Page 281 of Untamed

I don’t look back.

Dante falls into step beside me, silent until we’re well out of earshot, until the manor fades behind us and the air feels breathable again.

I stop just before the villa’s steps, hands still curled into fists.

“Talk,” I say, voice low. “What did you find?”

Dante glances around once, then lowers his tone. “One of our guys at the docks picked up whispers, said Nicolai’s yacht is being prepped for a departure. Sardinia. Tonight.”

My gaze sharpens. “You think he’s moving them?”

Dante nods. “It’s possible. Quiet route. Not many would notice. I’ve got someone staking the marina now, eyes on the crew. But if we’re going to hit it, we’ll need to move before nightfall.”

Sardinia.

The name lands like a curse.

Dread slithers through me, cold and unrelenting, as the pieces fall into place. If Nicolai’s moving her off the island, it means one thing, He’s already sold her.

To one of his associates. One of those twisted bastards who trade in flesh and obedience. Who’ll put a collar around her throat and call it ownership.

“Get everything ready,” I mutter. “Weapons. Backup. I want eyes in the water and on the sky. If he’s taking her there—” My voice dips, dangerously low. “—then we drag him straight to hell before he gets the chance.”

Dante nods once, eyes hard. “Already on it.”

I start up the villa steps, the weight of the bracelet in my pocket like lead.

Dante shifts beside me, tension rolling off him in waves.

“There’s one more thing…” he mutters.

I turn, eyes narrowing. He hesitates, hand sliding into his back pocket like he’s reaching for a live grenade.

“Spit it out.”

He doesn’t speak, just pulls it free, a clear evidence bag, sealed tight.

Inside is a small, white stick. My brows knit as I take it from him.

Then I see it. The word two syllable wordPregnanton the small digital screen.The world as I know it comes to a screeching halt.

My jaw locks as the word slams through me like a freight train.

Pregnant...

Jesus Christ, Jordyn. What have you done?

I jump as the door slams shut behind us, sealing the world out with a finality that makes my skin crawl.

Bianca is beside me, chest heaving, face pale and wide-eyed in the dark. Her wrists are scraped where they dragged her. Mine sting too, but I barely feel it, my pulse is hammering too hard, too loud, drowning out everything except the voice still echoing in my head.

“Stai attenta! Non deve farsi del male. Mi hai sentito?”Be careful. She is not to be harmed. Do you understand me?

Whoever he was, he sounded young, but sure. Like someone with orders. Like someone scared of what would happen if those orders weren’t followed.

I hold onto that thought like a lifeline.

Bianca lets out a ragged breath, her voice barely holding together. “Jordyn…” she whispers. “What’s happening? What the fuck is happening?”

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