Page 60 of Stolen Faith

“Should I manfully hold still, or can I say ow?” Brennon asked as she wiped blood and dirt off his face.

She turned his face to the single light fixture, a flat, round fluorescent fixture that was almost flush with the ceiling and didn’t give off much light.

“You can say ow.”

“Owwwww,” Brennon moaned comically.

Izabel smiled. She was so glad he was here. So glad they both were.

Her breath caught, emotion swamping her. They were here…because of her. They’d been hurt…because of her.

“Hey, hey, Iza. What’s that face?” Brennon was cupping her elbows, crouching a little so he could catch her gaze. “Iza?”

She couldn’t say anything, the words wouldn’t come because she couldn’t get in enough air.

“Rowan,” Brennon said slowly.

Then Rowan’s face was beside Brennon’s, their cheeks almost touching as they looked at her. Brennon’s brows were drawn together but raised, his lips tight in an expression of worry. Rowan’s features weren’t as obviously stamped with emotion. His brows were beetled in a look that could have been concentration rather than worry, but she could see the concern in his eyes.

Izabel put her hands on their cheeks, one on each of her guys, these men who would be her husbands.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“Sorry?” Rowan rumbled.

“Why are you sorry?” Brennon asked at the same time.

“It’s my fault you’re here.”

“What are you talking about? No, it’s not.”

“It is.” Izabel dropped her hands and backed up, leaning wearily against the wall. The concrete was cold against her bare shoulder blades. “They were watching me. Watching my family. If you’d been married to someone else—”

“We’re all members of the Trinity Masters,” Rowan said.

“Exactly,” Brennon agreed. “It’s not exactly a case of mistaken identity. They were looking for members of the Trinity Masters and they got us.”

“Yes, but they got you two because of me. Because I was easy to identify as a member. And I brought you to my home instead of the hotel. If we’d been at the hotel, maybe—”

“Izabel.” Rowan’s voice was hard. “Breathe.”

Izabel closed her eyes at his words and inhaled slowly. At least she tried to. She couldn’t get the air in. Her stomach muscles trembled, her throat tight. She tried again, ribs expanding against the boning of the dress.

She sucked in air, but though she inhaled, it felt like nothing was happening. She took another quick breath, panic clawing at her.

Rowan was there, hands on her arms. He was saying something, but her ears were ringing.

Brennon hovered behind him, eyes wide with worry. Their voices were muffled, as if she was hearing them from underwater.

Underwater.

Can’t breathe. You’re helpless. Drowning.

Izabel shook her head, hair lashing her face. There was something she was supposed to do. Something that had worked to make it not last so long, but the panic made it hard to think. She stared at Rowan, desperate to remember, trying to hear his words through the muffled ringing in her ears.

Then Brennon was there, his hands on her cheeks, cupping her head. She stared at him, short, panicked breaths making her chest rise and fall.

Brennon sealed his mouth over hers and kissed her. But he didn’t just kiss her, he breathed into her mouth. The surprise of the kiss, coupled with him forcing air into her lungs, short-circuited the panic attack.

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