Page 185 of Untamed

And this time, when I turn to walk, he lets me go.

But I feel him watching me the entire way.

The manor is quiet when I step inside. Save for the staff moving around, dusting, polishing. There’s no sign of Bianca, no inquisition...well, not yet anyway. By the time I push open my bedroom door, my hands are shaking.

I don’t even bother with the lights. I just let the door fall shut behind me and drop the bags onto the floor. They land with a soft thud, lace and silk spilling out of tissue paper I no longer care about.

I make it three steps before my legs give a warning tremble.

Crumpling onto the edge of the bed, I suck in a breath and let it out in a ragged exhale. The room spins slightly. My throat burns.

God, I feel awful.

The nausea that’s been creeping up on me all day suddenly claws its way to the surface, violent and urgent.

I bolt for the bathroom.

Barely make it to the toilet before I’m on my knees, retching.

My stomach heaves again and again until there’s nothing left. Just the taste of bile and the echo of everything I’ve been trying to keep down, the fear, the adrenaline, the image of Ares with a gun in his hand and murder in his eyes.

When it’s over, I slump back against the wall, chest rising and falling too fast, my skin clammy.

I press my forehead to the cool tile, eyes squeezed shut.

It’s not just the pill. It’s everything.

The unbearable weight of the secrets. The lies. The look in Ares’s eyes when he realised someone had followed us. When he pressed that gun to the man’s throat and whispered a promise of death like it was nothing.

He’s dangerous. He’s terrifying. And yet… all I felt was safe. If anything, it made me want him more. And that’s the part that unsettles me.

I must’ve drifted off. It’s dark now, the room hushed, curtains breathing gently in the breeze from the cracked window. My mouth is dry. My head is pounding.

The nausea has faded, but the heaviness in my chest hasn’t.

I sit up slowly, limbs aching, and reach for the bottle of water on my nightstand. My phone lights up beside it.

Unknown number.

I stare at the screen. It rings again. And again.

I don’t move. Not until the fourth time. My thumb hesitates over the green button. Then I answer.

“…Hello?”

Silence. No breathing, no static, just silence.

“Hello?” still no answer.

I start to pull the phone away when a voice, smooth, male, and unhurried finally speaks.

“Presto.”Soon.

The line goes dead.

I sit frozen, the word echoing through the quiet like a curse.

Soon? What the hell does that mean?

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