Page 55 of Stolen Faith

“I’m okay,” she murmured before she realized he hadn’t asked her how she was. At least not with words, though she could see the concern in his eyes.

He tilted his head, his expression serious, though not angry, not sad. He was calm and quiet, his expression making it clear he knew she wasn’t okay.

Somehow his silence made it easier to talk, to let out some of the emotions roaring through her, which would hopefully lessen the pressure inside.

“I hate being helpless.” That was the one feeling that was winning out at the moment, though Izabel wasn’t sure why.

“Have you ever been hurt before?” Rowan asked. Quickly clarifying, “Physically, I mean.”

“No. I’ve been very fortunate. Until Camo Cast slapped me, no one had ever hit me or hurt me, in anger, or without my consent.”

“Being helpless isn’t an easy thing. Especially if they reinforce it by hurting you.”

“I want to hurt them back.” Izabel didn’t consider herself a violent person. She’d never hit anyone. She wouldn’t say she’d never felt like it. The urge to do violence had been there, typically whenever she found herself dealing with the small-minded idiots who tore down her parents. But wanting to slap someone for their callous words was a far cry from wanting to genuinely hurt someone.

“That’s normal,” Brennon said, sitting up, and she wondered how long he’d been awake.

Izabel shook her head. “No. You don’t understand. If I were free and someone gave me a gun, I swear to God, I’d use it.”

Rowan sighed. “You wouldn’t.”

Her gaze snapped to his, her temper flaring. “I mean it, Rowan. I want to tear them apart, want to match every kick, every punch, every pinch they’ve given us and then add a million more for good measure. I want them writhing in pain, want to put my foot on their throats and cut off their air, let them see how it feels not to be able to bre—” Her throat closed around the anger until she couldn’t talk anymore. Not without losing her tenuous grip on control. Tears of fury and anguish clouded her vision, so she turned her face away from them.

“Iza,” Brennon whispered.

“I hate feeling so…” She clenched her fists against the arm of the chair. “So fucking furious.”

“Hold on to that anger,” Rowan said, his comment catching her off guard.

She faced him, aware her cheeks were probably flushed. She felt the heat there, her rage burning her from the inside out.

“But don’t let it control you,” he added. “That anger will keep you alive until we get out of here, but you can’t let it do your thinking for you.”

She considered that. “Okay.”

“When we get out of here,” Brennon said, “I think it might be a good idea for all of us to talk to a therapist. This shit…”

That was when Izabel realized she wasn’t the only person struggling. Brennon’s shoulders were slumped forward, his movements slow enough that she knew he was in pain from last night’s beating. Rowan hid his injuries better, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t seriously hurt.

“They get off on belittling us,” Izabel said. “In trying to make us feel helpless, small.”

Brennon nodded. “When they took us to the bathroom, they didn’t unchain Rowan’s arms. They told me to hold him while he relieved himself. They thought they were humiliating us.”

She hadn’t been able to hear what was happening when the guys had been taken to the bathroom, though she’d wondered. At least until…her turn.

Brennon gave her a crooked grin. “But our badass husband shoved that humiliation right back down their throats.”

She appreciated his openness and realized she wanted to give them the same. Needed to. “They watched me pee. I’ve been cursing this dress the entire time we’ve been here, but at least the skirts were long enough to hide behind. Once I was finished, I thought…”

“I’ll make them pay for whatever they did to you,” Rowan said darkly. The menace behind his tone told her that there was going to be a day of reckoning for her attackers at some point. And as much as she wanted to fight her own battles, issue her own punishment, Rowan could make them hurt a hell of a lot more.

“If you want to talk about it, we’ll listen,” Brennon said softly. “If you want to wait until later, until we’re safe, and have someone with a PhD there to help us…”

She laughed softly, and that allowed the words to flow. “Tweedledum didn’t like that he didn’t get a proper show. He started to lift my skirt, but I pulled it out of his hands. It ripped. That only served to piss him off more, so he tried to shove my corset down. The boning didn’t make it easy, but…” She tried to hold their gaze, but it faltered as she said the rest, her eyes drifting down to the floor. “They managed to get my breasts out. Started touching me. Pinched one of my…well…that was when we heard the crash, and they dragged me back out here.”

“Look at me,” Brennon said softly. Izabel lifted her gaze to his.

“We’re not going to let them win. Each of us is strong on our own, but the three of us together? We’re invincible.”

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