Page 8 of Unleashed (Dark Sovereign #11)

A sharp wheeze breaks free and suddenly everything’s spinning, and my lungs seize, chest rising in shallow, jerky attempts to suck in air that won’t come.

I double over, heart hammering like it’s trying to escape my rib cage, fingers trembling as I claw at the sheets, my throat, the space around me—anything to anchor me.

Then arms wrap around my shoulders, pulling me back from the edge.

“Everly—fuck, look at me. You’re having an attack.”

Anthony?

There’s a click, the familiar rattle of plastic, and the cool press of the inhaler against my lips.

One burst. Then another, and it hits my lungs like a rush of ice, shocking my system into responding.

Air returns in shallow, painful sips, and I cling to them like lifelines, the panic slowly peeling back as the world steadies beneath me.

“Just breathe.”

I glance at Anthony sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes wide, worry lines creasing between his brows. “What—”

“Don’t speak.” He gently eases a strand of hair away from my face. “Just take a few steady breaths.”

It was all a nightmare. The blood. His voice. Him. It wasn’t real.

Replacing the panic is this crushing sorrow that forces tears to the surface, and Anthony reaches for me, pulling me close into his chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

I nestle deeper into him, quiet tears trickling down my cheeks.

“When I heard you scream, I almost had a fucking heart attack.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You have to stop doing that.” His fingers weave through my hair as he rocks back and forth. “Apologizing for something that’s not your fault.”

I nod into his chest, still trying to breathe past the tightness coiled in my ribs. “It felt so real,” I whisper. “He was there… touching me… and then—” My voice breaks. “He changed. His face… everything changed.”

Anthony’s arms tighten around me. “It was just a nightmare.”

“I know,” I rasp, but it doesn’t help. “But it felt so real. It…it felt exactly like him…until it wasn’t.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Maybe it was.” His tone is low, careful. “Maybe that nightmare was your body remembering what your mind’s trying to ignore.”

I lean back, just enough to see his face. “You think I’m foolish for loving him?”

“I think you’re confused.” His gaze remains steady. “You’ve been through hell. You’ve been manipulated and isolated. And now you’re clinging to the only thing that made you feel…secure.”

Easing away from him, I lean back against the velvet headboard. “Secure?”

Inhaling deep, his gaze swipes along the room without focusing on a single thing, like he’s either searching for the right words or trying to stop himself from speaking at all.

“Everly,” he starts, eyes finally finding mine, “all you’ve ever wanted was security.

Stability. Because your parents? They didn’t give that to you.

Not even fucking close.” I swallow hard.

“The time you spent on that island with him, just the two of you, it gave you a false sense of that.”

“I don’t—”

“Just think about it for a minute. While you were on that island, there was no outside influence. No distractions. No threat of it changing or being taken away from you—that you knew of,” he adds.

“He made sure you thought I was dead, made sure you didn’t find out that I was actually alive and tearing the world apart looking for you because he knew if he could give you the one thing you need above everything else, he would be able to control you.

” His gaze drifts off to the side, like he’s staring into his thoughts. “And that’s my fault.”

I still, narrowing my eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

Roughing his hand through his disheveled hair, the white tee he slept in creased, he sighs. “That night, he invited me to Myth to warn me to stay away from you. I told him that he doesn’t know you like I do. That he can’t give you what you need—the one thing you yourself don’t even know you need.”

“Stability,” I say softly.

“Yeah.” He wipes a palm down his face, then moves back on the bed to face me, taking both my hands. “Remember that night we snuck out to the diner?”

“The night you ordered the peanut butter milkshake?”

A half-smile curls at the edges of his mouth. “Yeah. You told me that one day you’ll be able to leave New York, get away from Michele and your mother. And when you do, you’ll make sure you’re never trapped again. That you’ll always have a way out. Always free.”

“I remember.”

“You also said that you’ll never make the same mistake your mother made. That people who desperately search for stability—”

“—make wrong choices,” I whisper, my voice fading into silence as cold, brutal reality sinks in.

Anthony squeezes my hands. “Exactly.”

Is that what I did?

Did I confuse Isaia’s obsession with safety? His control for comfort?

I close my eyes and suddenly I’m back on that island—the warm sun, the sound of waves crashing against rocks, the way he’d cook for me, touch me like I was breakable and holy and his. I told myself it was freedom. But maybe it was just another cage… just painted prettier.

“He made me feel… safe,” I admit. “Like nothing could touch me while I was his.”

“While you were his,” he says sharply. “Not yours. Not your own person. Not someone with choices or a voice. Just his.”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes again, but I blink them away. “No.” I shake my head, pulling my hands from his. “What Isaia and I have, it can’t be—”

“Built on lies?” He stands, flinching as he leans too heavily on his weak leg, then holds his arm out wide.

“Here I am, Everly. The biggest fucking lie your husband’s ever told.

Standing right here. Living, breathing, fucking limping,” he frowns, “and you wanna tell me you can’t believe that your relationship with him was built on lies? ”

“I didn’t know,” I choke out, standing now too, as if movement can keep the truth from swallowing me whole. “I didn’t know he lied to me. Not then.”

“But you know now, and yet you’re still holding on to hope that somehow you’ll be able to justify what he did.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” His voice cuts sharp. “He drugged you. Locked you away on an island—”

“I wasn’t locked up.”

“But it was still a cage. Goddammit, Everly! Don’t you see that? Just because he didn’t make you wear chains doesn’t mean he didn’t hold you captive.”

“What is it that you want from me?” I shout. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to stop defending him like he didn’t ruin your fucking life.”

“I’m not—” I shove my fingers into my hair, clutching at my scalp like I can rip the confusion out by force. “I’m not defending…” The words die, the lie choking halfway up my throat.

But I am.

God, I am.

My voice splinters under the weight of it. “I just… I thought I was trying to understand, but—” My breath hitches, and I look at Anthony like he has the answer.

His features soften, green eyes warm with something akin to empathy. “You’ve been trying to make it make sense so you don’t have to admit how wrong it all was.”

Silence falls like a guillotine. Sharp. Irrevocable. And I step back, my heart carved through the middle and split open. “He loves me,” I whisper, but I’m not sure who I’m saying it to. “Isaia loves me.”

“I’m sure he does.” Anthony steps closer, leaning most of his weight on his left leg. “You’re beautiful. You’re smart. Kind. And you’re one of the strongest people I know. What’s not to love? But to him, love is control. It’s something he can mold and bend into something he wants it to be.”

Warm wetness trickles down my cheek in a steady stream of heartache. “I love him, too.” My lips quiver. “I love him so much, it hurts. I can’t…” Fuck. I lick the saltiness from my lips. “I can’t imagine my life without him.”

“Answer me one thing. While you were on that island with him, did he ever—just once—ask you what you want?” Anthony’s voice breaks. “Or did he just decide for you?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. It’s like something inside me caves in.

My breath hitches, and I stumble back a step like his words struck something vital in me. “I don’t know,” I whisper. “I don’t fucking know…”

Pain fractures through my chest. Not just emotional.

It’s something deeper, something physical, but I have no idea where it’s coming from.

A sob tears free before I can swallow it down, and I hug my arms around myself, like maybe if I hold tight enough, I can keep all the shattered pieces from spilling out.

Anthony takes a step forward, voice softer now. “Everly—”

The room starts to spin, my stomach pulled taut with a spasm that doubles me over, and I collapse. My knees hit the carpet with a thud, palms slapping down, but it’s the white-hot fire tearing through my abdomen that steals the breath from my lungs.

“Everly?” Anthony rushes toward me.

Another wave slams into me—sharper this time, like something twisting, grinding from the inside out.

“I—” My mouth opens on a gasp. “I don’t know what’s happening.” Then I feel it. Something warm. Wet. Wrong.

I glance down, and the front of my nightgown clings to my thighs, dark and soaked with blood.

“No…” My voice is a ghost. Barely there. “No, no—what is—”

Anthony drops to his knees beside me. “Oh fuck. Everly, you’re bleeding. Jesus.”

His arms go around me as I slump forward, barely upright. “It hurts.” My stomach clenches again, another blinding jolt making me cry out. And I don’t understand. “What’s happening?”

I hear Anthony’s panicked voice, yelling for an ambulance, but the sound starts to fade, like I’m underwater. And beneath the agony—beneath the terror—something tells me this is more than pain. It’s loss.

And it’s already too late.