Page 58 of Hunted to the Altar

“I warned you, my little bunny. Now you’ll never run again.”

He stood, adjusting his cufflinks like I was already handled.

“Take her to the doctor,” he ordered, “And dispose of the dead guard.” He then walked off like the chaos he left behind meant nothing, that my pain meant nothing. He’d purposely maimed me. He purposely shot me, a pregnant woman carrying his baby, without remorse.

I felt my heart turn to stone. There would be no escape from him. Not now. Not ever.

A sob tore from me, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the pain or the sick realization that a part of me had always known this moment was coming. That no matter how fast I ran, this would be where I ended up.

Despite his declaration that I was not to be touched, I guess he gave the go ahead for his men to give basic first aid and lift me onto a stretcher that arrived a couple minutes later. When we passed him again, Samuel reached out and gripped my chin, forcing my eyes to his. There was something wild in him. Triumphant. Hungry.

“You belong to me, Nina. Forever.”

Then he kissed me.

Kissed me like my lips weren’t covered in sweat, blood, and tears.

Firm. Branding. Possessive.

It should’ve made me scream in frustration if not all out rage and despair.

Instead, my heart twisted with something far worse: recognition.

Because even now — even broken, humiliated, bleeding — my body still reacted to him. That cruel, unkillable pull between us hadn’t vanished. It was still there, tangled with the hate. The shame.

They carried me back to the Villa. Samuel followed close behind.

“You understand now, don’t you?” he said gently, mockingly. “You can’t run, Nina. You never could.”

I wanted to hurt him. Claw at his face. Scream until I couldn’t breathe. But I just trembled, staring at the man who had shattered me and still somehow owned me.

And then he smiled. Shut the door. Took his knives out their holsters and placed them on the foyer table was just another Tuesday.

He even whistled.

A wail swelled in my throat, but I swallowed it. There was no comfort in sound. No relief.

There was only pain. And the slow, suffocating truth.

No escape.

No future without him.

No freedom for me — or the life now growing inside me.

Each bump in the road sent shocks of agony through my body, but the pain in my limbs was nothing compared to what bloomed inside my chest.

I had believed, stupidly, that I had a way out. That I could still choose something better.

But Samuel had taken that away with a single shot.

Not just to my knee — but to everything I thought I was.

And the worst part?

That hollow ache in my chest wasn’t just fear.

It was need.