Page 26 of Hunted to the Altar (Caputo Crime Family #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY

S amuel

The quiet after the storm was always the hardest part.

The aftermath, when the blood had been cleaned, and the bodies removed, left a stillness that felt unnatural, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

I stood in the penthouse, the dim light of the setting sun casting long shadows across the polished floors.

The tension in the air was palpable, a thick, suffocating weight that pressed against my chest. Nina was upstairs.

I could feel her presence like a constant hum, pulling at my attention even as I tried to focus on the lingering threats outside these walls.

She was avoiding me. Again. It was almost amusing how predictable she’d become.

After everything we’d been through in the past twenty-four hours, I’d thought she might finally see reason.

But no, her resilience was still there, burning bright behind those wide, haunted eyes. It was infuriating. And intoxicating.

I made my way to the liquor cabinet, pouring myself a glass of whiskey.

The amber liquid caught the light, reminding me of the flames that seemed to ignite in Nina’s gaze every time she looked at me.

Fear and fury, coiled so tightly together that they were almost indistinguishable.

Almost. But I knew better. I knew which one she felt more keenly.

Fear. It was always fear.

I’d seen it last night when she’d flinched at the sight of the blood on my hands.

I’d felt it in the trembling of her fingers when I’d grabbed her to steady her.

She’d called me a monster, and she wasn’t wrong.

But what she didn’t understand, what she couldn’t understand, was that the monster she feared was the only thing keeping her alive.

The whiskey burned as it slid down my throat, a welcome distraction from the fire raging inside me.

I’d built my life on control, on order. Every move, every decision, was calculated, precise.

But Nina… She was chaos incarnate. A storm I couldn’t predict, couldn’t tame. And yet, I couldn’t look away.

I set the glass down, the clink of crystal against wood breaking the silence. My eyes drifted to the staircase, and before I could think better of it, I was moving. My footsteps were quiet, measured, as I ascended the stairs. I didn’t need to announce my presence. She always knew when I was near.

When I reached her door, I paused, my hand hovering over the handle. The urge to barge in, to remind her exactly who was in control, was strong. But I resisted. Instead, I knocked, the sound sharp and deliberate.

“Come in.” Her voice came, soft and hesitant.

I opened the door, stepping inside. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn tight against the fading light outside.

Nina sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Her gaze met mine, defiant as ever, but I could see the cracks in her armor.

The faint tremor in her hands, the way her shoulders tensed as if bracing for a blow. She was scared, and she hated it.

“We need to talk,” I said, keeping my voice calm, measured .

Her brow furrowed, and she looked away. “What could we possibly have to talk about?”

I crossed the room, closing the distance between us. She didn’t flinch, but I could see the way her body stiffened as I drew closer. I stopped a few feet away, giving her just enough space to feel like she had some semblance of control.

“This situation we’re in,” I said, gesturing between us. “It’s not sustainable. You know that as well as I do.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn’t respond. I took that as an opportunity to continue.

“You don’t trust me,” I said. “And I don’t blame you. But if we’re going to survive this, we need to find some common ground.”

Her gaze snapped back to mine, fire flashing in her eyes. “Survive this? You mean survive you?”

I smirked, tilting my head. “I’m not your biggest threat, Nina. The men outside, the ones who want to use you to get to me… They’re the ones you should be afraid of.”

“You don’t think I’m already afraid?” she snapped, her voice rising. “I’m terrified! Every moment I’m here I feel like I’m walking on a razor’s edge. And you…you just keep pushing me closer to the edge.”

Her outburst didn’t faze me. If anything, it only fueled the fire inside me. She was so alive, even in her fear. So fierce.

“I’m not here to push you over the edge,” I said, my tone softening. “I’m here to keep you from falling.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You’re delusional.”

“Maybe,” I admitted. “But that doesn’t change the reality we’re in. You’re safer here, with me, than you’d ever be out there on your own.”

“And what if I don’t want to be safe?” she challenged. “What if I want to leave? To take my chances out there?”

My jaw tightened, and I took a step closer. Her breath hitched, but she held her ground. “That’s not an option,” I said, my voice low and firm. “You’re staying here. With me. End of discussion.”

“You can’t keep me here forever,” she said, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear.

“Watch me,” I replied, a dark promise in my tone.

The silence that followed was heavy, the tension between us crackling like a live wire.

I could see the wheels turning in her head, the defiance warring with the fear.

She wanted to fight me, to claw her way out of this cage I’d built around her.

But she also knew that resistance was futile.

I had her exactly where I wanted her, and we both knew it.

“Fine,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll stay. For now.”

The victory tasted hollow, but I took it. I nodded, stepping back to give her space. “Good. Then we have an understanding.”

She didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the floor. I turned to leave, but her voice stopped me.

“Samuel,” she said, her tone hesitant.

I turned back to her, raising an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Why me?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Why am I the one you’re so determined to protect?”

The question caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to answer. Why her? Why did it matter so much that she stayed, that she was safe? I could’ve chalked it up to practicality, to the fact that she was a pawn in this game of power and betrayal. But that wasn’t the truth.

“Because you’re mine,” I said finally, my voice low and possessive. “And I won’t let you go.”

Her eyes widened, her lips parting as if to argue. But no words came. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken truths and unresolved tension. I turned and left the room, the sound of her sharp inhale following me.

I stood on the balcony, the cool night air biting at my skin. Below, the city sprawled out in a sea of lights and shadows, a reminder of the chaos lurking just beyond these walls. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, glancing at the screen.

“It’s done,” the voice on the other end said.

“Good,” I replied, my tone clipped. “Keep the pressure on. I want them to know that coming after her is a death sentence.”

“Understood.”

I ended the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket. My gaze drifted back to the city, but my thoughts were elsewhere. Back in that room with Nina. She was a puzzle I couldn’t quite solve, a storm I couldn’t control. And yet, I couldn’t walk away.

Lately, I’d been noticing little things about her.

The way she’d absentmindedly rest a hand on her stomach when she thought no one was looking.

The subtle shift in her appetite, how she’d pick at her food as if the thought of eating made her nauseous.

The constant weariness clinging to her movements, even on the rare days she smiled like she meant it — even when she tried to pretend she was fine.

I’d seen it before. I’d seen it in women who had carried life within them. And while she hadn’t said anything—hadn’t even acknowledged the possibility herself—I knew.

She was pregnant.

My child was growing inside her.

It had only been a few weeks since the attack, since everything changed between us. Long enough to start noticing the signs. Long enough for hope to sink its claws into me.

The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying. I hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t expected it. But now that it was happening, I couldn’t imagine anything more important.

Nina might hate me.

She might fight me every step of the way.

But she couldn’t fight this. She couldn’t fight what was already happening inside her .

And still, I said nothing.

I wasn’t ready to confront her with the truth—to see the fury or the fear in her eyes when she realized what this meant. So I held onto it like a secret between us.

Watching her.

Waiting.

She would stay.

Not because she wanted to, but because she had no choice.

Because she was mine. And now so was the life she carried. I would protect them both—no matter what it took.

And yet, I said nothing. I wasn’t ready to confront her with the truth, to see the fear and anger in her eyes when she realized what this meant.

So I kept it to myself, watching her closely, waiting for the right moment.

If there was ever such a thing as the right moment in a world as dark and twisted as ours.

But as I looked out over the city, I felt the weight of the decisions I would soon have to make. The lines I’d have to cross to keep her safe. The sacrifices she’d never understand. And I knew, deep down, that nothing about this would be easy.

She might despise me now, but she would thank me one day. When she held our child, safe and alive. When she saw the lengths I’d gone to for her, for them. Until then, I would bear her hatred. I would let it fuel me. Because in the end, it didn’t matter how she felt about me.

As I turned back toward the city, a flicker of movement caught my eye—one of my guards repositioning himself on the perimeter. Always vigilant. Always ready. It was a stark reminder that our world was on the brink of chaos, and I couldn’t afford to lose focus. Not now. Not ever.

I returned to the penthouse and found myself outside Nina’s door once again. This time, I didn’t knock. Instead, I turned the handle and stepped inside. She looked up, startled, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice sharp .

“To talk,” I replied, closing the door behind me. “Properly this time.”

She crossed her arms, clearly bracing herself. “I’ve heard enough of your speeches.”

I ignored her words and moved closer. “I’m trying to meet you halfway, Nina. But you have to let me.”

Her laugh was bitter. “Meet me halfway? You mean control me entirely?”

I sighed, my patience wearing thin. “You think this is easy for me? That I want to keep you here like this?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “Because it gives you power.”

For a moment, I let my guard slip, my voice softening. “No. Because it keeps you safe.”

The vulnerability in my tone seemed to catch her off guard, and for a fleeting second, I thought I saw something shift in her expression. But just as quickly, her walls went back up.

“I don’t need your protection,” she said, but her voice wavered, betraying her uncertainty.

“You might not want it,” I said, stepping closer until I was looming over her. “But you need it. And whether you like it or not, I’m not letting you go.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her disobedience flickering like a dying flame. I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She flinched, but I didn’t pull back.

“You’re mine, Nina,” I murmured. “And I protect what’s mine.”