The following three days were a masterclass in psychological torture. Isabella didn't leave Dante's side. She sat in the library while Anna worked, reading books and making snide comments about Anna's "lack of grace." She insisted on taking her meals with Dante, forcing Anna to serve them alongside Mrs. Halloway so she could be humiliated in front of him.
But the most toxic part was Dante himself.
He allowed Isabella to linger. He didn't touch her, but he didn't cast her out. He used her presence as a shield, a way to overcompensate for the moment of weakness he had felt for Anna. He became colder to Anna, his "teasing" becoming sharper, more demeaning.
"The coffee is cold, Anna," he snapped during a late-night session, Isabella draped over the sofa behind him. "If you can't manage a simple task, perhaps Isabella is right. Perhaps you belong in the kitchens after all."
Anna's hand trembled as she took the cup. She looked at him, searching for the man who had cleaned her wounds and held her in the dark, but he was gone. There was only the Tyrant.
She fled the library, her heart feeling like it had been shredded. She ran toward the garden, needing to breathe air that didn't smell like Isabella's jasmine.
"Anna!" a voice called out from the shadows near the East Gate.
It was Leo. He looked more stressed than ever, his eyes darting toward the manor. "I saw her arrive. Isabella is bad news, Anna. She's been talking to the guards, asking which ones are 'loyal' to the old ways. She's making a move."
"I don't care about her move, Leo," Anna choked out, a tear finally escaping. "I just want to leave. Now. Tonight."
Leo stepped into the light, his face full of concern. He reached out and took her hands. "The boat is moved up. Tomorrow night. 3:00 AM. I have the key to the sea-gate. But you have to be ready. If he catches us... Anna, he'll kill us both."
"He's already killing me," she whispered.
"I know," Leo said, his voice soft. He leaned in, his forehead touching hers. For a moment, she allowed herself to feel the comfort of his presence. He was safe. He was kind. He was everything Dante wasn't. "Just hold on for twenty-four more hours. I'll get you to the mainland. We'll disappear."
Anna nodded, her resolve hardening. She would leave this island of shadows. She would leave the man who treated her like a toy.
But as she walked back toward the house, her skin still prickled with the memory of Dante's presence. She realized with a terrifying jolt that she wasn't just running from him.
She was jealous.
Every time Isabella touched his arm, every time they shared a silent look, Anna felt a white-hot rage that she couldn't explain. She hated Isabella because Isabella had a right to be there, and she hated Dante because he was letting her stay.
The slow burn had turned into a poison, and it was flowing through her veins, clouding her judgment. She told herself she was leaving for freedom, but as she looked up at the library window, she knew the truth: she was running because if she stayed, the jealousy would consume her entirely.