Page 69 of Untamed

“You are not to go back to Eden. Do you understand me?” I say, my voice flat and final. Her blue eyes narrow, her chin lifts with a fiery defiance that stirs something primal within me, making it hard to ignore the physical reaction it provokes.

“Excuse me?” she challenges, her voice a sharp edge.

“You heard me,” I reply.

She crosses her arms, standing defiantly unperturbed, but I can see the rapid pulse at the base of her throat, feel its rhythm echoing in the air between us.

“Where the hell do you get off telling me what I can and can’t do?” she declares, her determination unwavering. “I'm not quitting,”

Of course, she isn't.

“Why?” I ask, my jaw clenching tighter. “So you can keep playing waitress to sleazy bastards in the VIP lounge?”

“No. Because I need the money,” she retorts, her voice slicing through the tension with fierce conviction.

My brows knit, and I step in close, not to intimidate, but to make her feel the weight of every word.

“You don’tneedmoney, Jordyn.” My voice is low and steady. “Look around you. If there is something you want or need, all you have to do is open that pretty mouth and ask.” I pause, letting the silence press in. “You carry the Russo name now. You don’t beg. You don’t scrape. Youcommand.”

Jordyn shakes her head and scoffs. “I think you’re getting me confused with my sister. I’m aWindslow, not aRusso.” I watch closely as she advances toward me. “And I’m only here because I have no other choice...for now. But I want out of this place. I want my own apartment. My own job. My own damn say in what I do without having toaskfor everything or seek anyone’s approval to live my own life.”

Her words hit harder than I anticipate.

Out. She wants out. Not from Sicily, but from here. From me.

I stare at her, my expression cold and impassive.

“All right, you want an apartment, Bambina?” I ask tautly. “I have ten. Take your pick.”

She blinks, startled by my offer, but I continue without pause.

“You want to work so badly?” I shrug, my tone dismissive. “I'll put you on payroll at one of our companies. You can file papers or stare at walls, I don't give a shit, as long as you're not serving drinks to men who’d sell their own mothers to touch you.”

She’s silent for a moment, just long enough for me to regret the raw sincerity in my words. “What is your fucking deal, Ares?” she snaps hotly. “I’m not some piece on a chessboard you can move around whenever it suits you. I’m not something you can control, all right. Why do you care so much about where I work or who touches me anyway?”

Her question slices through the room like a blade.

“Answer me? Why do you care?” she presses.

My jaw pulses, my teeth grinding from how tight I’m clenching. A dull ache starts to bloom behind my eyes, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to bite down the fury crawling beneath my skin.

If she were anyone else, she’d be dead by now. One shot. Done.

But she’s not anyone else. I wish she fucking were, but she’s not.

I drop my hand, lift my gaze, and let my voice cut clean.

“Because you’re family,” I grit out. “Whether you like it or not, you’re part ofthisfamily. You’re a Russo. And around here, that comes with rules. Rules you don’t get to rewrite just because you’re angry at the world, all right Bambina?” Jordyn laughs, but there’s no humour in it.

It’s sharp, bitter and disbelieving.

“Family?” she echoes, stepping even closer. “You thinkthat’swhat this is?”

She presses a finger against my chest, hard, and I let her, even though every nerve in my body wants to grab her wrist, pin her down,do somethingto shut her up before she tears through every layer I’ve built to keep her out.

“You want to own the floor I sleep on, the money I earn, and the air I breathe. You want to wrap it all in velvet and call it protection so you can sleep at night and pretend it’s not just you keeping me and every other person in this fucking place on a leash.”

I breathe through my nose, slow and sharp, trying to keep from exploding.

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