Chapter 13
Thirteen
T he last couple of weeks replayed in Isobel's mind, a relentless montage of grim scenes and tense interviews. Dead bodies matching descriptions from three previous cases made her worried and sick. Then there was the task of piecing together the investigation of Emma Coltrane’s circle. Each person she questioned held their own secrets, but Andrew’s callous words haunted her the most.
When Kathy called Emma’s doctors to discuss her health, two oncologists immediately reached out. Both emphasized that, while the chemotherapy was harsh, remission and a cure were possible. Without treatment, however, or with the alternative methods Emma's mother was considering, Emma likely wouldn’t survive beyond four months.
Isobel knew what needed to be done. She dictated an urgent addendum to her report, recommending immediate custody be transferred to Emma’s father.
But now, in the quiet of her apartment, her thoughts drifted back to Brad. Ruth was right—he didn’t need to take her to dinner. Yet he did, and that smile of his, the one that made her stomach flutter, lingered in her mind. Brad wasn’t just handsome or effortlessly charming; he was something more. Her childhood crush on him had deepened over the years, turning into feelings far more profound. Adult feelings that scared her.
She wondered about the age gap again. He was forty. Should that matter? Tonight was more than just a meal—they’d shared parts of themselves. Brad wasn’t just a good guy; he was an exceptional one. And since the bodies were found in the lake, he’d been protective of her in a way that made her heart race.
His words echoed what she had read in her research: submission is not about weakness; it’s about choice, about the desire to give up control in a safe, consensual environment.
Was that her? Did she have those traits, those desires? The idea made her pulse quicken. She had always been drawn to structure, to feeling safe under someone’s guidance. Maybe Brad saw that in her too. Maybe that was why she found his openness about the lifestyle so… arousing.
Isobel sighed and tried to shake the thoughts from her head. She took a deep breath and stripped down, heading to the bathroom. She turned on the shower, and at first nothing happened. She turned on the faucets more fully.
Suddenly, a strange buzzing sound interrupted the calm. Isobel opened her eyes, her stomach lurching with dread. A swarm of angry yellow jackets poured from the shower head, filling the bathroom, surrounding her in a terrifying cloud of buzzing rage. Panic surged through her as the first stings perforated her skin, sharp bursts of pain that made her gasp.
The buzzing grew louder, more frantic as the bees attacked her relentlessly. Isobel screamed, the sound bouncing off the tile walls as she threw open the glass door and bolted from the shower, dripping wet. She slammed the bathroom door behind her in a desperate attempt to shield herself from the vicious swarm. But it was too late. The wasps crawled in her hair, over her back, across her breasts and on her face and lips, stinging her again and again. Her skin flared with pain, red welts rising across her body.
She’d been stung only once before and by a single bee, never like this. The sheer number of stings overwhelmed her. Her throat began to tighten, and her breaths came in short, shallow gasps. Her vision blurred as her eyelids swelled. She stumbled toward her phone, barely managing to dial 911 before collapsing to the floor.
Waverly Junction’s emergency services arrived quickly. No one had spoken to the operator—it was just an open phone line. The apartment door was locked. The fire department followed closely behind, led by Captain Jackson Reynolds—Olivia’s fiancé.
When he recognized the address, Jackson’s pulse pounded in his chest. “Break it down,” he ordered, his voice tight with worry.
Inside, the apartment was a scene of madness. The air hummed with the relentless buzzing of angry yellow jackets. Jackson ordered his team to back out to suit up in full protective gear. Finally, the paramedics were able to make their way inside. They found Isobel unconscious on the floor, her body swollen and covered in welts.
“Cap, we’ve got a serious situation,” the first paramedic called out. “She’s barely breathing.”
Another paramedic moved quickly, administering an epinephrine injection while firefighters did their best to clear the wasps from Isobel’s body. Her breathing was shallow, her non-stung skin an eerie shade of blue, and her lips swollen from the countless stings.
“We need to move—now!” one of the paramedics yelled as they lifted Isobel onto a stretcher.
The ambulance raced through the quiet night, sirens blaring as the paramedics worked to keep Isobel alive. Jackson, also a paramedic, was tense as he sat in the back of the ambulance. He made a call he didn’t want to make—to his fiancée about her sister. She would call the family.
As the ride continued, he monitored Isobel closely. “She’s crashing. Get the intubation kit ready. We need to secure her airway.” Things grew direr when her airway was too swollen for an attempt in the field.
At the hospital, the ER became a flurry of activity. Dr. Tristan Blackwell, Sophie’s fiancé and head of the ER, took charge as soon as the patient was wheeled in. His face was set in determination as he barked orders. “We need another IV line, antihistamines, and corticosteroids, stat. Prepare for intubation.” As he checked her airway, he realized it was Isobel. Soon the treatment room was filled with her family.
The medical team moved swiftly. Sophie, her eyes red from crying, watched in terror as her sister fought for her life. “Please, let her be okay. Please,” she whispered, gripping the counter for support.
Olivia stood beside her, trying to be the voice of reason. “She’s in good hands, Soph. Tristan knows what he’s doing.”
Minutes dragged on like hours. Despite their efforts, Isobel’s breathing worsened. Tristan exchanged a grim look with his team. “Get me the fiber optic scope. I need to intubate. Now.” Skilled from years of practice, Tristan carefully inserted the tube, holding his breath until it was in place.
“We’re in. Get her on the ventilator.”
An hour later, Isobel’s family gathered in the ICU waiting room, their faces etched with worry. Ruth stood slightly apart from the group, her arms crossed as she stared at the floor. Finally, she spoke up. “Did anyone call Brad?”
Molly looked confused. “Can’t it wait to a more reasonable hour? I don’t want to bother him.”
Ruth chewed her lip, glancing at Olivia before continuing, “They had dinner tonight.”
Olivia raised an eyebrow, already pulling out her phone. “I’ll call him. He’s been interested in her forever—he just hasn’t admitted it.”
The phone rang a few times before Brad answered, his voice groggy with sleep. “Hello? Liv? What’s wrong?”
“Brad, it’s about Izzy. She was attacked by a swarm of yellow jackets and went into anaphylactic shock. She’s in the ICU at Waverly County,” Olivia struggled to keep her voice steady.
There was a pause. Then Brad’s voice came back, sharp and alert. “I’m on my way.”
Forty minutes later, Brad burst into the ICU waiting room, his face pale and anxious. “Where is she? What happened?”
“She’s in the unit. They had to intubate her; she was stung by a swarm of yellow jackets,” Sophie explained softly.
“In her apartment? I need to see her,” Brad said, his voice tight with emotion.
After her immediate family took brief turns visiting her, Olivia led him to Isobel’s room. As they reached the door, Brad paused, looking at her with gratitude. “Thank you for calling me.”
Olivia smiled gently. “You’re family, Brad. Now, let’s make sure she gets through this.”
Brad stepped into the room, his breath catching as he saw Isobel lying in the hospital bed, her face swollen, a tube helping her breathe. He moved to her side, taking her hand in his. His heart pounded with fear and something deeper—something that had been building for years.
“I’m here, Belle,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m right here.”