Page 242 of Untamed

“Ares—”

“I said no.” His tone is sharp, final. Conversation over.

But I’m not done. “Why not?” My chest heats. “You think I can’t handle it?” He turns slowly, expression unreadable, before he speaks

“Because you shouldn’t have to.” The words knock the breath out of me. “You don’t get blood on your hands, Bambina. Not ever.”

“I don’t think I really have a choice.” My voice trembles but I stand firm. “You said it yourself, he slipped past your guards, into my room, left a rose on my pillow. What if next time you’re not here?” His shoulders roll back. He springs up, crushing the cigarette in the ashtray, and then he paces.

“You want to carry that weight?” he murmurs, more to himself than to me. “Hear the gunshot? Feel the recoil? See what it does to someone up close?”

I rise too, stepping into his path. “I want to live.” My voice is low, certain. “And I want you to stop pretending that loving me means hiding the truth.”

Ares stares at me long enough for seconds to stretch. Then he exhales, as though something inside him gives way.

“You want to learn to protect yourself?” he asks, softer now. “All right. I’ll teach you how to hurt someone, just long enough to get away.” He reaches for my hand, pressing his palm to my wrist.

“If someone grabs you, go for the wrist break first. Right here, twist inward, hard, no hesitation.” He guides my hand, showing the angle. “Then the knee. Kick forward, not back. It’ll drop most attackers long enough to run.”

I gasp when Ares suddenly spins me around and pulls me against him, so my back is pressed against his chest. His fingers drift to my side, pressing gently.

“And here, under the ribs. Knife or elbow. Fast. No second guessing.” He murmurs against my ear. “But only if there’s no other choice. Understand?” I nod, my throat tight.

His hand lifts to my cheek, and he tips my head back so I’m looking up at him as his thumb brushes beneath my eye. “You don’t need to learn how to kill, bambina. You just need to know how to stay alive.” I sigh, leaning into his touch. “You’re the only thing I haven’t ruined. Let me keep it that way. I want you to stay soft. Stay spoilt. Staymine.”

I don’t say anything, not at first. The weight of his words settles over me like a heavy cloak, protective yet suffocating. His eyes search mine, waiting for something I’m not sure I can give. Agreement? Gratitude? Resignation?

But I won’t give him resignation…not now.

“This is going to get ugly before it gets better, I know that, and I’m okay with it.” I whisper finally. “I’m not going to lie to you. I am terrified of what could happen, but not me, to you, but I'm ready to fight whatever comes our way. For you. For us. For the chance to have something that isn’t twisted by threats and shadows.”

Ares studies me, his face indecipherable, but his hand doesn’t move from where it rests against my cheek. There’s an intensityin his gaze I’ve seen before, raw, consuming, like he’s building a fortress around me from the inside out. Yet, beneath it, I catch the faintest flicker of something softer. Vulnerability, maybe, or hope.

“I’d take every bullet, every blade, every kind of hell for you, bambina.” His voice is raw, torn from somewhere deep. “But what keeps me up at night is the thought of failing you. Of not getting there in time. Of not being enough.”

I turn to face him fully, closing the distance between us, my fingers gripping the fabric of his black shirt like an anchor.

I meet his gaze with everything in me. “Then we fall together.”

My voice is steady, even as my heart pounds like war drums.

“If you can’t protect me, we figure it out. We rebuild. We bleed. But we don’t let go.”

The word clings between us, “together.” It’s not a plea. It’s a vow.

His breath hitches, uneven, like something inside him just cracked under the weight of it. I feel his hand slip to my waist, grounding us both, his touch as desperate as it is deliberate.

“I never asked for perfect,” I murmur, tightening my grip. “I just want you. Mess and all. As long as you don’t walk away when it gets ugly.”

His chest rises and falls like he’s trying to breathe through a storm.

Then, low, sharp, like a blade unsheathed:

“Bambina, I am the ugly.” His voice roughens. “And walking away from you? That’s not even an option.”

I nod once, feeling assured. Because this is the only thing I won’t ever run from. The world may burn around us, but right now, this, this is what keeps us standing.

Ares studies me for a long, quiet moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a small black velvet box, clean, simple, but heavy with intent. He turns it once in his hand before offering it to me without a word.

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