Page 18 of Hunted to the Altar
I turned my focus back to the room, scanning every detail for the fifth time since dinner. My gaze lingered on the small mug she’d abandoned on the coffee table. The handle faced the wrong direction, and the sight of it made my pulse tick faster. I forced myself to stay seated, fingers twitching with the urge to fix it.
“Stop staring at me,” Nina snapped, breaking the silence. Bunny had claws today.
Her voice was sharper than usual, like a blade trying to find purchase. It only made me want her more. I leaned back, keeping my expression neutral as I studied her. “I wasn’t staring.”
“Yes, you were.”
I tilted my head slightly. “If I was, it’s because you’re hard to ignore.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she turned her gaze toward the window, refusing to meet my eyes. “You’re impossible,” she muttered.
I smiled faintly, but the warmth of the moment dissolved as a faint click outside the penthouse door caught my attention. My body tensed instantly, every muscle coiled and ready. My hand moved instinctively to the gun holstered beneath the table.
My little bunny must have noticed the shift in my demeanor because she turned to me, her brows furrowing. “What is it?”
“Stay quiet,” I ordered, my voice low but firm.
She opened her mouth to argue, but the sharpness of my look silenced her. I stood, every sense heightened as I crossed the room in controlled, deliberate strides. The sound came again—so faint most people wouldn’t have caught it, but I wasn’t most people.
Someone was outside.
My grip tightened on the gun as I moved toward the door, my heart pounding in a steady rhythm that drowned out everything else. The thought of anyone breaching my sanctuary filled me with an icy rage. This was my space, my domain. No one had the right to disturb it.
The door burst open before I reached it, and chaos erupted.
There were three of them. Masked, armed, and reckless. They moved with the confidence of people who thought they’d already won. That was their first mistake. Their second mistake was thinking they could take me on in my home.
I didn’t hesitate.
The first man lunged toward me, but I stepped aside easily, slamming the butt of my gun into his temple. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious before he hit the ground. The second attacker raised his weapon, but I was faster, firing a single shot that struck his shoulder. He dropped his gun with a cry of pain, clutching at the wound as blood seeped between his fingers.
The third man hesitated, his gaze flicking between his injured partner and me. That hesitation cost him. I closed the distance between us in two swift strides, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the wall. His mask slipped, revealing wide, panicked eyes.
“Who sent you?” I demanded, my voice cold and unyielding.
He sputtered, his hands clawing at mine as he struggled to breathe. “I… I don’t know,” he choked out, his accent thick and unmistakably Sicilian.
“Wrong answer.”
I tightened my grip, watching as his face turned red, thenpurple. He struggled, wheezing and clawing, until he finally gasped out a single word: “Picone.”
The name hit me like a freight train. The Sicilians. Of course.
I released him just enough for him to suck in a desperate breath. “Why Nina?” I snarled, my voice low and venomous. “What does Picone want with her?”
“Leverage,” he rasped. “Against Caputo… against you.”
Rage surged through me, cold and consuming. I slammed him to the floor, my knee pressing into his shoulder blades as I twisted his arm behind his back. He screamed, the sound sharp and satisfying.
I dragged him toward the coffee table, yanking his head back by the hair as I pulled out my blade. The cold steel glinted under the light as I pressed it against his neck. “Leverage?” I whispered, leaning in close. “You thought using her would work? Do you know what happens to those who touch what’s mine?”
He whimpered, but I wasn’t done. I slid the blade down to his hand, gripping his wrist tightly. With one clean motion, I severed his pinky finger, his howl of pain cutting through the silence. Blood pooled on the pristine floor, and the sight of it filled me with a savage satisfaction.
“Tell Picone this,” I hissed, grabbing his face and forcing him to meet my gaze. “I’ll send him the pieces of every man he sends my way. One by one. Until there’s nothing left of his empire but ashes.”
He sobbed, nodding frantically. I stood, dragging him by the collar toward the door. My gaze flicked to the other two bodies—one lifeless, the other twitching weakly on the floor. “Take the bodies with you,” I ordered, shoving the living attacker toward the carnage. “Let him know what happens when you come for me.”
The man stumbled, his hands trembling as he reached for his fallen comrades. He avoided looking at me as he dragged theirlifeless forms one by one toward the door, leaving a smeared trail of blood in his wake. The metallic scent hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of fear that radiated from him.
