Page 16 of Hunted to the Altar
My stomach twisted at the memory, and I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms. “Why don’t you let me take my chances, then?”
Samuel leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Because I don’t trust anyone else to keep you safe.”
The conviction in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like this, but hearing it up close, with his presence suffocating me, made it impossible to ignore the weight behind his words.
I twisted, my gray eyes locking onto his. “What makes you think I’m worth protecting?”
His gaze didn’t waver, his expression unreadable. “You do not know what you mean to the people hunting you. To me.”
His words felt like a slap. I stumbled back, bumping into the window, my pulse roaring in my ears. “This isn’t about me, is it? It’s about whatever game you’re playing with your mafia friends.”
Samuel’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it. That silence told me everything I needed to know.
We headed out of the room and downstairs. I sat at the kitchen island, staring blankly at the breakfast Samuel’s staff had prepared. The spread was almost infuriating in its perfection—eggs cooked just right, toast golden and crisp, and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. It was like the meal you’d see in a commercial, not the aftermath of a nightmare.
Samuel sat across from me, sipping his coffee with an air of calm that made me grit my teeth. He acted as though everything was normal, as though locking me in his penthouse and throwing me in a car trunk was just another Tuesday.
“Eat,” he said, his voice even.
I glared at him, crossing my arms over my chest. “No.”
Samuel set his coffee cup down, his movements deliberate, controlled. “You need to keep your strength up.”
“For what? More of your kidnappings?”
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like a man dealing with a stubborn child. “Nina, I will not argue with you about breakfast. Eat or don’t, but don’t expect me to feel sorry for you when you pass out later.”
My jaw tightened, but I refused to back down. “I don’t want your food. I don’t want your help. I want nothing from you.”
Samuel leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made me squirm. “And yet, here you are.”
The smugness in his tone was the last straw. I shot to myfeet, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I don’t have a choice!” I snapped. “You’ve taken everything from me—my sense of safety—and now you expect me to just... what? Be grateful?”
His expression darkened, and for a moment, I thought I might have pushed him too far. But instead of lashing out, he stood slowly, his movements measured.
“You think I like this?” he asked, his voice deceptively calm. “You think I enjoy being the one who has to keep you alive because you’re too damn stubborn to see the surrounding danger?”
I faltered, his words hitting harder than I’d expected. “I didn’t ask for your protection.”
“And I didn’t ask for this responsibility,” he shot back. “But here we are. So you can hate me all you want, Nina, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m the only thing standing between you and the people who want you dead.”
The absoluteness in his tone sent a chill down my spine. It was the way he said it, like it was a fact of the universe, like there was no room for argument. For the first time, I felt the full weight of what he was saying. Samuel wasn’t just protecting me because he felt like it—he believed, wholeheartedly, that it was his duty. And that terrified me more than anything.
The rest of the day passed in tense silence. Samuel stayed in the living room, alternating between his laptop and phone, while I paced the length of the penthouse like a caged animal. I tried to ignore the way his presence filled the space, but it was impossible. Even when he wasn’t looking at me, I could feel the weight of his attention, like an invisible tether tying us together.
It didn’t help that he worked with the same intensity he brought to everything else. His brows furrowed in concentration as his fingers danced over the keyboard, the glow of the screen reflecting off his sharp features. I glanced at him more often than I wanted to admit, my gaze lingering on the way hisshirt clung to his broad shoulders or the way his jaw tensed whenever he read something he didn’t like.
And then there were the moments when I caught him looking back.
It was infuriating. Every time our eyes met, my pulse would spike, and I’d quickly look away, pretending to be absorbed in whatever meaningless task I could come up with. But the heat of his gaze lingered, making my skin prickle with awareness. It wasn’t just that he was watching me—it was the way he did it, like he was peeling back my defenses layer by layer.
At one point, I caught him leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed as he studied me with a small, knowing smile. It was the look that made me feel like he could see straight through me, and it sent a surge of anger and something else I couldn’t name, coursing through my veins.
“What?” I snapped, unable to take the silence any longer.
Samuel didn’t look away. “You’re restless.”
“Gee, I wonder why,” I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest. “Maybe it has something to do with being held hostage by a control freak.”
