Page 29 of Hunted to the Altar (Caputo Crime Family #3)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

S amuel

I sat in the living room, my elbows resting on my knees, watching as the doctor—Antonio Caputo, my cousin, and one of the famiglia’s most trusted physicians—carefully examined Nina’s leg.

Antonio’s sharp features and piercing green eyes were a stark contrast to the brutal world we inhabited.

He was calm, methodical, and disgustingly handsome, always immaculately dressed even while patching up bullet wounds or setting broken bones.

His white button-up shirt and tailored slacks looked out of place against the grim backdrop of this moment.

His arrival from Italy had been unexpected but necessary.

The Picone threat wasn’t confined to borders, and Antonio’s presence was a reminder of just how far this war stretched.

Nina refused to look at me, her jaw tight, her hands clenched into fists against the armrests of the wheelchair I had brought in for her.

Her silence wasn’t peace; it was rage simmering under the surface, ready to boil over.

Every inch of her was taut, her shoulders stiff with unspoken fury.

The fire in her eyes, even when she tried to avoid mine, scorched me in ways I hadn’t expected.

She was a storm in fragile flesh, but I knew that beneath her fury was a foundation I had fractured.

Because when her rage finally waned, she would ultimately see this act as betrayal. True betrayal.

If I were a better man, I would let Nina go, especially after this.

But I was not a better man. I had never been her hero. Only her villain.

Antonio glanced at me briefly before straightening.

“The fracture is clean. She’ll heal with time and physical therapy, but she needs rest. No weight on her leg for at least eight weeks.

” His tone was professional, but there was a flicker of judgment in his eyes—a silent rebuke he didn’t dare voice.

I nodded curtly, barely hearing the words. My eyes were on Nina. She still refused to meet my gaze, her lip trembling with the effort of holding herself together. Antonio packed his bag, but as he moved toward the door, he paused, his hand on the frame.

“Samuel,” he said quietly, his voice low enough that Nina wouldn’t hear. “You’re walking a dangerous line. Be careful you don’t break something that can’t be fixed.”

I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. Antonio’s warnings were unnecessary. I wasn’t worried about breaking Nina; I was worried about the pieces of myself that might shatter.

Antonio gave me one last look—a mix of pity and disappointment—before continuing. “And Samuel…maybe it’s time to consider coming back to Italy. The Picones aren’t afraid of borders. You’re stronger at home.”

“This is home now,” I replied, my tone leaving no room for argument.

Antonio sighed, shaking his head. “Don Caputo will want to hear about this. Your rebellion and…attachment are risks. You’re not seeing clearly.

But I’ll make my report.” He cast one last glance at Nina before leaving the room.

The soft click of the door reverberated through the tension in the room.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Nina’s hands tightened on the wheelchair’s armrests, the creak of the leather faint but telling. Her knuckles were pale from the pressure, and her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line.

“You’re going to make a full recovery,” I said, my voice low, measured. “I’ve arranged for the best care.”

She snapped her head toward me, her eyes blazing with fury. “The best care?” Her voice was sharp, venomous. “I’m pregnant. And you shot my kneecap, Samuel! Do you think a wheelchair and a doctor make up for that?”

I could’ve cut them off; she should be grateful.

The venom in her tone cut through me, a sharper pain than any physical blow I’d ever endured.

I had expected anger, but the depth of her hatred was like a dagger twisting in my chest. Still, I couldn’t falter.

My resolve was the only thing keeping her and the child she carried safe, whether she understood it or not.

I flinched internally, but my exterior remained calm. Instead of answering her, I leaned back in my chair, draping an arm over the backrest. I couldn’t give her an opening. Not now.

“It was necessary,” I said simply, my tone as cold and unyielding as steel.

Her laugh was harsh, and it echoed in the cavernous room like a warning. “Necessary? You’re insane.”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, pinning her with a stare that had broken men twice her size. “I’m keeping you safe,” I countered, my voice low and hard. “If I’d let you run, you would have been caught. Killed. Is that what you wanted? ”

Her face twisted, a mixture of pain and resistance. “Anything would be better than being your prisoner.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, but I didn’t let it show. I rose from the chair, my movements slow and deliberate. The tension between us thickened, coiling like a living thing. I walked to the window, gripping the edge of the sill so tightly my knuckles turned white.

Her words lingered in the air, a ghost I couldn’t shake. The world outside seemed so distant, the city lights blurred by the haze of my thoughts. I took a slow, deep breath, before forcing myself to speak.

“You don’t understand the world outside these walls,” I said, my voice a dangerous whisper. “You think you can escape me and live a quiet life? They’ll hunt you, Nina. You’re a pawn in a game far bigger than you can comprehend.”

She laughed again, the sound devoid of humor. “And what am I here?” she spat. “Your broken doll? Your toy? Don’t pretend you’re doing this for me, Samuel. This is about your sick need for control.”

Her words clawed at something deep inside me, something I didn’t want to face. I turned to her, my chest heaving with the effort of holding back the tide of emotions threatening to drown me.

“You’re alive because of me,” I said, my voice cold, unyielding. “You hate me for it, but you’re breathing. That’s more than you can say for anyone else who’s crossed me.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. The sight of her pain cut through me, but I couldn’t let it show. I couldn’t afford to show weakness. Not now. Not ever.

“I don’t want your protection. I want nothing from you,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute.

The words struck me harder than any blow I’d ever taken. For a moment, I didn’t move, didn’t speak. Then, slowly, I approached her. She tensed as I knelt in front of her wheelchair, my hands resting lightly on the armrests, caging her in but not touching her.

“You don’t have a choice,” I said softly, my voice a dark caress. “I’ve given you everything, Nina. My time, my resources, my protection. You belong to me now. Whether you like it or not.”

Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she fought to hold onto her anger. But I saw the crack in her armor, the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. She hated me, but she couldn’t deny the twisted connection between us.

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

I tilted my head, studying her. “And yet, here you are. Alive. Safe. Because of this monster.”

Her tears spilled over then, silent but relentless. She turned her head away, refusing to let me see the full extent of her pain. But I saw it anyway, and it tore something open inside me.

Without thinking, I reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek. She flinched at the contact, but I didn’t pull away. “Hate me all you want,” I murmured. “But don’t forget who’s keeping you alive.”

She jerked her face away, her voice breaking as she said, “I’d rather be dead than be yours.”

The words hit like a physical blow, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My hand fell away, and I rose to my feet, my body vibrating with suppressed rage. She didn’t understand. She didn’t see that everything I did was for her.

“You don’t mean that,” I said finally, my voice low, dangerous.

“Yes, I do,” she shot back, her voice shaking but resolute. “I’ll never be yours, Samuel. Never.”

I stepped back, my hands curling into fists at my sides. The room felt too small, the walls closing in. I wanted to lash out, to destroy something, but I turned and stormed toward the door.

“You’ll see,” I said over my shoulder, my voice cold as ice. “ One day, you’ll understand. And when that day comes, you’ll thank me.”

I left the room, slamming the door behind me. My chest heaved as I leaned against the wall, my mind a whirlwind of rage and despair. She didn’t see it yet, but she would. She had to. Because if she didn’t–

I didn’t finish the thought. I couldn’t. All I knew was that I couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.

Later that night, I stood outside her door, my hand resting on the doorknob. I didn’t know why I was there. I told myself it was to check on her, to make sure she was alright. But deep down, I knew the truth. I needed to see her, to reassure myself that she was still there.

I opened the door quietly, stepping inside.

The room was dark, but the faint glow of the city lights streaming through the window illuminated her form on the bed.

She was curled up on her side, her breathing steady but shallow.

Even in sleep, she looked fragile, her face etched with lines of pain and exhaustion.

I approached the bed, my footsteps silent.

I didn’t touch her, didn’t dare disturb her.

Instead, I sank into the chair by the window, watching her.

She was beautiful, even now, with her hair spread out across the pillow like a dark halo.

But it wasn’t just her beauty that held me captive.

It was her strength, her utter opposition.

She was the only person who had ever dared to stand up to me, to challenge me.

And that made her mine in a way no one else could ever be.

The following morning, I stood in the hallway outside her room. I couldn’t bring myself to go in. Maybe I should feel some sense of remorse for what I’d done. But she couldn’t leave the cage now. She was forced to be mine. And now, I’d own it.

I knocked lightly before pushing the door open. Nina sat in her wheelchair, her eyes narrowing the moment she saw me. Her jaw tightened.

“I came to check on you,” I said, my tone as even as I could manage. “See if you need any help getting around.”

She didn’t answer. The silence stretched between us, taut as a wire. Finally, she moved herself back onto the bed. Warding off my attempt to help her.

“I saw it this morning. You think this changes anything?” she asked, her voice low, almost a growl. “You think a shiny new chair is going to make me forget what you did?”

“No,” I said firmly, meeting her glare head-on. “But it’ll make your life easier. Whether you accept it as an apology or not is up to you.”

Her lip curled, a bitter laugh escaping her. “An apology? That’s rich, coming from you.”

I stepped closer, placing the wheelchair beside the bed. She stiffened but didn’t move. “I’m not asking for forgiveness,” I said, my voice softer now. “I’m asking you to use it. That’s all.”

She stared at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she sighed and shifted her weight forward, allowing me to help her into the chair. The tension in her body was palpable, but she didn’t resist. I adjusted the footrests carefully, ensuring she was comfortable.

“I’ll use it,” she said quietly, her eyes fixed on the floor. “But don’t think for a second that means I forgive you.”

I nodded, stepping back. Her words stung, but I didn’t let it show. This wasn’t about forgiveness. It was about keeping her alive, whether she hated me for it or not.

As I turned to leave, her voice stopped me. “Why are you doing this, Samuel? Why pretend to care?”

I paused in the doorway, my hand on the frame. “Because I do care,” I said simply. “More than you’ll ever understand.”