Page 45 of Stolen Faith

“It’s…not my body.” Izabel closed her eyes and nodded.

“It’s not your body.”

Rowan talked her through several other R2I techniques. He knew on some level he was scaring her, and he wanted to talk more about escape options, but right now, Izabel was the most vulnerable because they were focused on her. He and Brennon had both been unsuccessful in pulling their attention off her to them, so she had to be able to handle this on her own.

At least until Brennon got free.

Chapter Ten

Juliette sat upright when she heard fabric rustle as Devon shifted.

He tipped his head back, a grimace stamping his features.

Juliette tapped her cuffs lightly on the dirty wood floor, drawing his attention. Devon’s head turned slowly.

She gave him a smile she hoped would bolster him, reassure him that she was okay, but she feared it was wobbly at best. He couldn’t see her lips, but she hoped he’d see the smile in her eyes, in the way her face moved.

Devon returned her smile with a wry one of his own. His gaze slid from her around the room, assessing.

“Jules,” Devon said softly.

Juliette closed her eyes, the nickname bringing tears to her eyes.

“I love you,” he said softly. “I always have, and I always will.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d said that. It’d better not be the last. The fact that he said it at all meant he’d looked around and decided they were in very serious, probably mortal danger.

Juliette squeezed her eyes closed, and when she opened them, she was glaring at her husband. She would not accept dramatic, doomed statements right now.

Devon grinned. “That’s better.”

Juliette raised her hands as much as she could and shot Devon the finger. Even that slight movement made her grimace. There was something wrong with her shoulders; the muscles felt like they were burning, and it was hard to move her arms.

Devon must have caught her expression.

“You’re hurt.”

Juliette shook her head.

“Juliette.” His voice was stern now. “You’re hurt and—”

“I’m hurt? You were shot!” At least that was what she tried to say, except the words were just muffled noises. She pointed at his chest, hoping to get her point across.

Devon looked down at himself. They’d put him in a pair of green scrub pants, but his upper body was bare. A large white bandage covered his chest.

“It’s okay,” Devon said. “I’m okay.”

Liar.

He looked around again. “Is one of the doors a bathroom?” Devon asked.

Juliette nodded. From what she remembered, the spartan bathroom was entirely covered in tile with a drain in the center. A showerhead stuck out of the wall with no tub or shower pan under it. The sink was metal, the toilet bowl marked with water rings and stains that looked older than her.

“This isn’t the same room as before, right?” Devon’s head wobbled a little as he looked around, then blinked, grimacing.

Again, Juliette nodded, wishing desperately she could talk to him. Of the two of them, she might be the more ruthless, but he had far more experience in situations like this. Usually, it was in talking his assets out of these situations, but she’d happily do whatever he told her if it would get them out of there. Maybe he could talk her through what to do, even if she couldn’t give him the limited information she had that he didn’t.

He examined her again, focused on the cuffs. “You can break that chain. The weak point is the clip that connects everything, so all you have to do is—”

---