We don't say anything in the elevator to the car — I'm barefoot, a fact I don't give a crap about — and on the drive over, I groan, thinking about how Sebastian has my purse, and with it, my condo keys and ID. Fuck him. I'll have to beg the concierge to let me in. And then deal with getting a phone later, once I've slept through this headache.

At my condo, Griffin puts the car in park. "Do you want me to come upstairs with you? Get you settled?" HIs eyes are wet.

I shake my head. "I have a lot to do. I need to sort shit out with the concierge because I don't have a key. That's my first priority. We'll talk later. When I'm ready."

As I'm opening the door, his voice is a plea. "Juliette? I'm not going to call you. I'm going to respect what you want. But will you do me one favor?"

I turn to look at him, and it's killing me, knowing how much he's hurting right now. How guilty he must feel, how angry he must be. But my instincts are telling me to look out for myself first. Put your oxygen mask on first and all that. "What?" My voice and my resolve are shaky.

"Will you text me at least once every day? Just to say you're ok? Even if you just text, I'm ok. Or, OK. I won't text back unless you ask me to. But if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me. I'll be here in five minutes. I want to make things right, angel." His voice cracks. "But if you can text once a day, that way I'll know you're...you're..." I suspect he's about to say still alive.

Now crying, I lean into him and kiss his cheek, which is marked with stubble. "I will. Crap. What's your number? I have to go get a new phone today."

I see the muscles in his jaw bunch and know he's dying to help me. "Look, can I go buy you a phone now and I'll bring it to you upstairs? You don't need to let me in. I'll just knock and hand it to you with my number programmed in. You can't be without a phone."

We stare at each other and finally, I nod.

The next few days are busy with sleep and exams, and the routine of both is soothing. Sebastian sends my phone, purse and ID to the condo, via a courier, along with two thousand dollars and the instructions to show up at a doctor's office for a blood test and a physical.

Since I'm more afraid of Sebastian than I am angry at Griffin, I go. The thought of jeopardizing Zoe's life is still a possibility, so I'm trying to be compliant while Sebastian's in New York. Even though I hate him more than I thought was possible.

The doctor draws blood, asks me a bunch of questions and quizzes me about my stomach symptoms. He's worried I have an ulcer. I'm about to tell him that's the least of my problems, but I keep my mouth shut because I assume he's friends with Sebastian. Doctors are supposed to keep their patient info confidential, but I now know that powerful men look out for other powerful men. He tells me to say hello to Sebastian and gives me antacids.

I throw them in the trash on the way out of the medical building.

Every day I text Griffin. Usually all I write is, "I'm OK," although on Thursday, as I'm walking into my condo, I include a "Hi."

I pour myself some sweet tea. This is my celebration for finishing exams. And for staying alive. Super-sweet tea.

I snort bitterly as I pour a big glass. Some celebration. I should be trying to plot with Lena about how to nail Sebastian's ass to the wall, but I can't stomach another minute in that house. It's easier to avoid her this week, but I can't keep putting her calls off. Tomorrow, maybe. Or Saturday.

Frankly, I don't think we'll be able to do anything against Sebastian. He's too rich and too cunning. I'm sitting on the balcony, staring at the ocean and thinking about this when my phone rings. I stare at it. Why do still feel so damned dazed, like I'm perpetually half asleep?

"Hello?" I murmur.

"Come get me! I've been released from jail early!"

I let out a happy cry, and wonder if Sebastian had anything to do with it, but realize I don't care. The familiar, effervescent voice makes me laugh for the first time in what feels like years.

Victoria's back, and in my half-crazed, unstable state, she's just what I need right now.

"You're coming tonight, right?" Victoria's been home less than twenty-four hours and she's slipped right back into being my own personal social secretary. Or trying to, in between her phone calls to friends and lovers and grooming appointments. Jail wasn't kind to her beauty routine.

I'm on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. Trying to forget about everything that's happened this week. Sebastian. The fight with Griffin. The terrible phone call I had with Ash this morning, in which he told me that he'd prefer to die than have me prostitute myself and that I was stupid for getting myself in this situation to begin with. I don't know if he means the situation with Sebastian or Griffin, and because I hang up on him, I don't find out.

His words made me feel like I've done this all for nothing. That it's my fault I was violated. The fact that I don't know what Sebastian did makes everything even worse. The fact that Griffin played a part in the events makes me all the more upset.

"Hunh?" I say to Victoria as I struggle to sit up.

"Are you coming to the party tonight at Babylon?" Victoria plops next to me. She's in top form, practically sparkling with energy. Her red hair is in big curlers and she's wearing one of her silky blue kimonos.

"This is my get-out-of-jail-free party, and I want you to be there," she coos. "Please? And it's a new DJ, a woman. We've got the entire VIP."

I make a long groan. I'd actually texted Griffin a long message today, saying I wasn't feeling well and that I thought about seeing him tonight, or this weekend, but that I didn't feel like it. It killed me to say those words, because all I want is to fold myself into his body and never let go. If I saw him, though, I'd probably get angry again and never stop crying. I'm too confused and want to wait until Zoe's back to have a deep conversation with him.

"Hey. Hey? Juliette? What's wrong?" For the first time possibly ever, Victoria looks concerned. Motherly, even, which is weird. What did jail do to her?

"Did something happen between you and Griffin? I don't understand why you're acting this way. He's alive and everything should be great, right? I can't wait to see him."

I'd tried to keep my secret from her since she came home last night. Tried to brush everything off as stress. But when she says Griffin's name, I burst into tears.

And tell her everything.

* * *

There hasn't been much to be happy about this week, but when I hear Victoria's voice on the phone, I can't help but crack a smile.

"How's my girl?"

"How's my guy?" she responds. "I can't believe I'm hearing your voice. Where are you?"

"Home, at the condo." Waiting. Wondering if the woman I love is going to leave me because I fucked up so bad.

"I'm having a little coming home party tonight at Babylon."

"Oh yeah?" I flick off the video game I'd been playing on the TV. it's the only things that keeps my mind off all this crap this week. Off Juliette. Off Zoe. Off Sebastian, who holds all of our lives in his slimy little hands.

"I'd like you to come." Vee's using that low, throaty purr, the one that lets me know she has an ulterior motive. It's unclear what she's angling for now, though.

Is she so out of control that she'd openly flirt and try to sleep with me, knowing I'm with Juliette?

"Aww, I dunno. I'm kinda not in the mood. I'd like to see you though. Want to get lunch?"

"Can't. Have a nail appointment. Pretty please? I really want you there. Want to see you."

I can practically hear her grinning. "Pleeeease?"

I heave a sigh. "Vee, I want to see you, too. But I feel like it will be awkward because I'm with Juliette and she knows that you and I...well, shit. Here's the thing. Juliette and I are having some problems right now, and I don't want her to get the wrong impression by going out with you."