Page 49 of Hunted to the Altar
Her words stung, more than I cared to admit. But I couldn’t afford to let her see that. I pushed her back, careful not to hurt her but firm enough to make my point. She stumbled, falling to the floor, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and fury.
“Don’t test me, Nina,” I warned, my voice cold. “This is what happens to those who betray me.”
Her tears were silent now, streaming down her face as she stared at me in horror. The sight of her broken expression sent a pang through my chest, but I shoved it down. I couldn’t afford to feel guilt. Not now.
I looked at him and saw the defeated man in front of me. Maybe Nina was right. It was enough. I lifted my hand with myknife as if I was going to strike him again when I saw her movement in the corner of my eye.
Nina turned away, her hands covering her ears as if that could block out the next sounds. Her horror at the scene finally permeated my rage filled brain. I let the knife clatter to the table, the metallic ring cutting through the heavy silence.
“Take him away,” I ordered my men, my voice steady despite the surrounding chaos. “Let him live, but make sure he remembers this.” I didn’t need to be there to see them kick his ass. I had a wife to take care of.
They nodded, dragging Marcello’s limp body out of the room. The bloodstains on the floor were a stark reminder of what had just transpired, a brutal testament to my wrath.
I turned to Nina, who was still on the floor, her body trembling. I crouched down in front of her, cupping her face in my bloodied hand. She flinched but didn’t pull away.
“You’re mine, Nina,” I hissed, my voice carrying a dangerous edge. “And I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means becoming the monster you think I am.”
Her silence was deafening, her tears louder than any words she could have spoken. I stood, the weight of her gaze heavy on my back as I walked away. But the image of her broken expression stayed with me, a reminder of the price of my actions—and the man I had become.
As I ascended the steps from the basement, my mind returned to Marcello’s betrayal. There was no remorse in me. How could there be? He had overstepped, blatantly disregarded my orders, and endangered Nina. In my world, such disobedience was unforgivable. It wasn’t about pride; it was about control — about sending a message to anyone who thought they could cross me and walk away unscathed.
Marcello had known the rules. He had sworn loyalty, not only to thefamiglia, but to me.
But Marcello had always believed in a higher loyalty — oneto his own sense of right and wrong. It had been his greatest strength, once. His willingness to question orders, to protect the vulnerable.
This time, it became his weakness.
By helping Nina, he hadn’t just disobeyed; he had defied the foundation of everything we stood for.
He had made it appear as though I couldn’t handle my own wife, as though my hold on her was weak.
And that was something I could never allow. Weakness in this life was a death sentence, and I refused to give my enemies even the smallest advantage.
Marcello had chosen her over me, believing he was saving her.
But in this world, belief meant nothing. Only loyalty mattered.
As I reached the main floor, I saw the staff scurrying away, their heads bowed, avoiding my gaze. They knew better than to speak to me when I was like this. The tension in the house was palpable, the air thick with the aftermath of what had transpired below. And yet, I felt nothing but cold satisfaction.
I stepped into my study and poured myself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light. As I sipped it, the warmth spread through me, but it did little to quell the storm inside. My mind replayed the scene in the basement, not with regret but with a detached sense of accomplishment. Marcello’s punishment had been brutal, yes, but it had been effective. There would be no question of my authority now. No one would dare cross me, not after seeing what I was capable of.
Even Nina, as spunky as she was, would think twice before testing me again. She had seen the lengths I would go to, the depths I would sink to, to protect what was mine. And she was, whether or not she liked it. She would learn to accept it, just as she would learn to accept me.
I finished the whiskey and set the glass down with a sharpclink. My hands were still stained with blood, and I stared at them for a moment, the dark red stark against my skin. It was a reminder of who I was, of what I had become. A man who took what he wanted, who protected what was his, no matter the cost.
I would not apologize for it. I would not regret it. This was the world I lived in, the world I ruled. And in this world, there was no room for weakness, no room for hesitation. Marcello had learned that lesson the hard way. And if anyone else dared to challenge me, they would meet the same fate.
No one disrespected Samuel Caputo. Not without consequences.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Nina
I satup in the bed Samuel had claimed as ours, pulling the blanket tighter around me. The penthouse was silent, save for the distant hum of city noise muffled by the glass. Darkness clung to the windows outside, broken only by the stark glare of security lights in the courtyard below.
A shiver worked its way down my arms. Samuel had assured me that what happened yesterday would never happen again. He’d said it with that unsettling calm, as though the world would bend to his will.
But promises meant nothing in this life—not his, not anyone’s.
