Page 233 of Untamed

Let him try.

My wheels screech onto gravel, the Ducati spitting dust as I kill the engine. I’m off the bike before it’s done settling, boots hitting ground like gunfire.

Dock 12 yawns open ahead, an old freight hangar hollowed out by time and secrets. One floodlight flickers weakly above the loading bay, casting the entrance in shifting shadow.

“I’m right behind you.” I hear Dante utter in my ear.

I don’t wait.

I move.

Silent. Focused. My blade is already in my hand, pressed close to my thigh, hidden by the jacket. My gun stays holstered, for now.

I take the back route. Scale a rusted fence. Cut through pallets stacked high with crates labelled in Cyrillic. Every shadow is a threat. Every breath is a countdown.

I reach the side entrance and stop. A figure stands just inside the warehouse, silhouetted, fuckingwaiting.

And on the floor behind him, a flash of movement.

Slumped legs. Pale arms. A black heel.

Jordyn.

My pulse spikes so hard I nearly stagger.

She’s on her knees, wrists bound. Head bowed like she’s trying to stay upright.

She’s alive...but barely.

The man doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, he just steps aside.

Inviting me in.

I tighten my grip on the blade. My breath comes sharp, deliberate, because I know what this is. This is not a kidnapping, it’s not a ransom.

This is a message. From whom I don’t know, but I’m about to return it in blood.

The air inside the hangar is thick with rust and sea rot. Dim light slices through the slats in the ceiling, dust curling in every beam like smoke.

My boots echo on the concrete as I step inside.

One slow step. Then another.

He doesn’t flinch.

Neither do I.

The man is tall. Clean-cut. Tailored black suit like it was ironed for this moment. His hands are clasped in front of him, calm. As if, he’s not standing between me and the only thing in this world I give a fuck about.

Behind him, Jordyn stirs. Barely. Her head tilts. Her wrists are tied, but not tight. Just enough to humiliate. To provoke. My vision narrows.

“You have five seconds to step away from her,” I say, voice like gravel dragged across concrete.

He smiles.

Not wide. Just enough.

The kind of smile that comes with secrets and arrogance and the quiet confidence of a man who thinks he’s made his point.

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