Page 155 of Three Irish Kings

Cillian’s laughing out loud at something Liam said while Liam is just staring at him.

I grit my teeth, panic climbing up my throat as I grab Cillian’s shoulder.

“We gotta go. Right now.”

“What? We’re not going anywhere. Isla is?—”

“Gone.”

Liam doesn’t even blink, so I’m not sure he’s even able to process what I’m saying.

Cillian just sits there, staring at me, and so I huff out a breath and heave Liam up into a standing position.

We careen toward the door, and Cillian stands up, finally helping me.

“Dare, what the fuck are you talking about? She can’t be gone?—”

“Cormac. It had to be Cormac,” I say hurriedly, frustrated. “They’ve been gone for a few hours; we have to find her.”

Cillian goes deathly pale, and Liam is in and out of consciousness.

Cillian and I manage to throw Liam into the back seat, and he groans but doesn’t even protest, which is how I know he’s really out of it.

“You’re not serious.”

“You can drive, right? Tell me you can drive.” There’s a pleading edge to my voice as I get into Liam’s passenger side.

Cillian finally snaps into action, getting into the driver’s side.

“I’m fine to drive. Tell me everything.” He starts the car, looking at me with haunted eyes. “Which way do I go?”

“Home,” I say quickly, and he takes off.

God, please let us find her before it’s too late.

Chapter Forty

LIAM

“Where doyou think he took her?”

“Where else?”

The voices come to me from very far away, and although I keep trying to open my eyelids, they are so heavy.

My stomach churns, but otherwise, I feel warm and happy, like when I’m lying in Isla’s arms after we make love.

I guess this is why people drink to excess. It does make me feel more than the ache in my chest, the hole in my stomach. Isla’s chosen Cillian, or at least... I think she has?

I don’t remember much after she told us she was going to have our baby. Wait...ourbaby? It can’t belong to all of us, can it?

Why can’t it?

Besides, does it matter? It’s not like Isla can belong to everyone either, but in a way, she already does.

I guess something’s wrong because Dare and Cillian seem to be arguing, the voices stressed.

I can’t seem to care. I’m floating on a cloud made of Irish whiskey and beer. I try to sit up, but my head spins.