Page 76 of Hunted to the Altar

"I’m going to fix this," I said hoarsely. "Even if you never forgive me. I’m going to fix myself."

She didn’t speak.

But when I reached out and took her hand, threading my fingers through hers?—

She didn’t pull away.

She just lay there.

Broken.

Breathing.

Alive.

And for the first time, I understood redemption wasn’t something you claimed. It was something you bled for.

One broken, bleeding step at a time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Samuel

The firein the hearth had long since died, leaving behind only the charred remains of wood and memory. The ash curled against the stone like a final breath.

I sat alone in the center of it all—my empire of silence, my kingdom of ruin.

The glass of whiskey in my hand trembled faintly. I hadn’t eaten. I hadn’t slept. Time had lost all meaning.

Only one truth remained:

I had broken the only thing that had ever truly belonged to me.

And no matter how much money I threw at it, no matter how many gifts I laid at her feet, no matter how many enemies I buried for her?—

She would never be whole again.

Because of me.

The first attempthad been jewelry.

Custom pieces, crafted by the most expensive hands in Europe. Diamonds that could blind the gods themselves.

Nina barely glanced at them as she wheeled past, her hands steady on the rims of her chair, her eyes fixed somewhere beyond me.

The second attempt had been the house itself.

Renovations. Wings torn down and rebuilt. I ordered the installation of elevators, ramps, anything that might make this prison seem less like a cage.

When she returned from therapy and found the dust in the air, the men hammering and sawing?—

She turned her chair and left without a word.

I stood in the wreckage, the sounds of construction filling the hollow spaces of my chest, and knew it wasn't enough.

It would never be enough.

I watched her in stolen moments.