Page 230 of Untamed

I grab her wrist before she can step away. Not hard. Just enough to make it sting.

“I don’t care who you were promised to, Giana. I don’t care what your family wants. If you so much as speak her name again with a fucking smirk—” I release her slowly, but controlled. “—I’ll make sure you never get another word out.”

Giana straightens her blouse with a soft, unbothered flick. Then she turns back to the door and pauses.

“You know, it’s sweet… how you look at her like she’s your whole world.” Her smile returns, soft and poisonous. “But the thing about worlds, Ares?—”

Her eyes meet mine. “—They burn.”

Then she leaves, the door shuts behind her with a soft, self-satisfied click.

I stare at it for a moment, breathing slow and even, because if I let myself feel the heat building in my chest, I’ll tear something apart.

Dante steps in without knocking. Always knows when to appear. Always knows when I’m one second from snapping.

“Should’ve let me put her in the ground months ago,” he mutters.

“She’s not the one pulling strings,” I reply.

He nods once. “Luciano?”

“She’s a blade he handed off. Pretty, sharp, but disposable.”

Dante walks further into the room and tosses a folder onto the table.

“Thought you’d want to see this, came in right after your… guest.” His voice doesn’t hide the disdain.

I flip it open.

Photos. Names. Documents. Surveillance logs.

The man from the bar.

Real name:Tommaso Fiorenti.

Front: corporate investor.

Reality: associate of theRagusa faction, one of the smaller families sniffing around the Russo-Mancini rift.

I drag a finger across the image. In one of the photos, he’s looking not at Jordyn, but at the exit behind her. Timing her movements.

“He was testing our security,” I say flatly.

Dante nods. “Seeing how close he could get. Seeing if she’s reachable.”

I flip to the next page. Room number. Schedule. Known associates.

“When does he check out?”

“Tomorrow. But he won’t make it to the lobby,” Dante says. “Unless you want him to.”

I close the file. “Kill him,” I order calmly. “But not in the hotel. Too messy, too close to her.”

“Want it loud or quiet?”

I meet his eyes. “I want it remembered.”

Dante’s mouth twists in something close to a grin. “Consider it done.”

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