Page 272 of Untamed

Then Bianca’s foot eases off the accelerator.

“What—” A black SUV is parked across the road ahead, idling. Headlights off. Windows tinted.

Another suddenly appears in the rearview mirror, pulling in behind us.

Bianca curses. “Fuck.”

My stomach drops. “Bianca…”

“I know, just stay calm.” The SUV in front begins to move. Slowly. Purposefully, blocking us.

The second one behind us cuts off the road boxing us in.

“Shit!” Bianca throws the car into reverse, but the one behind matches her, bumper to bumper. She slams on the brake and twists to me, her voice suddenly sharp, urgent.

“Run.”

“What?”

“Jordyn, run!”

“I can’t leave you!”

“Jordyn, go!” She flings her door open and launches herself out of the car. “Go!”

I don’t have time to hesitate. The men are already walking toward us. I grab the handle, shove it open, and bolt into the trees. My feet slip on the dirt, shoes catching on undergrowth, branches clawing at my arms. I hear her scream behind me, my name, followed by the sound of a struggle, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

Leaves whip past my face. My lungs burn, but they’re faster.

I reach into my back pocket to try and call Ares, but a hand grabs my hoodie from behind, jerking me back with such force that I hit the ground hard. My phone falls out of my hand and skitters across the dirt.

I scream, clawing at the forest floor, kicking at the body above me. Another pair of hands grabs my arms and twists them behind my back.

“Let me go!” I cry, panic tearing through my throat. “Get your hands off me?—”

“Don’t touch her!” Bianca’s voice cuts through the trees, raw and furious.

I twist my head. She’s fighting, wild and reckless, until one of them slams her against the hood of her car, a gun pressed to her temple.

“No!” I sob. “Bianca!”

The grip on my arms is bruising as they drag me toward the waiting SUV, boots crunching against gravel, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might tear straight through my chest.

Bianca’s screaming. “Please! Don’t hurt us! My husband is Enzo Russo! He’ll pay, whatever you want, justplease, pleasedon’t hurt us.”

One of the men growls at her to shut up, shoving her forward.

But I’m not going down that easily. Ares taught me better than that.

Lifting my foot, I slam my heel into the shin of the man dragging me. His leg buckles, and he stumbles with a curse, loosening his grip for just a second, just enough. I twist, drive the heel of my palm into the soft joint beneath his thumb and wrench his hand back.

“Ahh!Fottuta puttana!” He yells in pain, and the moment his grip loosens, I wrench my arm free and bolt across the gravel, legs burning, lungs heaving.

But I don’t get far.

A thick arm catches me around the waist, yanking me backwards mid-sprint. I scream, thrashing, kicking, until I feel the cold bite of metal pressed against my ribs.

“Try that again, puttana.” The man snarls into my ear, “and I’ll break you myself before Nicolai gets the chance.”

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