Page 229 of Untamed

Just flag the image and forward it to Dante’s device.

He checks his phone.

“You want me to find him?” he asks.

I nod. “I want his name. I want his job. I want to know what room he’s in, where he’s from, and what he was drinking.”

“And when I have all that?”

“Then I’ll decide how deep he goes in the ground.”

I’m still staring at the paused image of the man at the bar when a soft knock sounds at the door.

It’s too light to be Dante, too rehearsed to be harmless.

I don’t look up when the door opens. I know who it is before she speaks.

“Ares.”

The voice is as poised as the perfume that follows it into the room, sweet, but laced with something sharper underneath. Giana Mancini.

I lift my gaze slowly.

She’s dressed in pale grey silk, the colour of ash before it turns to smoke. Her hair swept back in a clean, elegant twist. Everything about her is deliberate.

She closes the door behind her.

“No guards?” I murmur.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she replies.

“No,” I say, tapping the screen dark. “But you should be.”

Her smile doesn’t falter. It doesn’t reach her eyes either. “I thought we could talk,” she says, stepping closer. “Privately.”

I don’t offer her a seat, she doesn’t need one, she knows this isn’t a negotiation.

“You humiliated my family,” she begins, voice smooth. “You made a public spectacle out of a private agreement. And now you think you can simply choose someone else… and walk away clean?”

“I didn’t think,” I answer, standing, “I acted. There’s a difference.”

Giana lets that settle. Then tilts her head, eyes narrowing at the corners.

“She’s beautiful. I’ll give you that. Soft. Wide-eyed. A touch fragile, but that’s the appeal, isn’t it?”

I don’t respond. Just stare and she moves closer, lowering her voice.

“But we both know softness doesn’t survive here. Not for long. Especially when it gets in the way of legacies.”

I step forward. Just once. Enough to close the space between us.

“Careful,” I hiss, voice low.

Her lashes flutter, but she doesn’t back down. “I’m not threatening her, Ares. I’minformingyou. Because I know howthis works. You get to choose your weaknesses, but the world doesn’t forget your obligations.”

She leans in then, just enough that I feel her breath at my collar.

“If she dies… it won’t be by my hand. But don’t expect me to cry at the funeral.”

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