Page 184 of Untamed

“No,” Ares says, tucking the gun out of sight. “If I was going to kill him, I wouldn’t have let you watch.”

He doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t flinch, just says, “We’re leaving.”

“But—”

“Non discutere, Jordyn.”Don’t argue, Jordyn.

I don’t. Not when his voice sounds like that. Not when his grip tightens like he’s holding something far more fragile than my wrist, like he’s holding the thread of his own control.

When we reach the bike, he hands me the helmet and cups the back of my head, pressing his forehead to mine for just a second. Just long enough to whisper, “If I find out someone touched you with so much as a look, I’ll put them in the ground.”

Then he swings onto the bike. And I climb on behind him, arms wrapping around his waist, my heart hammering against his back.

Whoever it was, whoever had the nerve to put a tail on us, they don’t know what they've just done.

Because Ares Russo might lose his temper.

But he never loses twice.

The engine cuts out, and silence rushes in to fill the space between us.

We’re still. The sun hangs low now, casting long shadows across the estate, making the wrought iron gates behind us seem heavier, colder.

I climb off slowly, my legs slightly unsteady, not from the ride, but from everything that’s happened in the last few hours. I tug the helmet off and hand it to him, fingers brushing his as I do.

He doesn’t take it right away. Instead, his eyes hold mine, unreadable.

“Are you okay?” he asks finally, voice low, rough. “Really?”

I nod, then shrug, trying to smile. “Nothing a quiet night and ten hours of sleep won’t fix.” A pulse jumps in his cheek. He doesn’t believe me...he never does.

“You should get inside,” he murmurs, glancing toward the manor in the distance. “Before Bianca starts calling the cavalry.”

I sigh. “She already thinks I’m hiding something. That I’m with you.”

His lips curl faintly. “She’s not wrong.”

I shift toward the gate, but before I can take a step, his hand wraps around my wrist. Firm, unyielding.

“Jordyn,” he says, tugging me back gently. I face him.

“I’ll be over later,” he says, voice low. “To speak with my father.”

My stomach knots. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” he says, too easily. “But I’ll handle it.”

He leans down, brushing his lips against mine, slow and unhurried, like the weight of everything he won’t say is beingpoured into this kiss. My arms circle his neck, and I step into him, deepening the kiss. He moans, one hand gripping my waist, the other on the curve of my ass.

When he pulls back, he strokes my jaw with the pad of his thumb affectionately.

“If you see me inside, act like nothing’s different. No looks. No hesitation. You understand?”

I nod. “I mean it, bambina,” he says, eyes flicking over my face like he’s memorising it. “You look at me like you did in that boutique, and Luciano will know everything.”

I bite my lip and offer a sultry smile. “I’ll be normal.”

“You’ll be perfect,” he corrects, his voice barely a whisper. “Now go.”

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