Page 102 of Untamed

Matteo’s hands trailing along her skin. Her lips pressing against his like they used to press against me. I watched. I let them touch. Then I let rage rot me from the inside out, and I unleashed it on someone else.

One gloved hand clamps the throttle; the other yanks my phone from my jacket pocket, fingers slick with my own blood. I jab at the screen. Dante answers before the first ring finishes. “Boss?”

“I’ve been shot,” I grit out, teeth clenched tight against the throb in my shoulder. “Get Doctor Ricci to the manor. Now.”

A beat of silence. Then, steel. “Where are you?”

“En route. Fifteen minutes. Make sure the back entrance is cleared. No staff. No eyes.”

“Anyone follow?”

“Not anymore.”

I hang up.

The road curves hard and I lean into it, shoulder screaming. Every bump sends a jolt through my ribs. My vision tunnels, but I don’t slow down. I can’t.

The sky is bruising at the edges now. That limbo between night and dawn where the world is half asleep and half dangerous.

I ride straight through it, a blur of leather and fury.

The Ducati devours that liminal space, a black blur devouring the horizon. When the iron gates of the Russo estate heave into view, my shirt is a soaked canvas of blood, gloves sticking to my palms. The bike growls, a pleading beast, but I offer no mercy. Not until the gates part for me and the back drive opens up.

And even then, I don’t stop.

Because pain means nothing to me anymore.

Not when the only thing I feel is the echo of her kiss…and the hollow place she left behind.

The deep, resonant hum of the motorcycle pulls me from sleep. It’s a sound I know all too well, low, profound, and unsettlingly familiar. I sit up abruptly, my heart pounding in my chest, the blanket slipping from my shoulders as I peer into the inky darkness. The manor is cloaked in silence, but that sound, that unmistakable, throaty growl of the Ducati, vibrates through the floor like a distant, ominous warning.

Ares.

I’m already up, moving silently across the room, my bare feet feather light against the cold floor as I approach the window. Moonlight spills across the yard, casting ethereal silverbands over the gravel drive, illuminating the night with an otherworldly glow.

And then I see him.

He’s walking toward his villa, his body tilted slightly to one side. One arm hangs lower than the other, like it’s been weighed down. But it’s his vest that makes my breath hitch, a stark grey canvas now marred with blood, dark and viscous, seeping through the fabric like ink spreading across a page.

I press my fingers against the cool glass, my breath misting the pane with a fragile, fleeting cloud. He doesn't stumble or falter. He walks on with an eerie calmness, composed and collected, as if he hasn't just arrived on the brink of collapse. As if bleeding is merely a mundane part of his existence.

The porch light flickers on as he reaches the door. Without a pause, he slips inside, the heavy door closing behind him, like a secret slammed shut.

My pulse races wildly.

What in the world happened to him?

I should go back to bed. Pretend I didn’t see anything. Pretend I’m not standing here like a lunatic with my heart in my throat and a hundred questions clawing at my chest.

But I can’t.

Because something tells me… whatever he just walked away from...it wasn’t the kind of night one walks away from unscathed.

And no matter how often or gravely he warns me to keep my distance...I just can’t. Especially when I can see he’s hurt.

Before I can stop myself, I’m pulling my satin night gown over the matching satin nightdress, and I’m sneaking through the eerie and still hallways of the manor until I reach the back door. I slide it open, just enough to slip out and close it quietly behind me. In my haste, I forgot to put my shoes on, so I feel the rough gravel biting into the soles of my feet as I cross the ground toward Ares’s place.

Every step I take closer feels like a betrayal of his trust, but the need to know consumes me. The door to his villa stands before me, a barrier between safety and the unknown. I hesitate for a moment, picturing his stoic expression as he disappeared inside moments ago.

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