Page 35 of Untamed

I head straight for the stairs, straight for the master suite.

“Where’s the goddamn doctor?” I roar over my shoulder as my boots hammer against the marble.

“Five minutes out, Boss,” someone stammers from the hallway.

Five minutes. Might as well be five fucking years. She doesn’t have five minutes.

I hit my bedroom door at full stride and slam it open, carrying her straight into the bathroom.

“Get the shower running!” I bark at the nearest body behind me. “Cold. Full blast. Now. Someone get me some towels.”

The girl bolts forward, fumbles with the taps. I hear the pipes groan and then the water explodes from the showerhead, ice cold and merciless.

I don’t wait.

Still fully clothed, I step into the spray with her in my arms. The freezing water crashes down on us both, soaking through fabric, skin, and bone, but I barely feel it.

Jordyn jerks weakly against me, a broken gasp escaping her lips.

Good girl. Fight, Bambina. Fight your way back to me, come on.

I stand with her under the water, one arm braced behind her back, the other curling around her trembling frame, locking her against me when she goes limp again. I tap her face gently, to help her regain consciousness.

“Come on, wake up, Jordyn. Stay with me,” I growl against her temple. “Breathe. Bambina, come back. Don’t you fucking dare give up now. Come on!”

The cold cuts through everything, through the drugs in her blood, through the dread in my chest, through the darkness consuming her.

Slowly, she stirs. Her head shifts against my shoulder. Her fingers twitch against my chest. And when she whimpers myname, broken, soft, almost too quiet to hear, I close my eyes and drop my forehead against hers, and swear to whatever god is listening: If she survives through this night, there won’t be a place on this earth safe enough for the motherfucker who did this.

The bathroom floor is soaked, freezing water pooling around us.

My clothes cling to my skin, heavy and ice-cold, but I don't give a fuck.

All that matters is her. I cradle Jordyn tighter against me, rocking her gently under the relentless downpour. Her body trembles against mine...weak and shivering, but that’s good. It means she’s fighting. It means she's still here.

The door slams open behind us. I don’t lift my head. I don’t loosen my grip.

“Mr Russo,” the doctor pants, rushing in, his medical bag swinging from his shoulder. “I’m here. Let’s get her on the bed so I can examine her.” I move without a word, both of us dripping wet as I walk from the ensuite through the master bedroom toward my bed and sit on it with Jordyn still in my arms.

“Do what you need to do,” I bark without looking at him, my voice raw. “But you’re not taking her out of my arms.” He hesitates only a second, then drops to his knees in the pooling puddle beside us and gets to work. Checking her pupils. Checking her pulse and then injecting something into her upper arm...a counteragent to whatever shit she’s taken.

“Do you know what she’s taken or what drug she was given?” He questions, and I shake my head wordlessly.

I hold her. I hold her though it all. Whispering low words against her wet hair. Breathe for her when it feels like she’s too weak to do it herself.

And then I feel a shudder run through her body. A raspy gasp rattling past her lips. Her fingers fist weakly into the front of my soaked shirt.

I go still.

Slowly, very slowly, Jordyn lifts her head. Her long lashes flutter against her cheeks, wet and heavy.

Those cerulean eyes blink open. Glassy...confused and so utterly defeated.

“Ar...” she tries to say, but the word collapses halfway through.

“I'm here,” I whisper, my voice rougher than sandpaper. “I’m not going anywhere.” Jordyn blinks up at me, disoriented, tears spilling over before she can even understand why. I tilt her chin gently so she’s forced to look at me...to see me. I want her to see that she’s safe.

“You’re okay, Bambina,” I murmur, brushing her wet hair off her forehead.“Don’t talk, just focus on your breathing.”

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