Page 79 of Untamed

“Wait,” he says softly, his voice a mix of command and reassurance. He pushes the door open, stepping in first like he’s daring whatever’s inside to come for him. The sight of his broad shoulders—tense, ready for anything—shouldn’t calm me, but it does.

The apartment looks normal at first glance, but as we step inside, the air feels heavier. My gaze lands on the corner of the coffee table, where my packages are piled neatly. Too neatly. My breath catches.

“Someone’s been here,” I whisper, my voice trembling. I walk to the bathroom, Rodion trailing me. Unlike the packages, here it’s a mess, like someone’s come in here and deliberately mussed things up.

I look away from the mess, bile burning the back of my throat. When I was a child, I always tried to keep things tidy and neat. It made me feel like I had a semblance of control. My mother would tease me, and even the teachers at school would write notes about my “borderline obsessive need for order and tidiness.”

Shawn loved to mock me.

I stare at the rolls of toilet paper scattered on the floor, the towels disorganized, and my toiletries opened and tipped.

Rodion’s jaw tightens. “Not someone,” he says, scanning the room with predatory precision.

“What-what do I do?”

He turns to me, those dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs. “He was probably looking for evidence that I live here,” he says, his tone as calm as if he’s discussing the weather. “Now that he knows I don’t, he’ll be back.”

Shit.

A chill races down my spine. “When?”

“Tonight,” he answers, no hesitation. “That’s why we’re leaving.”

“Leaving?” My voice pitches higher. “Where?—”

“New York.” The word drops like a stone. His hand reaches for mine, grounding me in the storm brewing inside me. “I need you to trust me,kotyonok.”

My pulse races under his steady grip. Trust him? I search his face, looking for something—anything—to make this less terrifying. And there it is: the softness that shouldn’t belong to a man like him. It lingers in the curve of his mouth, the faintest tenderness in his voice. It almost fools me.

But when he mentions Shawn, his entire expression shifts. That softness hardens into something dark, dangerous. Protective. And somehow… it makes me feel safer than I ever have in my life.

I know my answer.

I nod, my voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. I trust you.”

His thumb brushes over my knuckles, a fleeting touch that sends heat spiraling through me. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and just like that, my knees go weak.

“New York,” I say, more to myself than him. “I’ve never even left California.”

Rodion’s gaze cuts to me, softer now but no less intense. “Maybe it’s time you see what the rest of the world has to offer.”

He takes my hand again, holding it like he’s afraid I’ll slip away. And for the first time, I let myself lean into it, letting him anchor me in this new, terrifying, thrilling reality.

I can’t shake the feeling that this is all just a fairy tale. Just a made-up dream of made-up people, and when I open my eyes and wake, I’ll remember who I am and why I’m here.

I can’t lie. A part of me can’t help but imagine a future together. But that can’t be.

I might fangirl over a masked man with tats and Bratva ties, but in real life… is this really what I want?

For now, I’m going to enjoy this.

For now, I’m going to… pretend thisisreal.

Chapter 18

RODION

If that motherfuckershows his face, he’s a dead man walking. A fuckingdead man.

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