Page 1 of Unleashed (Dark Sovereign #11)

EVERLY

Iwake to the sound of silence.

No gunfire. No screams. No blades overhead or boots on tile. Just the soft thrum of heat coming from somewhere behind the wall and the gentle sigh of my own breath echoing in the room.

My surroundings are a blur at first as I open my eyes. My head feels like it's packed with wool, and my body protests every twitch, every minor adjustment I make to lessen the discomfort.

No gunfire. No screams.

Isaia.

I bolt upright. Pain shoots down my side, and a gasp rips from my throat, lungs straining, chest burning. I’m sore—deep, bone-deep—and drenched in sweat. But there’s no urgency. No chaos. Just stillness.

My heart thrashes against my ribs like it doesn’t believe any of this is real.

Like it’s waiting for the chaos to blast through the walls.

White, unfamiliar walls, with windows draped in sage curtains, the fabric undisturbed.

There’s no tropical breeze, no whiff of ocean air.

And a bed that smells nothing like Isaia.

I’m not on the island anymore.

I blink hard, gripping the sheets like they’ll tell me where I am, but nothing comes. No memories. No thoughts creating a clear picture. But there’s this tight band around my chest, almost like it’s…remnants of panic and fear.

Disbelief.

“Anthony.” I breathe out his name like it’s a dream. A nightmare. Something in between. “He’s…he’s—”

“Everly?”

I freeze. My mind homed in on that familiar voice.

It can’t be.

Slowly, I turn, my heart beating impossibly fast. It’s when my eyes find him that my thoughts finally settle into a single reality. “You’re alive?”

He smiles, and it’s the warmest thing I’ve seen since…I can’t even remember. “Of course I’m alive.”

“But…” I narrow my eyes as I throw my feet off the bed. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“What? Dead?” He seems confused.

“Isaia.” I inch closer slowly, scared he’ll disappear, frightened I can’t trust…

whatever this is. “He said you were…” My breath hitches.

“He said you were dead.” I barely feel the tear trickling down my cheek.

I don’t want to think of anything else except that Anthony’s right here, standing in front of me. “He said…”

“Oh, Everly.” Abruptly, he reaches for me and pulls me against his chest, a thud sounding as he wraps his arms tightly around me.

And that’s when it starts to sink in, when his warmth envelops me, penetrating bone, that he’s alive.

He’s really alive. This isn’t a dream. This isn’t my fractured mind playing tricks on me. It’s really him.

Sobs break free as relief flows, memories flooding in—memories of him, of us, two teenagers with a bond that saved us both. A bond that helped me through the darkest days, a bond that kept reminding him that he’s not like the other men in our world.

“I thought I lost you,” I cry, winding my arms around his waist, holding tight so he won’t vanish.

“Shhh,” he comforts me, his fingers woven through my hair as he keeps me wrapped against him. “I’m here,” he murmurs. “Everything’s okay.”

“I can’t believe you’re here. You’re really here.” I look up at him, his familiar features washing over me. “He told me you were dead.” I push back, at arm’s length. “I saw you. I saw him shoot you. The blood. There was so much blood.”

That soul-breaking image bombards my mind, and it’s cracking me wide open all over again while Anthony stares at me with furrowed brows.

I choke on a sob. “I tried to get to you. I tried to help you, but I…he…God, Anthony, I…”

“Come on, Everly.” He pulls me close again, and I cry against his chest. “I’m alive. I’m here. And you’re safe now. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

My heart stammers as a weight crushes my chest. “Isaia,” I whisper. “Does he know you’re alive?”

Anthony stiffens, a dark energy vibrating from him. “Oh, he knows.”

I step back. “What?”

Anthony slides his fingers through his dark brown hair, two lines forming between his brows as he scowls.

“He and the entire Del Rossa family know I’m alive, Everly.

” I shake my head in disbelief, and he continues.

“We’ve been playing cat and mouse for months, ever since I woke up in that hospital, paralyzed but fucking desperate to get to you. ”

My breath leaves my lungs. “Paralyzed?”

“The bullet went straight through but nicked a nerve on its way out. Luckily, it was only temporary. With great doctors and a burning determination to save you, all I’m left with is a scar and a limp.”

I glance at his legs, and only then do I see the cane on the floor beside him. That was the thump.

He leans down and picks it up, his hand enclosing the sienna-colored handle, infused with black and amber swirls that create an elegant marble pattern. I’m hardly breathing as I stare at it, the fine silver collar resting between the handle and the dark beechwood shaft of the cane.

“I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing I can think of to say. “I’m so sorry, Anthony, I—”

“Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. You’re not the one who pulled the trigger.”

A pained gasp explodes from my lungs as the weight of what I had done slams into me. “I lied to you.” My words are hardly audible. “I lied…and you…now,” more tears stream down my face, “Anthony.”

“Stop.” He grabs my shoulders and pulls me close, pinning my cheek to his chest. “None of this is your fault. None of it.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me? Why would he…” Oh, God. Isaia lied. He knew Anthony was alive and didn’t tell me. Why…why would he do that?

“I tried to get to you,” Anthony murmurs, not letting go. “I turned this fucking world around to find you, but he…that bastard seemed one step ahead all the fucking time.”

My mind is on the verge of exploding, my thoughts running rampant as I try to make sense of it all but failing miserably. “I don’t understand. Why would he lie?”

“He’s a Del Rossa, Everly—” so am I “—they do whatever the fuck they want, no matter who they hurt. They lie and cheat—”

My pulse quickens. “No.” I let go of him, taking a step back…and then another. “There has to be a reason he lied. He wouldn’t just—”

“What? Lie to you? Kidnap you? Kill people in a goddamn church?”

The blood in my veins turns cold. “He didn’t kidnap me.”

Anthony’s eyes narrow. “So, he didn’t carry you out of that church? He didn’t force you into the car? Drug you?”

My heart stops. “How do you—”

“Like I said, searching for you was a goddamn inferno that wouldn’t stop raging until I saw you step out of that helicopter.

” His expression turns dark, lines of —Pain?

Anger?—painting themselves down the edges of his face.

“I have seen things. Done things I’m not proud of, things that’ll haunt me for a long time, but all I cared about was finding you.

When I found out about that island, by God, Everly, I couldn’t get there fast enough. ”

The memory punches through me like a blade. The gunfire. The bodies. The chaos. The cold walls of the safe room. Isaia’s searing kiss before he left, leaving the echo of his promise to keep me safe. Something sharp punctures my lungs, and strength drains from my bones. “Where is he?” I whisper.

“I don’t know. And I don’t care.”

“Anthony, is he alive?”

He gives me this look like he can’t believe I’m asking. “Are you serious?”

“Is he alive, Anthony?” I demand, panic coating my words. If something happened to him, if Isaia is dead…I won’t survive it. Just the thought extracts every ounce of life from my veins.

He licks his lips, sucking the bottom one into his mouth, his knuckles white as he clutches the cane. “Yes,” he snaps. “He’s alive. Unfortunately.”

The relief that floods me is an entity all on its own.

It’s overwhelming, crashing into me with such force that I take a step back to ground myself.

Tentatively, I reach out to lean on the nearby dresser, my fingers pressing into the wood as if it's the only thing anchoring me. Thank God he’s still alive.

“You look relieved,” he says, his words poison-laced.

“Of course, I am,” I reply truthfully. “I don’t want anyone to die for me.”

I expect a stabbing response from him, a sarcastic reminder that I thought he was dead for months. But then I remember that’s not something he would say. It’s something Isaia would.

Visibly, he takes a breath, his shoulders rolling back as he loosens his grip on the cane. “You need to eat something. You’ve been out for a long time.”

“Where are we?” I glance around the unfamiliar room.

“New York.” He places the foot of his cane on the hardwood floor. “And before you ask, I didn’t drug you. You passed out when you saw me after getting off that helicopter. I thought it was exhaustion,” his eyes soften, “but now I know it was shock. Seeing someone you thought was dead.”

I pull a hand through my hair, pacing to the window. “You have no idea how many emotions are currently jostling for dominance in my mind,” I say, staring at the cityscape, the sun hanging low.

“You—”

“It’s my fault,” I blurt, not looking back at him. “All of it.”

“It’s not. It’s him, Everly. All of this is because of him.”

This time, I turn to face him. “I lied to you. I made you think I was in danger from Isaia so you would marry me.”

All he does is stare back at me, giving me a fair chance to say what I need to.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I lied to you because I knew you’d keep your promise to me. That you would never marry me if you knew Michele was blackmailing me.”

He’s features harden. “Blackmailing?”

My ribs lock around my chest, and I wrap my arms around myself as I sit on the bed, afraid my legs might fail me.

“He threatened my mom, Anthony. Said if I didn’t marry you, he would let my mom believe her cancer was terminal,” Anthony curses, “that no amount of chemotherapy will be able to save her.”

“Jesus,” he mutters and takes a seat next to me.

“My mom was already doubting whether she wanted to go through with the chemo, and I couldn’t—” I choke on a sob as he gently folds his fingers around my hand.

“I didn’t want to lose her, and if she thought it was terminal, she never would have gotten the help she needed.

I had to lie to you, and I’m so sorry, Anthony. I’m so—”

“All this time,” he starts, staring at the floor, “you thought I was dead, and you…you blamed yourself?”

Tears erupt, all the guilt and the grief—now relief—tornadoes through my soul, and it hurts, everything fucking hurts, and I don’t know how to make it stop.

“Jesus Christ, Everly.” He folds an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him. “That motherfucker let you believe I was dead, knowing you blamed yourself. I’m going to kill him. I swear to God, I’m going to rip his fucking heart out.”

Through the tears, I shake my head against him. “He had to have had a reason he didn’t tell me.”

“Everly—”

“I refuse to believe he lied to me without a good reason for doing so.” I glance up at Anthony. “I have to see him.”