Page 267 of Untamed

“You think I’m afraid to die?” he asks quietly. “I’m not. I’m afraid to lose you. That’s what terrifies me.”

I close my eyes as his forehead presses to mine, my tears meeting on our skin.

“I won’t survive it,” he murmurs. “You walking away… marrying her, I won’t survive it, Jordyn.”

I force down the sob building in my chest. “And I won’t survive you in a coffin. At least this way, if you marry her, I’ll know you’ll be alive.” I lift my hands, my fingers trembling as I brush them along his jaw. “I can’t live with that.” I whimper, choking on the sob I’ve been fighting as it splits me open.

I feel him go stiff against me.

Then, slowly, his grip loosens, not in surrender, but in defiance. His hands slide down my arms, then back up to cup my face again, this time firmer. Unyielding. His eyes lock onto mine, burning with something wild and furious and entirely him.

“No,” he says, voice raw and trembling with restrained rage. “No, I’m not letting you go.”

“Ares—”

“I’m not marrying Giana,” he growls, each word sharp and deliberate, as if he’s spitting poison from his mouth. “I don’t give a fuck what Luciano wants. I don’t care about alliances or bloodlines or thrones. I will not let them win.”

His hands are shaking again, not from fear, but from the sheer force of holding himself back. From tearing the world apart.

“They’ve taken everything from me,” he says. “Twisted my childhood, used me like a fucking weapon, buried me in blood and obedience. But they don’t get you.”

His voice breaks, just slightly, like a crack splintering through marble. “You’re the only good thing I’ve ever touched. The only thing I want for myself. And I’m done letting them dictate who I have and who I don’t.”

I open my mouth, but he doesn’t let me speak.

“No,” he repeats, fiercer now. “You don’t get to make this choice for me. I decide who I am. And I’m not him, Jordyn. I’m not Luciano’s soldier. I’m not a fucking puppet. I will never be hers.I’m yours.”

My heart lurches violently, already unravelling under the weight of him.

“You said you’d rather watch me marry someone else than bury me?” he breathes, stepping closer until our foreheads touch again. “Well, I’d rather die loving you than live a lifetime with anyone else.”

Tears sting my eyes all over again.

“I’ll burn their alliances to ash,” he swears, his voice dark and trembling. “I’ll tear down every legacy they built if it means I get to keep you.”

And I believe him. God help me, I do, but I know this isn’t going to end well. “Ares, please,” I breathe, “This isn’t about letting them win, it’s about keeping you alive. You need to marry Giana. We can find some way to be?—”

“Don’t,” Ares growls, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, Jordyn.” His voice is low, dangerous, threaded with something close to desperation.

“Don’t you dare ask me to make you the other woman. I won’t do that to you.”

He brushes a strand of hair from my face with both hands, eyes locked onto mine like he’s trying to burn the truth into me one word at a time.

“You’re not some dirty secret I tuck away in the dark,” he says fiercely. “You’re mine. My woman. The only one. And I’d rather you take my gun and put a bullet in my heart right here and now than pretend otherwise.”

I try to speak, to challenge him, to remind him that love isn’t always enough. That there are forces bigger than us closing in. But the second my mouth parts, his hand drops from my cheek and slides to the base of my throat, his touch gentle but commanding.

Ares pulls me flush against him, his breath mingling with mine, lips barely a whisper apart.

“Basta parlare, bambina,” he murmurs, the Italian low and rough like gravel soaked in honey.Stop talking, baby.

My pulse spikes, but I refuse to fold. “Ares, you need to listen to me.”

His mouth brushes mine, just enough to steal the air from my lungs. “No,” he breathes. “I need to kiss you.” And then his lips claim mine, instantly silencing me.

His lips crash into mine with a kind of desperation that feels like both a battle cry and a surrender. There’s nothing gentle about it, he kisses me like he’s trying to anchor himself to the edge of the world, like if he holds me close enough, I won’t slip away.

And for a breath, I don’t.

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