Page 179 of Untamed

I shake my head and press a kiss to her temple. “Don’t apologise.”

Her hand slips into mine, fingers cold but firm. And for a moment, we just sit there in the crumbling bones of a house neither of us belongs to, and somehow, it feels like the safest place in the world.

Jordyn leans into me, her breath slowly evening out, but her skin is still pale, too pale. The cold edge of worry scrapes at the inside of my chest.

I study her for a moment, then ask, low and firm, “Have you eaten today?”

She blinks up at me. “…No.”

Of course not.

I exhale through my nose and run a hand down my face. “Jesus, Jordyn.”

“I wasn’t hungry this morning,” she says, like that’s a valid excuse. “And then Bianca questioning me and everything with the appointment?—”

I’m already standing, already helping her up.

“That’s enough,” I mutter, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her. “You’re not staying here another second like this.”

“Where are we going?”

“To get food,” I say, guiding her toward the bike. “Someplace better than this wreck.”

She doesn’t argue.

Her head rests lightly against my shoulder as we walk, and I feel the faint tremble in her body. She’s trying to be strong, still pretending she’s fine.

But I know better. I always know when someone’s about to fall apart, I’ve just never cared this much before.

The road curves along the cliffside, the ocean unfurling beneath us like a living thing, restless, wild, endless. Jordyn’s arms are wrapped around me again, her body warm against my back, but she doesn’t hold as tightly as before.

She’s tired. I can feel it in the way she leans into me.

It’s not far. Just outside town. Hidden and quiet.

The café sits at the edge of the world, or it feels that way. Tucked into a cove of sun-bleached stone, with a small terrace that overlooks the sea. There’s no sign, no flashy entrance. Justa weather-worn door and the scent of bread and lemons riding the breeze.

I park the bike and kill the engine. Jordyn climbs off slowly, and I catch her hand without thinking.

She glances around, eyes wide. “Ares, this place is beautiful…”

I nod once. “My mother used to bring me here.”

Her gaze softens, and for a second, she doesn’t say anything. “I’ve always come here alone, until now,” I add, and Jordyn smiles.

I open the door, letting her walk in first. The owner, an old man named Vince, looks up from behind the counter. His eyes narrow for a beat, then widen.

“Ares.Dio mio. You’re alive.”

“Still breathing,” I answer. “And hungry.”

He chuckles and waves us toward a table near the window. The one my mother always claimed, overlooking the water, just close enough to hear the waves crashing against the rocks below.

We sit. No menus. Vincenzo already knows what to bring. Jordyn turns her face toward the breeze, eyes closing for a moment, and she draws in a long breath.

“Why did she love this place?” she asks quietly. I rest my forearms on the table, watching her.

“Because no one knew her here. She could just… be.”

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