Page 228 of Untamed

“It better be.”

I pause, then lower my voice. “I want eyes on her every second of the day. Around the clock. The best we have.”

“I already assigned four of my top men,” Dante replies. “They’ll track her like shadows. Never seen, never felt. She won’t even know they’re there.”

“Good,” I murmur. “I don’t want her spooked. But if anyone so much as looks at her the wrong way?—

“They won’t live to do it twice,” he finishes.

Silence settles again, thick with something heavier than threat. Anticipation. Something that smells like war.

Dante leans against the edge of the table, arms crossed.

“So, what’s next?”

I look up at him, the answer already carved into my spine.

“Next,” I say, “we burn every name off that map that still thinks they can use her against me.”

The meeting room is empty now, just silence, static, and the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. I don’t move. Not yet. I stare down at the map, but all I see is her.

Dante disappears for a few minutes and returns with a secure tablet. He doesn’t say anything, just places it in front of me and slides it across the table like a loaded weapon.

“She’s been in the lobby most of the morning,” he says. “No threats. No contact. Just rich assholes and overpriced martinis.”

I tap the screen and it lights up. Grainy security footage. High-end lobby. Polished marble floors. Jordyn appears in the top right corner of the frame, tray in hand, posture straight, moving with quiet confidence.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek.

She smiles at a guest, small, polite. Nothing flirtatious. Nothing inviting.

Still, my blood spikes.

Another feed. This one outside the staff entrance. Two men on rotation, mine. Leaning against a parked car like they're just killing time. Sunglasses. Earpieces. Shadows.

Exactly as instructed.

I scroll through stills. Timed shots. Wide-angle views. One from the elevator. One from the rooftop bar. She’s just a speck in most of them, but I still find her first every time.

I zoom in on one frame, she’s standing near the concierge desk, adjusting the strap of her shoe. Head tilted. Eyes narrowed. Unaware that I’m watching her from miles away and wanting to be closer anyway.

Dante stands at the window behind me. He hasn’t spoken since.

“She looks fine,” he says after a while.

“She looks vulnerable,” I correct. He doesn’t argue. Because he knows me too well by now. I scroll again, then stop. There’s a new image. Different angle. Tighter frame.

A man at the bar. He’s staring at her.

Not touching. Not speaking.

Just staring.

I swipe to the next image. He’s gone.

I glance at the timestamp. A minute later, Jordyn walks past the same bar, completely unaware.

I don’t say a word.

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