Page 21 of Untamed

I curse under my breath and rip open my wardrobe, grabbing the first hoodie I can find and toss it onto the bed beside her.

“You need to get out of those wet clothes,” I mutter, turning away, giving her space and privacy. My hands curl into fists at my sides, fighting every instinct that wants to stay, wants to kneel before her and make it better somehow.

I hear the soft rustle of fabric behind me, the muted clink of wet clothes hitting the floor. Releasing a slow breath, I head into the en-suite to grab a towel. When I return, she’s curled up on the edge of the bed, swallowed by my hoodie…the sleeves trailing past her fingertips, legs tucked beneath her. I cross the room in silence, kneeling in front of her as I begin to dry her hair. She watches me, I can feel it, but I don’t look up. My focus stays on the towel, on the gentle motion of wringing the water from her strands until they’re only damp, no longer dripping.

When I’m done, I drop the towel at the end of the bed and despite the internal war inside of me, my eyes lower and lock with hers.

Something twists low and hot in my gut when I see the despair staring back at me.

It’s the kind of look that makes my fists curl. Makes me want to hunt down the bastard who broke her and tear him apart piece by piece.

Jordyn exhales softly and lowers herself down on my bed, curling up on top of the cover. Standing, I walk across the room, grab the thickest blanket I can find, and throw it gently over hersmall, trembling form. For a second, I stand there motionless and watch her. Eyes closed, every breath short and shaky. I move across the room and sit down in the armchair, elbows on my knees, raking a hand through my wet hair.

I don’t move.

I don’t sleep. I just sit there.

Watching and guarding. Because if tonight’s taught me anything, it’s that the girl sleeping in my bed might be the only damn thing left in this world that’s still worth protecting. Even if I don’t understand it. Even if it ruins me to do it.

I lose track of how long I sit there, hunched in the armchair across the room, my elbows on my knees, watching her. The shadows creep across the floor, the only light coming from the moon spilling through the window. Jordyn’s curled up on top of my bed, swallowed by my hoodie, still breathing slow and shallow. For a while, she looks peaceful. Fragile and untouchable.

I should call Enzo. Tell him where she is. Let them come and take her back to whatever part of the house they’ve decided to forget about tonight. She doesn’t belong here, in my room, on my bed, wrapped in the kind of broken that I have no business trying to fix.

Bianca should be the one holding her. She should be here, comforting her little sister, not halfway across the manor orburied in funeral plans like that's the only thing that matters right now.

I grind my teeth, the tension bleeding into my jaw and travelling down into my neck.

Do they even realise she’s gone?

Do they even fucking care?

She could have died tonight. Falling into that pool, half-drunk, not caring if she came back up. And where the hell were they?

The longer I sit here, the hotter the anger builds in my gut. It coils, slow and venomous, sinking its teeth into me. I want to tear through this house, drag them out of whatever safe corner they’re hiding in, and make them look at what they’re leaving behind.

She deserves better. She deserves more than people who notice too late.

Looking at her now. She’s a mere shadow of the girl I met the night of the wedding.

She used to be all quirky wit and quiet sarcasm. Always had a comeback, even if it was just under her breath. But I’m watching that part of her bleed out of her since the day she lost her parents. Like whatever spark made her laugh at the world died with them on that road.

My fists clench against my thighs, knuckles whitening. My leg bounces restlessly.

And even though I know I should pick up my phone, call Enzo, tell him to get his shit together and come for his sister-in-law. I don’t.

Because the thought of her waking up alone, of her opening those broken blue eyes and finding herself abandoned again, it guts me in a way nothing else ever has.

I stay exactly where I am, the anger burning a slow, lethal path through my veins, keeping silent watch over the girl who unexpectedly stumbled into my life.

And then, it starts small. A soft twitch of her hand, a quiet whimper barely loud enough to hear. My body snaps to attention instantly, every instinct I’ve spent a lifetime sharpening kicking into overdrive. I watch her shift under the blanket, restless, her face pinching in pain. Her hands twist in the sheets like she’s fighting something only she can see.

Then it gets worse.

She gasps, broken and desperate, her legs kicking weakly against the bed. Tears slip from the corners of her closed eyes, soaking into the pillow. She whispers something...so soft I almost miss it.

“No,” she breathes. “Please... no.Mum...”

The sound cuts straight through me, tearing past every wall I’ve built.Cazzo. She’s back there. Reliving it. The crash. The blood. The wreckage.

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