Page 131 of Untamed

Eyes too wide, holding more hurt than she’s letting show. Lip raw from being chewed on. That flicker of defiance in her stance, even now, even after everything. And fuck me, I’ve never wanted to lie more in my life.

But for some bizarre reason, I can’t, not to her.

I stare at her and for a moment, I say nothing. Because I don’t even fucking know how to answer that. Not in a way that won’t make her run. Not in a way that won’t make herhateme.

The silence stretches too long, and she chews on her lip. I see the flicker of hurt flash behind her eyes, and it punches straight through my ribs.

But before she can speak again, I find my voice.

Rough. Low and brutally honest.

“You want to know who I am?”

I take a step closer, not to intimidate. Just enough to let her feel it. The weight of me. The storm I’ve tried to keep at bay every second she’s been in my life.

“I’m what happens when a boy is raised to be a blade instead of a son.”

My eyes drop for a second. Then rise again, locked on hers. “When every good part of him is carved out and replaced with silence, orders, and blood.”

Her lips part, but I don’t let her speak, not yet. “I’ve hurt people, Jordyn. I’vekilledpeople. Not from a distance. Not clean. I’velooked them in the eyes and made it slow because that’s what was asked of me. Because that’s what I was fucking made for.”

My voice tightens. “I’m not safe. I’m not kind. And I sure as hell am not the man you think you’ve seen. There isa lotof darkness in me, Jordyn.”

Her eyes shine, but she doesn’t back away. She doesn’tmove.

That’s what shatters me most.

“You know what people call me? Il Mietitore.The Reaper. Because I'm the last thing they see before their sins catch up to them.”

She’s still staring at me with an intensity that feels like it could slice through steel. Her breathing is heavy, each exhale a fraught whisper, while her hands are clenched tightly, as if she’s physically restraining the turmoil roiling within her.

Then her voice pierces the tension-filled air once more, lower now, frayed at the edges like an old tapestry unravelling.

“Are your family in the Mafia?”

I freeze. Stone fucking still.

Because that’s not just a question. That’sthequestion.

The one that could bring everything crashing down.

I don’t answer. I can’t form the fucking words to confirm nor deny.

Her breath catches, and she steps closer, the distance between us shrinking with each hesitant step. Her hands rise and press firmly against my chest, not with softness, but with a tremblingdetermination. They’re unsteady, quivering with emotion, yet the impact is powerful enough to feel like a physical blow.

“Don’t even think about lying to me or brushing it off, Ares.” Her voice quivers, teetering on the brink of breaking. “I need to hear you say it. I need to hear it fromyou.”

I part my lips, but words fail me, leaving only silence in their wake.

Because the truth isn’t simple, and it sure as hell isn’t clean.

But she doesn’t wait. Her hands curl into fists, and she shoves me hard.

“Say it! Tell me the truth!” Her voice breaks now, vibrating with a mix of rage and grief, raw and overwhelming. “Are you part of the mafia? Did my parents die because ofyourfamily?”

I wince visibly when my heart twists violently in my chest, a painful contortion that mirrors the turmoil in my mind.

How am I supposed to look her in the eyes and sayyes?How do I tell her that my family is the reason she and her sister are now orphans, when I know saying it out loud will only break her.

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