Page 126 of Untamed

No direction, no plan, just away. Away from the villa, from Bianca, from the echo of Luciano’s announcement still ringing in my ears.

By the time I realise where I am, I’m standing in the middle of town. The sun is too bright and beating down on me, the air too still. Tourists drift past me with gelato and shopping bags, completely unaware that my whole world just detonated.

I duck into a quiet café near the edge of the square, one with worn chairs and chipped tables that don’t match. I find a corner and order something I won’t drink.

And then I pull out my phone, pull up a search engine and type...

“Russo family Sicily.”

My finger taps the search button.

Nothing unusual.

Just polished websites. Corporate profiles. Charities and glossy interviews. A family business empire that spans wine, fashion, and luxury real estate and hotels.

The kind of presence that looks too perfect to touch.

Then I type, “Ares Russo.” And hit search.

Nothing new. No scandals. No tabloid mentions. No police records or mentions of arrests.

Just one photo, him in a tailored suit at some gala smoking a cigar, with Enzo by his side and Luciano in the background. They look… in every sense of the word...untouchable.

Clean.

A little too clean, if you ask me.

My stomach churns as I keep scrolling, digging for something,anything, that will validate the storm inside me. But there’s nothing. No cracks. No blood. No truth.

It’s like trying to scream in a soundproof room.

I sit back in my chair, phone dangling in my hand, heart pounding in my throat.

Either Bianca’s right… and this family is powerful enough to erase their sins from the surface of the world, or I’m losing my damn mind.

And I can’t figure out which is worse.

I do know one thing, though.

If I want answers, I’m not going to find it on the internet. I’m going to have to go straight to the source.

No more whispers. No more second-hand truths. No more trying to piece together something that doesn’t want to be found.

If Ares is the heartless monster Bianca says he is, then I need to look him in the eye and see it for myself.

I stand, heart thudding, legs shaky but moving.

The café falls away behind me. The sunlight turns colder. And every step back toward the estate feels heavier than the last.

Because I have no idea what I’m walking into.

Not really.

But my only saving grace, the only thing keeping my feet moving toward that wrought-iron gate, is the belief that Ares wouldn’t hurt me.

He would kill for me. Burn for me.

But he wouldn’thurtme.

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