Page 53 of Hunted to the Altar
“I’m not here to push you over the edge,” I said, my tone softening. “I’m here to keep you from falling.”
She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “You’re delusional.”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But that doesn’t change the reality we’re in. You’re safer here, with me, than you’d ever be out there on your own.”
“And what if I don’t want to be safe?” she challenged. “What if I want to leave? To take my chances out there?”
My jaw tightened, and I took a step closer. Her breath hitched, but she held her ground. “That’s not an option,” I said,my voice low and firm. “You’re staying here. With me. End of discussion.”
“You can’t keep me here forever,” she said, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear.
“Watch me,” I replied, a dark promise in my tone.
The silence that followed was heavy, the tension between us crackling like a live wire. I could see the wheels turning in her head, the defiance warring with the fear. She wanted to fight me, to claw her way out of this cage I’d built around her. But she also knew that resistance was futile. I had her exactly where I wanted her, and we both knew it.
“Fine,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll stay. For now.”
The victory tasted hollow, but I took it. I nodded, stepping back to give her space. “Good. Then we have an understanding.”
She didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the floor. I turned to leave, but her voice stopped me.
“Samuel,” she said, her tone hesitant.
I turned back to her, raising an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Why me?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Why am I the one you’re so determined to protect?”
The question caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to answer. Why her? Why did it matter so much that she stayed, that she was safe? I could’ve chalked it up to practicality, to the fact that she was a pawn in this game of power and betrayal. But that wasn’t the truth.
“Because you’re mine,” I said finally, my voice low and possessive. “And I won’t let you go.”
Her eyes widened, her lips parting as if to argue. But no words came. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken truths and unresolved tension. I turned and left the room, the sound of her sharp inhale following me.
I stood on the balcony, the cool night air biting at my skin. Below, the city sprawled out in a sea of lights and shadows, areminder of the chaos lurking just beyond these walls. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, glancing at the screen.
“It’s done,” the voice on the other end said.
“Good,” I replied, my tone clipped. “Keep the pressure on. I want them to know that coming after her is a death sentence.”
“Understood.”
I ended the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket. My gaze drifted back to the city, but my thoughts were elsewhere. Back in that room with Nina. She was a puzzle I couldn’t quite solve, a storm I couldn’t control. And yet, I couldn’t walk away.
Lately, I’d been noticing little things about her. The way she’d absentmindedly rest a hand on her stomach when she thought no one was looking. The subtle shift in her appetite, how she’d pick at her food as if the thought of eating made her nauseous. The constant weariness clinging to her movements, even on the rare days she smiled like she meant it — even when she tried to pretend she was fine.
I’d seen it before. I’d seen it in women who had carried life within them. And while she hadn’t said anything—hadn’t even acknowledged the possibility herself—I knew.
She was pregnant.
My child was growing inside her.
It had only been a few weeks since the attack, since everything changed between us. Long enough to start noticing the signs. Long enough for hope to sink its claws into me.
The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying. I hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t expected it. But now that it was happening, I couldn’t imagine anything more important.
Nina might hate me.
She might fight me every step of the way.
