Page 54 of Untamed

Fuck me.The harder I try to avoid her, the more she pops up from every corner.

She stands there barefoot, her eyes wide with surprise, swathed in a sea of fabric.

My hoodie.

She’s wearing my goddamn hoodie.Fuck.

For a second,just one,it scrambles everything. The rage, the focus. The kill-list running through my head. All of it short-circuits.

She gazes up at me, her lips parting slightly as if she’s about to speak, but I cut her off. “Watch where you’re going,” I say, the words tumbling out harsher than intended, clipped and razor-sharp. My hand remains clasped around her arm, firm and unyielding.

And I don’t let go.

“Are you okay?” Her voice is soft, a gentle whisper that barely cuts through the cacophony of sharp, chaotic feelings inside me.

I hesitate, silence stretching between us like a fragile thread. I should shut it down, sever this connection, and walk away. It’s what I’ve always done, my tried and true method of self-preservation.

I let go of her arm, retreating half a step, creating a sliver of space that feels both too much and not enough. It’s a distance that allows for neither comfort nor ease of breath.

“It would do you good to keep that pretty little nose of yours out of matters that don’t concern you.” The words slip out, each syllable cold and deliberate, designed to push her away, to send her fleeing.

Yet, she remains rooted in place, her gaze steady and unwavering. She looks at me, truly looks, without a hint of fear of what she might uncover.

You’re not afraid of me, are you?

And that’s when my resolve falters. My eyes drift downwards, landing on the hoodie she’s wearing. My hoodie. Not his. Her fingers clutch the hem with a possessiveness that speaks of defiance, as if she’s aware she shouldn’t have it, but refuses to let go.

A slow, smouldering heat ignites beneath my ribs, an unbidden warmth that spreads through my chest. I lift my eyes back to her face, searching for something, anything. “And if I say no... that I’m not okay… are you going to do something about it, bambina?”

His words cling to my skin like smoke. Heavy, lingering. Impossible to ignore.

“And if I say no, that I’m not okay... are you going to do something about it, bambina?”

I don’t know what burns more: the heat in his voice or the fact that I’m still thinking about what I would’ve said if I could’ve found my voice at all.

Ares Russo. King of Headfucks.

I watch as he strides away, his boots resonating with a hollow echo down the dimly lit hall. His shoulders are drawn tight with tension, each step radiating a controlled fury that seemsto vibrate in the air around him. I remain rooted to the spot, watching him retreat, his silhouette shrinking with every step. My heart flutters wildly, pounding in my chest with a furious intensity.

I feel flushed and unsteady, as though my skin doesn’t quite fit right. Like it’s stretched too tight over my frame. I can still feel the heat lingering where his fingers had gripped my arm, a sensation like a brand seared into my flesh.

But it’s not just the physical remnants that haunt me. There was something in his eyes when he looked at me...something dark, frantic, and wounded. And for a second, just a second, I think he wanted me to do something. Like if I had reached for him, he might have let me see whatever he’s been holding back.

But then he turned away.

And just like that, he shut the door again.

It’s hours later, but I still can’t get out of my own head. The villa is once again quiet, so quiet I can hear my own thoughts screaming in my head. Aimlessly, I wander the halls like a ghost, barefoot, drowning in this ridiculous hoodie that still smells like him, trying not to obsess over the way he looked at me.

But the silence presses in.

There’s nothing to do. No job. No friends. No routine.

Back home in London, I had a life. Coffee runs, group chats, and a job that didn’t pay much but gave me purpose. Here, there’s just marble and an abundance of sunlight and people who speak in half-truths.

I still feel like a guest in someone else’s dream.

Trapped in a gilded cage.

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