Page 289 of Untamed

She’s leverage. A message. A knife to the throat meant for me.

This isn’t a pissing contest over power. It’s retribution, for Luca, for the blood I spilled, for the pride I shattered when I left his son barely breathing and dumped at his door.

My knuckles crack as I flex my fists, the silence around me pressing in like a vice. I should be moving, barking orders, but all I can do is stand there andfeel, rage coiled so tight inside my chest it feels like I might implode. My mouth is dry, but I don’t move for water. My muscles ache todo something, but the only thing I want to do is put my hands around Nicolai Moretti’s throat and squeeze until his heartbeat gives out beneath my palms.

Instead, I glance down at my wrist.

The hair tie is still there, black, soft, stretched from wear. She left it on my nightstand the last night we had together. I remember brushing her hair back with it, the feel of her skin under my fingertips. She laughed when I called it ugly. Said it had survived more than I had.

I twist it once, then again, until it’s tight against my skin.

It’s stupid. A piece of elastic and thread. But it feels like her. And right now, I’ll take anything that keeps me anchored. Because the rage is rising, and if I don’t keep it chained, I’ll burn the whole goddamned coast before I even find her.

I exhale through my nose, slow and sharp.

Just hold on a little while longer, bambina. I’m coming. And nothing, not traps, not soldiers, not even God himself, will stop me.

She was on her way to the airport. She wasleaving. To protect me. To protect our unborn child. That’s when they got her. And the thought of her reaching for something that looked like freedom only to be stolen into the dark?

I could rip the fucking earth in half.

Behind me, the sound of boots echoes against the stone floor. The men are ready. I hear the low murmur of voices, metal clinking as weapons are checked and loaded. Dante’s barking orders, astute and cold. He knows better than to ask if I’m good. We passed that point hours ago.

I lift my head and turn toward the door.

My voice is steady when I speak, but the air around me vibrates with heat.

“We move now. No stops. No second guessing. If anyone gets in our way, kill them.”

One of the soldiers gives a clipped nod, disappearing into the hall.

I take one last glance at the glowing map, then reach for my jacket. My gun. My blade.

They took her.

But they forgot one thing.

I don’t stop until what’s mine is back in my arms.

And this time, I’m not leaving anyone alive.

The wind howls past my ears, drowning out the roar of the engines as we tear down the coastal road like hounds unleashed from the fiery pit. My fists are locked tight on the handlebars so tight they’re aching, jaw clenched beneath the visor of my helmet. Every breath feels like it might shatter me, but still, I push faster.

Dante rides just ahead, his black helmet glinting under the dying light as the day fades and the night starts to set in. His Ducati weaves effortlessly between cars like he’s part of the machine. Behind us, the convoy snakes along the road, four SUVs packed with men and steel, tires chewing up asphalt as if the world itself knows we’re coming and is preparing for the carnage.

The ocean blurs beside us, a smear of deep blue on our left, cliffs and crumbling stone walls to our right. Everything smells like salt, exhaust, and vengeance.

A car tries to merge. I don’t slow. I don’t move. I swerve around it with barely an inch to spare, the growl of the engine splitting the silence that’s settled inside me since she was taken.

Jordyn.

I see her beautiful face every time I blink. Hear her scream even when the road noise should drown everything else out.

I lean forward, riding lower, pushing the bike harder until the speedometer flickers red, warning me I’m on the edge. Good. Let it burn. Let it fucking break. I won’t stop.

Not until I have her back in my arms where she belongs.

Dante glances back once, brief and sharp, just enough to check I’m still with him. I nod once. No words. We don’t need them. We ride like shadows, two reapers cloaked in fury.

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