Page 291 of Untamed

I don’t wait for the rest.

The knife slides across his throat in a clean, practiced line. He gurgles as his life leaks out onto the dirt.

I wipe the blade against his jacket and turn to Dante, who’s already stalking toward me.

“She’s in a bedroom on the top floor; Bianca is in the basement.” I grit out. “Seven to ten guards. We’ll get Jordyn first.”

Dante cracks his neck and reloads. “Then let’s go introduce ourselves.”

And just like that, we descend into hell.

One by one, we carve through them.

By the time we reach the villa's outer corridor, there are four bodies bleeding into the earth behind us. No alarms. No shots. Just quiet death and the thunder of Jordyn’s name roaring in my chest.

I glance across the courtyard. Dante’s eyes meet mine. He gives a short nod, mouthing, “Clear.”

I hold up two fingers, move in two. He signals back.

And just like that, we’re at the threshold.

Jordyn’s in there. I can feel her.

And I swear on every drop of blood spilled tonight. I’ll burn the fucking place to the ground before I let them take her one step further.

We move through the villa like shadows, quiet, deliberate, hearts pounding too loud in our chests. Every step closer feels heavier. I can’t get the sound of her name out of my head. It’s not even a thought anymore. It’s a rhythm. A heartbeat. A scream pressed into silence.

Jordyn. Jordyn. Jordyn.

Dante’s behind me, every bit as wired as I am, his breaths tight, fists clenched around his weapon like it’s the only thing anchoring him.

We take down the last two guards outside the far room with clean, efficient strikes. No sound. No mercy.

“Go find, Bianca.” Dante looks at me like he wants to argue, but one look from me and he concedes. He nods once before turning and striding down the corridor.

Drawing in a breath I press my hand to the door, fingers curling around the handle. And for a split second, I hesitate.

Not because I’m scared, but because I know whatever’s on the other side will burn itself into me. I’ll never unsee it. Never outrun it. And God help me if I’m too late.

I push the door open

And there she is.

Jordyn.

Her usual silken hair a mess. Her face is pale, streaked with dried tears. She’s barefoot, wrapped in a loose white shirt that hangs off her frame. Her eyes meet mine instantly, and it nearly knocks the air from my lungs. They’re wide and wet and scared, but alive.

Until I see the arm wrapped around her neck.

Nicolai Moretti.

He’s standing behind her, holding her like a shield. One arm tight across her throat, the other holding a gun, pressed to her temple. His face is twisted into something between triumph and madness. He looks straight at me and doesn’t flinch.

“Finally.” Nicolai smirks. “You took your sweet time getting here, Russo.”

I move to take a step and Nicolai tuts.

“Un altro passo,” he growls, eyes locked on me. “One more step and paint the room red with her pretty little brain.”

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