Page 19 of Hunted to the Altar (Caputo Crime Family #3)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

N ina

The walls of the safehouse, so lavish and cold, had become both my sanctuary and my prison.

Each passing day only blurred the line between the two.

By now, I had memorized every detail of the place—the intricate designs on the crown molding, the soft hum of the air conditioning, the muted gleam of the marble floors that felt more like an arena than a home.

It was all gilded misery, and I was its captive queen.

The morning had begun quietly, the kind of deceptive stillness that only meant trouble was brewing. I woke up with a weight pressing down on me.

Even in sleep, he kept me caged, one heavy arm draped possessively over my waist, his fingers slack against my hip but still there—still a silent warning. My breath came slow and measured, though my pulse hammered beneath the surface.

If I was careful, I could slip away.

My muscles tensed as I slowly inched toward the edge of the bed, peeling myself from his grip. His fingers twitched, but he didn’t stir. I held my breath, waiting, before moving again—one slow, painstaking inch at a time until I was free.

The scent of coffee lingered in the air, and I followed it like a lifeline. If I was lucky, I’d get a few moments to myself before Samuel woke up and ruined them.

I reached the kitchen just as I heard footsteps.

My stomach clenched.

The doors hadn’t even fully opened when heavy boots pounded onto the marble floors, cutting through the quiet. A man barreled in, out of breath, eyes wild as they locked onto me like I was the last person he expected to see standing there.

“Where’s Samuel?” he barked, reaching for the gun holstered at his hip.

I went rigid.

I knew this one—Matteo, one of Samuel’s men, I think. The one who barely looked at me unless it was to make sure I wasn’t doing something I shouldn’t be. But right then, his usual impassiveness was gone. His jaw was clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might crack.

“He’s—” My voice came out hoarse, unused. I swallowed and tried again. “He’s asleep.”

Matteo muttered a curse, reaching for his radio as he turned back toward the front entrance.

“What’s going on?” I pressed, my voice steadier than I felt.

“A rival wants to renegotiate terms,” Mateo said, his tone clipped. “And you’re part of their demands.”

Samuel came out of the bedroom fixing his cuffs.

The words hit me like a slap. “Me?”

He nodded, his blue eyes burning with a mix of anger and something else—something darker. “They want you in exchange for peace.”

“Report, Mateo.” The two whispered between each other as I freaked out over what was just said to me. Why me? I didn’t understand at all.

My stomach churned, nausea clawing its way up my throat. “W-what did you say?”

Samuel’s gaze locked onto mine, unwavering and deadly serious. “I said no.”

The room seemed to tilt beneath me, the weight of his words pressing down like a physical force. I wanted to feel relief, gratitude even, but all I felt was dread. “Then why do they want me?”

He ran a hand through his hair, his movements tense. “Because they will not take no for an answer.”

My thoughts churned, a chaotic mix of fear, anger, and confusion. Why was this happening? How had my life spiraled so far out of control?

“You’re quiet,” Samuel said suddenly, breaking the silence.

I turned to him, my glare sharp. “What am I supposed to say? Thanks for not selling me off to the highest bidder?”

His lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. “You’re welcome.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Enjoying it?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you think I enjoy being put in this position? Having to fight off enemies on all sides while protecting you?”

“I didn’t ask for your protection,” I snapped.

“No, but you need it,” he shot back, his gaze narrowing. “Whether you like it or not.”

I turned away, my nails digging into my palms. He wasn’t wrong, and that only made me hate him more.

“Stay here,” Samuel ordered as we entered the living room. He gestured for one of his men to stand guard by the door. “Don’t leave this room unless I say so.”

I bristled at his tone, but before I could argue, he was gone, disappearing into another room with his men. The door closed behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts .

I sank onto the couch, my hands trembling as I tried to process everything. The rival mafia, the demand for my handover, Samuel’s refusal—it was all too much. My mind raced with possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. What if they came here? What if Samuel couldn’t protect me?

What if I ended up back in a cage?

The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I hated feeling this weak, this powerless. But no matter how hard I tried to summon my old strength, it felt just out of reach.

Suddenly, there was an explosion that shook the building, the sound deafening and the force knocking me off the couch. My ears rang as I scrambled to my feet, panic surging through me like a tidal wave.

Samuel burst into the room, his gun drawn and his expression lethal. “Get down!” he barked, grabbing my arm and pulling me behind him.

The next few minutes were a blur of chaos. Gunfire echoed through the halls, the sharp cracks making me flinch with each shot. Samuel’s men shouted orders, their voices drowned out by the cacophony of violence. I clung to Samuel, my heart pounding as he guided me toward a hidden door in the wall.

“In here,” he said, shoving the door open to reveal a small, reinforced room. “Stay put.”

“No,” I protested, grabbing his arm. “You can’t go out there.”

His gaze softened, just for a moment, and he reached up to cup my face. “I’ll be fine. Just stay here. Please.”

Before I could argue further, he closed the door, locking me inside. I banged on it, shouting his name, but he didn’t come back. The sounds of the fight raged on outside, each gunshot making my chest tighten with fear.

I sank to the floor, my hands trembling as I pressed them to my ears, trying to block out the noise. Tears streamed down my face, and I hated myself for it. I hated feeling so helpless, so dependent on the very man I despised.

Minutes felt like hours, each one stretching longer than the last. The muffled sounds of fighting ebbed and flowed, and every time they seemed to quiet, a new burst of gunfire would erupt.

My thoughts raced wildly, conjuring images of Samuel’s bloodied body, of the door being forced open by men who had no intention of showing mercy.

When the gunfire finally stopped, the silence was almost worse. I sat there, frozen, until the door opened and Samuel stepped inside. His suit was torn, his knuckles bloodied, and there was a cut above his eye, but he was alive.

“It’s over,” he said, his voice low and steady. “For now.”

I launched myself at him, my emotions spilling over as I clung to him. He stiffened for a moment, clearly surprised, but then his arms wrapped around me, holding me tight.

“You’re safe,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my hair. “I promise, you’re safe.”

But as I buried my face in his chest, the faint scent of blood and gunpowder clinging to him, I couldn’t help but wonder how long that safety would last.

The aftermath was just as brutal as the attack itself.

Samuel’s men worked quickly to clear the bodies, their movements efficient but grim.

Blood stained the floors, a stark reminder of how close we had come to death.

Samuel stayed by my side, his hand firm on my back as if afraid I might disappear if he let go.

“Who were they?” I asked finally, my voice hoarse.

“Sicilians,” he said, his jaw tight. “Picone’s men.”

The name sent a chill down my spine. Picone. I’d heard the name whispered in terror during my captivity, a shadowy figure who seemed more myth than man. And now, his reach had found me again.

Samuel turned his attention back to the mess at hand, his tone sharp as he directed his men. “Take the bodies out the back. Leave one of them intact enough to deliver the message. They need to know who they’re dealing with.”

The men nodded, dragging the lifeless forms through the crimson-streaked hallways.

I watched in silent horror, unable to tear my eyes away from the trail of blood smeared across the once-pristine marble floor.

Samuel caught my gaze and stepped closer, his expression softening slightly as he cupped my chin, forcing me to look up at him.

“Don’t think about it,” he said, his voice low but firm. “This is what it takes to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I don’t feel safe, Samuel. I feel like a pawn in some twisted game.”

He exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing against my jaw. “It’s safe because I’ve made it so. My rat knows their movements now. And you’re not a pawn. You’re the queen. And the queen is always protected.”

The words should have comforted me, but they didn’t.

Instead, they only reinforced the walls closing in around me.

Samuel turned away, his demeanor shifting back to the ruthless enforcer as he continued issuing orders.

But even as he moved through the chaos, his presence remained tethered to me, an unrelenting force I couldn’t escape.

I sank onto the couch, my knees pulling to my chest, as I tried to steady my breathing.

The metallic scent of blood lingered in the air, mingling with the faint trace of Samuel’s cologne.

My thoughts swirled, the events of the day replaying in vivid detail.

No matter how hard I tried to rationalize it, one truth became increasingly clear: There was no escaping this world. No escaping him.

The cleanup stretched into the early hours of the morning.

The sounds of bodies being dragged, the faint squelch of blood-soaked fabric against the marble, and the inaudible murmurs of Samuel’s men created a grotesque symphony that I couldn’t block out.

I sat frozen, my mind replaying the explosion, the gunfire, and Samuel’s unflinching brutality.

At one point, I heard him barking orders from another room, his voice carrying the authority that left no room for argument.

He reappeared moments later, his suit jacket discarded, his shirt rolled up to reveal blood-smeared forearms. His expression was unreadable, but his movements were deliberate as he approached me.

“You need to rest,” he said, his tone softer than I expected. “Come on.”

I stared at him, my body refusing to move. “I can’t.”

He crouched down in front of me, his blue eyes piercing. “You can. You will. This isn’t over, Nina. We need to be ready for whatever comes next.”

“Whatever comes next?” I echoed, my voice cracking. “Samuel, I can’t keep living like this. I… I?—”

He placed a hand on my knee, grounding me. “You’re stronger than you think. And as long as you’re with me, you’ll survive. Do you understand?”

I nodded reluctantly, tears welling in my eyes. He stood, extending a hand to me. For a moment, I hesitated, but then I placed my hand in his, letting him pull me to my feet.

As he led me toward the bedroom, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder at the crimson-streaked floors, a chilling reminder of the life I was now entangled in. Samuel squeezed my hand gently, pulling my attention back to him.

“Focus on me,” he breathed. “Not them. Not the blood. Me.”

For the first time that night, I felt a flicker of something unfamiliar—not safety, not comfort, but a fragile thread of trust. It terrified me more than anything else.