Page 76 of Unleashed
“Isaia, no!” My nails dig into Luna’s fur, and she whines softly under my touch. “No, you don’t get to just decide. Not again. Not for me. Not for Molly.”
The silence that follows is suffocating. Heavy. Isaia grips the wheel harder. Anthony stares out the window again, jaw clenched, a vein throbbing in his temple.
The SUV swerves into the private airstrip, headlights catching the sleek silhouette of a waiting jet.
They’re really going to do it. They’re going to drag me onto that plane and rip me away from Molly when she needs me most.
The car jerks to a stop, and Isaia kills the engine.
“Out,” he orders.
I don’t move.
He throws open his door and comes around to mine, yanking it wide before I can lock it. His hand clamps around my wrist, pulling me out, and helps me steady. Luna leaps out after me, nails skidding on the asphalt, barking once in protest.
“We’re leaving.” Isaia leans down, his face inches from mine, his voice deadly calm over the noise of the plane’s engines. “Now.”
“You promised.” I look him in the eye. “You promised I’d get to decide what happens next. Are you really going to take that away from me again?”
His grip falters, just slightly.
I twist toward Anthony, who’s just managed to get out with his cane, his expression unreadable.
“Both of you? Are you both going to take my freedom to choose?Again?”
Anthony’s lips press into a thin line, and Isaia swears under his breath, the sound tearing out of him like he’s ripping himself apart. He releases my wrist so abruptly, it stings.
“Goddammit, troublemaker. Why can’t you just get on that fucking plane?”
“Because it’s not right, and you know it.”
“Jesus!” He kicks at the asphalt, the crack of his boot against the pavement echoing across the hangar lot, then drags both hands through his hair, fingers knotting there, gripping hard enough to hurt.
The war inside him is written in every line of his body. His need to protect me—protectus—is a living, breathing thing, snarling to get its way. But layered beneath it is fear. Raw, bone-deep fear that if he pushes me too far, if he cages me one more time, I’ll be gone. Not because of an enemy with a knife or a gun, but because of him.
“Everly…” His voice cracks like glass under pressure. “Do you have any idea what it does to me, knowing that man out there has his hands on your best friend—knowing he took her to lureyou? Do you?” His chest rises and falls like he’s sprinted miles, but his feet are rooted in place. “I can’t—I won’t—watch him get to you. Not you. I’d rather fucking die.”
The confession rips out of him like it’s been festering for months, and his eyes burn with a desperation that makes my own throat close. He paces, fists clenching, unclenching, like he’s fighting a battle with no weapon in reach.
Anthony finally speaks, quiet but sharp. “Let her choose.”
“Fuck that.”
“I’m serious, Isaia. She needs this. She needs you to let her choose.”
Isaia’s glare is lethal, but only for a moment. Because even as his lips curl, his chest caves, something heartbreakingly vulnerable flashing in those dark irises.
“I promised I’d never take your choice from you again.” His throat works as he swallows, his hands flexing at his sides, like they’re itching to drag me into the plane and lock the door. “But if your choice puts you in harm’s way, Everly, what am I supposed to do? Just stand by and let you do it?”
It’s all there in his eyes—the love, the affection, the fear, the need to protect what he loves. Me. Us.
And God, I love him for it.
I love the way his passion bleeds into everything he touches, even when it burns too hot, even when it scorches. I love the ferocity that simmers under his skin, the part of him that refuses to apologize for loving me too much, too hard, too wildly. He never tries to dim it, never pretends he’s anything but a man on fire. And that fire? It’s what drew me in from the start.
The darkness he carries doesn’t frighten me. It captivates me. Because beneath the violence, beneath the sharp edges and bloody hands, is the same man who kisses my belly like it’s holy. The same man who whispersmineagainst my skin with reverence. The same man who loves me with a devotion so absolute it borders on ruin.
“I know,” I whisper, my voice trembling as I walk up to him. “I know what this is doing to you. I know that your need to protect me is stronger than anything else you’re feeling right now, and I love you for it.” Placing my palm on his cheek, I watch as he closes his eyes for a breath, like my touch grounds him. “But I’m asking you, please do not expect me to run when someone I care about needs me. Not again.”
