Page 225 of Untamed

I could nod, thank him for his time, and leave the way he clearly expects me to, small, silenced, scared.

But I don’t.

Instead, I sit up a little straighter, lift my chin, and look him square in the eyes.

“You’re right about one thing.” My voice is steady, even though my heart is thundering. “I wasn’t raised for this world.”

His gaze sharpens, but I don’t stop. “I didn’t grow up with blood on my hands or enemies at the gate. I wasn’t trained to see love as a liability or silence as power.” I draw in a breath. “But I do know what it means to fight for someone.”

Luciano doesn’t speak. He watches me with that same unreadable expression, like I’m being measured for a casket or a crown.

“You say Ares forgets who he is when he’s with me. But maybe he remembers. Maybe I’m the only thing that makes him feel like more than just your weapon.”

I notice his jaw grinding, just a little. I lean forward, my voice soft, but certain.

“You want me to let him go because it’s convenient. Because it keeps the world you built intact. But if you think I’m going to walk away from the man I love just to make your legacy easier to manage, then you’ve underestimated me.”

Luciano’s eyes narrow. Something flickers in them, but it vanishes too quickly for me to catch it.

“You think love is a weakness?” I whisper. “Watch what it makes me do.”

I stand.

Not in anger.

Not in fear.

Just with a calm that feels earned, held together by threads and defiance. My fingers close around the door handle, pulse still thrumming in my ears.

Then, as I begin to turn it, “You remind me of someone.”

His voice stops me cold.

It’s laced with something that makes the air thinner and blood run colder.

“She believed love could save a man like Ares too. Thought she could tame the fire, soften the sharp edges. Make him human again.”

There’s a pause. I don’t move.

“Her name was Seraphina.” Another beat. “She was… persistent. Just like you.”

I don’t breathe.

“And then one day, she was gone.” His voice is quieter now, more reflective, but sharp. “No note. No goodbye. Just… vanished. Some say she ran. Others whisper about darker things.” He leans back in his chair. “But it doesn’t really matter, does it? Because she left. Despite him making her all the promises to burn down the world...she eventually saw his world for what it is and fled.”

My throat tightens as I swallow past the dryness, the weight of his words clinging to the back of my tongue. “You’ll follow her path soon enough, Jordyn,” Luciano says, lifting his glass with effortless calm. His fingers rest loosely around the rim. “There’s only so much he can shield you from.”

I don’t respond. I just open the door before my voice can betray me.

But even as I step out into the corridor, his words trail after me, quiet as breath, heavy as fate. They cling to me like shadows I can’t shake.

I shut the door behind me and lean against it for a moment, just breathing. Trying to shake the weight of Luciano’s words. But they cling to me, under my skin, in my lungs, like smoke that won’t clear.

I push off the door and turn toward the bed and freeze.

A single long-stemmed white rose lies across my pillow.

Perfect. Pale. Still dewy like it was just cut.

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