Page 88 of Untamed

“I didn’t expect such a welcome party,” I say smoothly, aware of Ember’s nervous breathing and shaking beside me. I know the sight before her is probably terrifying—Rafail, his dark, assessing eyes narrowed on the two of us, his lips curled in a not-quite-there smile. Semyon, his gaze cold and calculating behind thin glasses, as aloof and threatening as always. My cousin Matvei, large and looming with his weapondrawn,beside them. All are dressed in business casual as if they’re ready to step out to grab dinner with consultants.

“Put it away, Matvei,” I say in a low voice. “Jesus.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he slips the gun in a holster, but his stance doesn’t change.

“So this is the girl you brought,” Rafail says.

Well, thanks for the warm family greeting.

“This is Ember. And yes, she’s with me. Why the welcome party?”

We step off the elevator. Jesus, I hope no one heard her moans in the elevator shaft.

Rafail’s tone is icy. “You sure this is a good idea, Rodion?”

My fingers tighten on Ember’s hand, my voice as sharp as a razor. “Excuse me?”

“This is the one you asked me to expedite home.”

Rage threads through my limbs as I shake my head. I don’t appreciate the note of derision or how he’s talking about Ember like she’s fucking cargo. “Obviously, yes. Someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on? Where are the girls?”

Rafail jerks his head to the corner of the room. “Kitchen. Before you see them, we have to have a little talk. What the hell are you two playing with, Rodion?”

I haven’t heard this tone of voice since I was a fucking child.

“What are you talking about?”

Oh, shit.

Maybe they found my social media account. If they found my account, I’m fucking screwed. But then… why are they looking at Ember as if she’s the enemy?

Rafail shifts, tucking his hands in his pockets, but it doesn’t make him look more casual, just more calculating. He and Semyon share a knowing look.

What the fuck?

“I didn’t know you allowed her to post videos online about us,” Rafail says.

What?

“What are you talking about?”

Semyon pulls out a tablet and taps a few buttons. Are they really going to give her shit about having a book account about mafia men? Those are fiction. They should know?—

Oh no.

I stare at the video, cold awareness curling in my gut.

Jesus.

“When did you take that video, Ember?” I ask, my grip on her tightening. I’m careful not to hurt her, even though I want toshake her.

It’s her on the plane, holding a book up. Onourplane.

“Where was I?”

It’s a viral post, with thousands of messages and millions of views coming in as we speak. Damning. Incriminating.

“I don’t know what happened,” she says, shaking her head. Even though her eyes are wide with fear, her voice is tinged with the ferocity I love about her.

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