Page 13 of Unleashed (Dark Sovereign #11)

With anger pulled taut and rage strapped tight, the tip of my blade presses under his jaw, right where soft flesh meets bone. I apply pressure, slow—so fucking slow—savoring the way his skin dimples, stretches, then gives with a wet, tearing kiss of steel.

His eyes bulge. Wide. Wild. Bloodshot. He’s choking before I even hit anything vital. His mouth falls open, slack and trembling, a silent scream trapped in his throat as the blade keeps going—inch by agonizing inch—angling up toward the soft roof of his mouth.

His lips quiver. His teeth clench, but they can’t stop it. Can’t stop me.

I feel the scrape of metal against cartilage.

Hear the wet pop as I breach through into the soft tissue above.

His gurgling starts as a stutter—then becomes a gargled symphony of failure and death.

Thick ropes of blood flood his mouth, spilling where his tongue should be, leaking from his lips, coating my hand as I keep pushing, watching his pupils dilate, flicker, fade.

His body jerks, a pathetic twitch, as the life seeps out of him in hot, stuttering bursts. But I don’t stop. Not until I feel the final shudder roll through him. Not until his eyes glaze, frozen wide in a look of shock and fear of finally meeting the devil.

I close my eyes, letting an image of her face into my head, allowing my soul to absorb the last violent vestiges of Ryan's life. With a deep inhale of breath, I finally extract the blade, ripping it from him, and viscous streams of blood patter onto the concrete like the ticking of a clock.

Time’s up.

For him.

Satisfaction hums in my veins as I clean the blade against my leather jacket, then stomp out, and Maximo falls into step beside me as we exit the warehouse.

“Feeling better now?”

I roll my shoulders. “Yeah.”

“You gonna go get her now?”

“Not yet.”

I slide into the driver's seat of the SUV when Maximo appears just as I try to close the door. “I ain’t letting you drive.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because right now you’re one crazy motherfucker, and I value my life, fuck you very much. Now get out. I’m driving.”

There’s still an inkling of sanity left, which is why I climb out of the car, but I scoff and purposely bump into his shoulder just to prove a point—point being…because I can.

Maximo starts the car as I slam the passenger door shut, and I lean back against the headrest. Every breath without her is a fucking war.

I can still hear her screams. Clear as the night they dragged her to that helicopter.

Her voice, raw, panicked, cutting through the gunfire, through the chaos, through the fucking storm roaring in my ears.

I was halfway across the goddamn courtyard, bullets slamming into the stone walls around me, when they shoved her inside.

I tried to reach her. God, I fucking tried. But they had her inside before I made it, and I couldn’t chance shooting at them; the risk of a bullet hitting her was too great.

When that helicopter lifted, blades kicking up sand, something flipped in me. A switch. A wire. A fuse. Whatever humanity was left.

I remember the first man I grabbed. The way his windpipe caved under my boot.

The crack of another guy’s skull when it hit the stone.

How another’s blood sprayed my face when I slit his throat from ear to ear.

His friend tried to run, but he didn’t get far.

Took three bullets to the spine before I put my knife through his eye.

I hunted every last one of Anthony’s men who stayed behind. No survivors. Not one.

Some begged. Others fought. None of it mattered. They were all dead the second they touched her.

Talon had to drag me off the last body. I was elbow-deep in his chest cavity, carving out his heart like it owed me answers. That rage? It never left. I still wake up with the copper sting of blood in my nose.

“When are you going to stop kidding yourself?” Maximo eyes me before he takes a turn onto the highway.

“What are you talking about?”

“You and I both know it’s only a matter of time before you go to New York to get her. So why delay the inevitable?”

I clutch the vial at my neck, hearing her voice saying ‘I do’ over and over. Her blood is still warm in my mind. Still alive. Still mine. “I’m giving her space.”

Maximo snorts. “Space? Are you serious?”

“As a fucking heart attack. Besides,” I pull my palm down my face, “we have no idea what we’re up against with our copycat psychopath. It’s probably best to keep her as far away from me as possible.”

“At least we agree on something.” He switches on the music, some hard metal shit blasting through the speakers. “But—”

“Oh, here we go.” I roll my eyes.

“After what I just saw, my guess is the more space you give her, the more unhinged you’ll get.”

I slam my fist into the dash, not even registering the pain. “I’m trying,” I clench out. “I’m fucking trying.”

“Listen, if you’re so hellbent on giving her this space you think she needs, you gotta be careful.

If you’re not…you’ll be too far gone by the time she’s ready to come back to you.

” Maximo’s knuckles flex on the wheel as he takes a sharp right, sunlight slashing across his face.

“I get it. And I think you’ve got balls trying to be better and all…

just don’t lose yourself while doing it, okay? ”

I grind my teeth.

“Okay?” He snaps his gaze to me, and I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Okay,” I say, clenching my fists.

“Good. There’s no use in trying to be a better man only to turn into something she won’t recognize.”

And that right there is the kicker. I was a monster before I met her, then I became her monster. But if tonight proved anything, it’s that without her…

…I’m something far worse.