Page 10 of Hunted to the Altar (Caputo Crime Family #3)

CHAPTER SEVEN

S amuel

The faint click of my watch as the second hand swept around its face was the only sound in the dimly lit penthouse.

The quiet was a fragile thing, wrapped in layers of order I’d meticulously maintained.

Every glass surface gleamed, every piece of furniture positioned precisely where it belonged.

Chaos couldn’t live here. Not in my space.

I sat at the dining table, fingers running over the edge of my sleeve, adjusting it until the crisp white cuff was perfectly aligned. A small ritual. One of many. My way of holding onto control when the world outside constantly threatened to unravel it.

But then there was Nina.

She sat on the far end of the couch, her body curled into itself like she could fold small enough to disappear.

The faintest line of tension traced her frame, from her rigid shoulders to the way her fingers gripped the hem of her shirt.

She was my opposite—a storm of raw edges and frayed emotions that didn’t belong in my carefully constructed life. And yet, I couldn’t look away.

I shouldn’t want her as much as I do. It was more than want—it was need.

She was chaos, and chaos was something I should destroy, not crave.

But my little bunny wasn’t just chaos. She was fragile and strong all at once, like a knife that could shatter or cut depending on how you held it. And I couldn’t stop holding her.

I turned my focus back to the room, scanning every detail for the fifth time since dinner.

My gaze lingered on the small mug she’d abandoned on the coffee table.

The handle faced the wrong direction, and the sight of it made my pulse tick faster.

I forced myself to stay seated, fingers twitching with the urge to fix it.

“Stop staring at me,” Nina snapped, breaking the silence. Bunny had claws today.

Her voice was sharper than usual, like a blade trying to find purchase. It only made me want her more. I leaned back, keeping my expression neutral as I studied her. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Yes, you were.”

I tilted my head slightly. “If I was, it’s because you’re hard to ignore.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she turned her gaze toward the window, refusing to meet my eyes. “You’re impossible,” she muttered.

I smiled faintly, but the warmth of the moment dissolved as a faint click outside the penthouse door caught my attention. My body tensed instantly, every muscle coiled and ready. My hand moved instinctively to the gun holstered beneath the table.

My little bunny must have noticed the shift in my demeanor because she turned to me, her brows furrowing. “What is it?”

“Stay quiet,” I ordered, my voice low but firm .

She opened her mouth to argue, but the sharpness of my look silenced her. I stood, every sense heightened as I crossed the room in controlled, deliberate strides. The sound came again—so faint most people wouldn’t have caught it, but I wasn’t most people.

Someone was outside.

My grip tightened on the gun as I moved toward the door, my heart pounding in a steady rhythm that drowned out everything else. The thought of anyone breaching my sanctuary filled me with an icy rage. This was my space, my domain. No one had the right to disturb it.

The door burst open before I reached it, and chaos erupted.

There were three of them. Masked, armed, and reckless. They moved with the confidence of people who thought they’d already won. That was their first mistake. Their second mistake was thinking they could take me on in my home.

I didn’t hesitate.

The first man lunged toward me, but I stepped aside easily, slamming the butt of my gun into his temple.

He crumpled to the floor, unconscious before he hit the ground.

The second attacker raised his weapon, but I was faster, firing a single shot that struck his shoulder.

He dropped his gun with a cry of pain, clutching at the wound as blood seeped between his fingers.

The third man hesitated, his gaze flicking between his injured partner and me. That hesitation cost him. I closed the distance between us in two swift strides, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the wall. His mask slipped, revealing wide, panicked eyes.

“Who sent you?” I demanded, my voice cold and unyielding.

He sputtered, his hands clawing at mine as he struggled to breathe. “I… I don’t know,” he choked out, his accent thick and unmistakably Sicilian.

“Wrong answer.”

I tightened my grip, watching as his face turned red, then purple. He struggled, wheezing and clawing, until he finally gasped out a single word: “Picone.”

The name hit me like a freight train. The Sicilians. Of course.

I released him just enough for him to suck in a desperate breath. “Why Nina?” I snarled, my voice low and venomous. “What does Picone want with her?”

“Leverage,” he rasped. “Against Caputo… against you.”

Rage surged through me, cold and consuming. I slammed him to the floor, my knee pressing into his shoulder blades as I twisted his arm behind his back. He screamed, the sound sharp and satisfying.

I dragged him toward the coffee table, yanking his head back by the hair as I pulled out my blade.

The cold steel glinted under the light as I pressed it against his neck.

“Leverage?” I whispered, leaning in close.

“You thought using her would work? Do you know what happens to those who touch what’s mine? ”

He whimpered, but I wasn’t done. I slid the blade down to his hand, gripping his wrist tightly. With one clean motion, I severed his pinky finger, his howl of pain cutting through the silence. Blood pooled on the pristine floor, and the sight of it filled me with a savage satisfaction.

“Tell Picone this,” I hissed, grabbing his face and forcing him to meet my gaze. “I’ll send him the pieces of every man he sends my way. One by one. Until there’s nothing left of his empire but ashes.”

He sobbed, nodding frantically. I stood, dragging him by the collar toward the door.

My gaze flicked to the other two bodies—one lifeless, the other twitching weakly on the floor.

“Take the bodies with you,” I ordered, shoving the living attacker toward the carnage.

“Let him know what happens when you come for me.”

The man stumbled, his hands trembling as he reached for his fallen comrades.

He avoided looking at me as he dragged their lifeless forms one by one toward the door, leaving a smeared trail of blood in his wake.

The metallic scent hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of fear that radiated from him.

I watched as he struggled from the loss of his pinky without lifting a hand to help him out. He huffed and puffed trying to grab hold of his men. The blood from his own wound mixing with theirs.

Once he was gone, the silence in the penthouse was deafening.

Nina stood frozen in the middle of the room, her hands covering her mouth as she stared at me with wide, horrified eyes. This wasn’t about protecting her from traffickers or strangers. This was me, in my element, destroying anyone who dared to disrupt my world. And she had seen it all.

“Nina,” I began, but she took a step back, her gaze flicking between me and the blood-streaked floor.

“You… you’re a monster,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

The words stung more than they should have, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I took a step toward her, keeping my movements slow and deliberate. “I’m whatever I need to be to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” she repeated, her voice rising. “You call this safe? You’re just as dangerous as they are!”

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm. “I’m the only reason you’re alive right now. Don’t forget that.”

Her gray eyes burned with defiance, even as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for you.”

My chest tightened at her words, but I didn’t let it stop me. Instead, I stepped closer, closing the distance between us until I was mere inches away. “You may not have asked for me, Nina. But you have me. And whether or not you like it, you’re mine.”

She flinched at my words, her breath hitching as she took another step back. But I didn’t let her get far. I reached out, grabbing her wrist gently but firmly, pulling her closer.

“This is the only way,” I said, my voice low and intense. “The only way to keep you safe. The Sicilian Mafia won’t stop, Nina. Not until they’ve destroyed everything I care about. And the only way to make them stop is to make sure they know you’re untouchable.”

She frowned, confusion flickering across her face. “What are you talking about?”

“You need to carry my name,” I said, the words coming out before I could stop them as I realized this was the best step forward. “Marry me. Make it official. Let the world know who you belong to.”

Her eyes widened, shock and disbelief warring in her expression. “You’re insane.”

“No,” I said firmly. “I’m strategic. And this is the only strategy that guarantees your survival.”

She shook her head, pulling her wrist free from my grasp. “I’ll never marry you.”

I let her go, my expression hardening. “You don’t have a choice, Nina. Not if you want to live.”

The words hung heavy in the air between us, a challenge neither of us would back down from. But deep down, I knew I would win. Because Nina was mine, and I always protected what was mine—no matter the cost.

The adrenaline didn’t fade even after the penthouse was cleaned. My shoulder ached sharply from the ass whooping I gave. I needed some ice and maybe rest. I wasn’t a young buck anymore.

“You’re hurt.” Nina’s voice broke the silence, laced with something I couldn’t place. Pity? Annoyance? Fear?

I glanced over at her, standing in the doorway to the living room, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “It’s nothing. ”

“You need ice.” She stepped closer, her brow furrowing as she took in the dark stain spreading across my side. “Sit down.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“I said, sit down,” she snarled, her tone brooking no argument. Her attitude should have irritated me, but it stirred something far more dangerous.

Reluctantly, I sank into the chair, watching as she disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a bag of peas. She knelt in front of me, her movements brisk and efficient as she unbuttoned my shirt and wrapped it around them. I let her work, watching as she held it between my shoulder blades.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, my voice low.

She didn’t look up. “Because someone has to. And clearly, you don’t take care of yourself.”

Her words struck a nerve I didn’t expect. Memories I worked hard to bury surfaced unbidden—my father’s cold indifference, my mother’s biting criticisms. Affection had been as rare in my childhood as chaos was in my home now. I’d learned early that the only person I could rely on was myself.

“I don’t need anyone,” I whispered, more to myself than to her.

“Everyone needs someone,” she replied without hesitation, her fingers gentle as she moved them around. “Even monsters.”

Her words hung heavy between us, a truth I wasn’t ready to face. But as her hands lingered on my skin, I couldn’t deny the strange comfort her touch brought. It unsettled me almost as much as it soothed me.

When she finally pulled back, her gaze met mine, and for a moment, the distance between us felt smaller than ever. “You can try to act like you don’t care, Samuel. But I see right through you.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Instead, I watched as she stood and walked away, leaving me alone with the weight of her words and the sting of something I couldn’t name.