The moment he saw me, his palm cracked across my face. Then he forced me to my knees.

"Apologize to Rebecca."

"Marina, what the hell happened to you?" His voice dripped with disgust. "You used to be so sweet, so considerate. When did you become this vicious? Lashing out and hurting people at the drop of a hat?"

"If your father could see what you've turned into, it would kill him."

The slap had split something inside my mouth. I tasted blood.

Jacob raised his hand to hit me again, but I caught his wrist. My grip was ice-cold, and I held on tight.

I looked up at him, my face completely blank.

"I'm only going to ask you this once."

"You knew. You knew I was tricked and sent to Hollow Creek Village. Didn't you?"

His body went rigid. The color drained from his face, and he looked away.

"That was just a game. I'm talking about what you did to Rebecca. Stop changing the subject!"

"Oh." My voice was flat. "So you were in on it."

He didn't need to say another word. That single sentence told me everything.

The question had been a formality. Deep down, I'd already known.

Three years.

For three years, I believed I'd been kidnapped and dumped in that godforsaken wasteland. I tried everything to reach Jacob, my fiancé, to beg him to save me.

I had his tracking device on me the entire time. The one he'd made specifically for me.

On those nights when Ivan and Kathy had beaten me until my body was a canvas of bruises, when I lay bleeding and wide-eyed in the dark, unable to sleep through the pain, I would run my fingers over the tracker embedded in the belt. Over and over, tracing its edges like a prayer. And I'd remember the way Jacob had looked at me, his face so gentle, so full of warmth, when he said:

"As long as you wear this, no matter where you are in the world, I'll find you."

So I never took it off. Not once. Not even when Ivan and Kathy saw how expensive the belt looked and tried to rip it off me to sell. I took the beating. I took every blow they gave me. But I never let go.

Now I flung that belt at Jacob's feet. The tracker was still inside.

"Your gift. I'm returning it."

Jacob glanced down. His breath caught.

"Why is there... so much blood on this?"

Of course there was. All of it mine. Every stain from every time they'd tried to tear it away and I'd refused to let go. My fingers had bled. My waist had bled. The leather was stiff with it.