Page 133 of Untamed

This is so fun.

Girl noooo. You’ve been keeping him from us the whole time? Where do I sign upppp

The way he took off that mask and whispered in your ear? I need holy water, rn

Not me rewatching the video on repeat to catch every detail of his shadow lurking in the background…

OMG. Welcome BACK, “little queen!”

The way he looks at you like he will LEGIT burn the world down for you.

Forget the book recs. I just need to know when the second part of this video drops, pretty pretty pls

I grin at him. “I knew they’d love you.”

We read through the comments and reply. I swear his head grows three sizes.

“Stay humble, Bratva boy.”

“Call me that one more time, and I’ll reopen my accountjustto post that video of you over my lap.”

I can’t help but giggle at that.

He kisses my cheek. “Baby, they loveyou.You’re the one who keeps the fantasy alive. Who keeps the hope alive.” He shakes his head. “And I love that for you.”

I sigh and look around my apartment before I shut the phone off. I rest my head against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath my cheek. “I guess I’m just nervous. It feels like closing a door.”

Rodion tilts my chin up, his thumb tracing my jaw. “Then leave it open. Just don’t let it keep you from walking through the next one.”

He’s right.

There’s nothing tying me here anymore. Shawn is gone, and for the first time in a long time, I’m not looking over my shoulder.This apartment—the one I once considered my safe haven—now feels like something I’ve outgrown.

“Alright, let’s finish packing. I still owe Zoya about ten book recs before we leave.”

“Not sure how I feel about that.”

“Not sure it’s your business.” I narrowly dodge his outstretched palm.

The apartment grows quieter as we work, the shelves slowly emptying. But even as the space becomes lessmine, I feel it—the excitement thrumming just beneath the surface.

Moving to Russia isn’t the end.

It’s the start of something new.

Epilogue

RODION

The faint glowof a winter dawn filters through the window, but I’m mesmerized by the sleeping form of my wife.

My wife.

Those two words hold a world of meaning they never did before. Her fiery red hair spills on the pillow—a satin pillowcase she tested for her new online store, saying something about it leaving hair softer and untangled. I don’t much care about that part, but it twisted nicely into makeshift bonds last night. Heh.

She’s quiet now, her breathing steady, but the tension in her brow still lingers a little. Not every day is a happy ending, and not every night sweet dreams. She has nightmares sometimes. I don’t ask her what they are. They could be memories of her past or even more recently, the bloodstained ground the day of the gala.

I only pull her closer and whisper against her ear that she’s safe. That I’m here. That I’ll protect her. I stroke her hair until she’s softly sleeping against my chest.

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