Page 18 of Untamed

Wait, I didn’t—no.

They’re talking about someone else?

I narrow my eyes at the screen. Here I am, wearing a fucking mask in my kitchen while drinking my coffee, and someone’s disrespected my girl?

Who the fuck did that?

I scroll until I see the comment.

Then the second one.

And the third.

My gaze grows instantly hazy, my knuckles turning white when I grip my phone so hard.

Romance novels don’t make up for the fact that you’re basic as hell. Try a real hobby.

I’ll give him a real fucking hobby involving my fist and his fucking face. I click on his profile pic. Balding, middle-aged douchebag with a double chin.

My jaw drops when I see another comment. The fucking nerve?

Why hasn’t she deleted this shit?

All that fantasizing, and you still look like you’d bore a guy to death in five minutes.

Five minutes? I’d end him in one. The fucking son of a goddamn?—

Reading about mafia guys won’t make one want you. Stick to the fairytales, sweetheart.

Real mafia guys? I’ll give him real mafia guys.

Davay posmotrim, kak tebe ponravitsya, suka blyad.

Let’s see how the little bitch would likethis.

My phone buzzes with text after text I ignore. Before I can stop myself, I type a response to the online douche.

Bratvabloodline

You want to take that up with a real man, princess? Cute. Disrespect her again, and I’ll remind you how much those keyboard warrior hands can hurt when they’re broken.

I stab at the screen.

Within seconds, my comment’s liked, and the comments below it start flooding in.

He’s defending her! Like a real made man! Gahhhh, Be still my beating ovaries!

“Oooooh. Real men do exist, and here’s one right here. On brand, sir. On. Brand.

I can’t do this.I shouldn’t be doing this.

I close my eyes and breathe in through my nose.

It’s just an online comment. Relax.

That son of a bitch wouldn’t have the nerve to say that to my face.

An online comment from a real guy who hurt a real girl who I actually?—

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