Page 32 of Untamed

They move together, the space between them dissolving with every beat.

Her fingers slip into his, their bodies brushing, hips bumping.

Grinding.

Way too fucking close for two people who barely know each other. Unless...are they together? Is that what this is?

The blood roars louder in my ears than the music.

I shouldn’t care. I have no fucking right to care. She’s Matteo’s family now, same as me. And she deserves to have some stupid, carefree night where the world doesn’t crush her under its heel.

But watching her laugh, watching her dance, watching another man’s hands on her? As much as I hate to admit it, it feels like a thousand splinters driving straight through my chest.

My jaw is clenched so tight it aches. I press my knuckles against the glass so hard I swear the whole fucking wall should shatter under its weight.

This isn't jealousy.

It’s instinct.

Because Jordyn Windslow isn’t the type of girl that belongs here, in this club, on that dancefloor, in Matteo’s arms. She too fragile, a little too naive. She needs to be far away from monsters like me and playboys like Matteo.

Fuck, if she knew what I had just done, how much blood I have on my hands, the cold, unforgiving monster I become, she would run as fast and far as those slender legs would take her.

And yet...I can’t look away. Not even when it’s pissing me off to watch.

What the fuck has she done to me? What do I even know about this girl to become so...fixated. I’ve never in my life become this emotionally attached to someone this fast. Not inthisworld. Not with blood on my hands and ice in my chest.

She’s young. Too young for me to be infatuated with.

She’s fucking nineteen. A kid. A teenager.

Still so heartbreakingly innocent, even when she’s standing there laughing in the middle of a fucking club full of wolves. I drag a hand down my face, forcing myself to breathe, to remember who I am, to remember whosheis.

But it doesn’t matter, because every second I stand here, every heartbeat she spends smiling at Matteo or twirling under those goddamn lights, she sinks deeper into my blood. And I don’t know if I’ve got the strength to cut her out.

After a while of watching her and Matteo dance together, I force myself to tear my eyes away. I cross the room, walk over to mydesk, and drop into the chair like it’s the only thing holding me up.

I need to get a fucking grip. My head’s a mess, my body’s worse, and she is the reason behind both.

What the hell am I doing, looking at her like she’s mine to touch? Like I didn’t just promise to keep her safe, from this life, from myself. I’m a grown man, and she’s a goddamn line I should never cross. But there’s a part of me...dark and unruly that doesn’t give a damn about right or wrong. It just wants. It craves…her. And that part? It’s getting harder to silence.

This bullshit attraction is a distraction. One I don’t have time for. One I can’t fucking afford. I drag my hand through my hair, exhaling slowly, trying to force the chaos back into the cage where it belongs.

Jordyn is a beautiful complication I have no business wanting. Not now. Not ever. Especially not when I’m knee-deep in a brewing war with a rival clan, one misstep away from blood in the streets.

Leaning back in the chair behind my desk, I feel the leather creak under the tension straining every inch of my body. The bass from the club below rumbles up through the floor, low and dirty, vibrating the soles of my boots, pounding like a second heartbeat against my ribs. I close my eyes for a beat. Focus. Stay sharp. You can’t save her from this world. You can’t even save yourself.

Leaning over, I grab the glass of whiskey from the edge of my desk, take a slow pull, letting the burn steady my nerves. Letting it drown the part of me that’s screaming to go down there and tear apart anyone who so much as looks at her.

I slam the glass back down, harder than necessary, a thin crack spidering across the crystal. The sound is swallowed whole by the music thudding through the walls.

I shift my focus.

Alessandro Romano.

You’re who I need to focus on. Enjoy the last couple of days on this earth, tu stronzo, because I’m about to rain all kinds of hell on you.

I pick up my phone, which is sitting on the desk and dial the number of an associate. The line rings once, and on the second ring he answers. “Ares?”

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