Page 21 of Untamed

Her cheeks redden, and she stammers out a quick, “O-of course. I’ll have the paperwork for you to sign when you leave.”

Card back in hand, I step past the desk, scanning the space until I find her.Ember. She’s at the squat rack, barbell balanced across her shoulders as she powers through reps. Her fiery hair is tied up, but stray strands cling to her damp skin.

I don’t linger. That would give me away. Instead, I head to the free weights nearby, grabbing weights and setting up a bench. From here, I can see her without making it obvious.

She finishes her set, resting for a moment and glancing around. I keep my focus on my chest press, pretending not to notice her. When her gaze passes over me, there’s no flicker of recognition. Good.

The tension in the air shifts slightly when she moves closer, now at the rowing machine in the same section. Her focus is razor-sharp, every move precise and deliberate.

She’s humble; I can tell that much. She often takes videos of herself in lounge clothes and sweats, cuddled in a blanket with a cup of tea and a book. Here? She’s all business, and I’m fucking here for it.

Her hair’s pulled back into a high ponytail, a few rebellious strands framing her face as she focuses on her next set. The flush on her cheeks isn’t makeup—it’s pure effort, earned with every lift and every bead of sweat that slides down the side of her neck.

She’s not trying to impress anyone. That’s the kicker. No fake smiles, no posturing for attention. Just pure, unfiltered focus on herself. It’s intoxicating, the way she moves with quiet confidence, like she’s in her own world. And for a moment, I let myself think how easy it would be to pull her into mine.

Her strength is magnetic, but it’s the duality that gets me. She’s lethal yet doesn’t flaunt it. Beautiful, yet completely unaware of how much she commands the room without even trying. It’s raw, it’s real, and it’simpossibleto look away.

I keep my workout steady, timing my sets to hers, staying just close enough to keep her in my periphery.

She doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve already made her my target.

And I never, ever miss.

Chapter 4

EMBER

I stare at the video.My laptop glows, my heart pounding when I click start. This one is…different.

The video begins with a blurry view of a man’s face on a video call. He’s sitting in a cluttered room, his face cast in shadow but the terrified whites of his eyes staring at the screen. His voice quivers.

“I—I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it. I didn’t?—”

“Louder.Don’t fucking stop until you sound like you mean it and you’re not just afraid of me tracking you down and beating your ass.” Oh my god. It’s…it’s his voice.

The man flinches, looking anywhere but at the camera. “I’m—I’m sorry for what I said. I’m sorry I harassed her.”

My masked man’s voice is sharper, pressing. “Who?”

“Dream Mafia Queen,” he says in a rush of words. “I’m sorry.”

I stare, horror-stricken and somehow…warm with pleasure. He… did this… for me? It’s like the online version of cornering my schoolyard bully with a fist under his nose.

“Good. I’ll let that pass. Now delete the comments and delete your account. Everything.”

He nods frantically, his fingers scrambling over the keyboard. I scroll back to my comments as fast as my fingers can move and see every one of the hateful comments on my posts are gone.

My hands shake, my breath coming in shallow gasps. He did this online. He can’t threaten someone like this, he’ll get?—

Oh. Wait.

That’s when I note that this video is only for my eyes.

I stare and blink, shaking my head. What has he done?

I put my phone down, my emotions all over the place.

This…this crosses a line, he has to know that. I’m shaking my head in disbelief, still trying to process how I feel about this, when my DM’s ping.

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