Page 102 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

Ah, what a fun job it would have been killing all these fuckers, their agonizing cries serving as a balm on all the wounds marking my skin.

Would I feel clean again then? Whole? Innocent?

Or are all these things forever stolen from me?

“Sit on the floor.” We choose a spot closer to the other boy and sit down, and then pointing the gun at us, he addresses Callum. “And you, wrap those chains around them.”

All of us follow the command, and shortly we are in the same position.

I can physically feel the stare of the kid on us, probably finding our similarities, and maybe he wonders why we are wearing only pants.

Philip didn’t believe in shirts. But I decide not to explain that, because the kid doesn’t look stable, so who knows what he’ll do next.

Life has taught me to study a person first before proclaiming them an enemy or an ally.

“Play nice with each other.” He laughs, the sound spiking rage in me, and I wonder what he would look like with his head blown off.

Too bad killing just one has no point, because we are always outnumbered and will lose.

Losing is not an option though; I will fucking survive this.

“You two will have a job to do soon. Callum, you are free till tomorrow.” With this, he walks back and leaves us alone while silence settles over the place.

“Hi,” Callum rasps and wraps his hand around his neck, and only then do I notice the imprint of a belt on it. “My name is Callum.”

Not sure why he feels the need to introduce himself, considering the guy just did that, but Artem goes along with it. Besides, who knows how long the kid has been here? Maybe he hasn’t ever spoken to another kid.

Which means he might be an ally who will be on our side should the opportunity arise for an escape.

“Artem.”

Callum’s hazel eyes travel behind Artem, and he focuses his stare on me.

“Santiago.” My mouth curves in a grin, and Callum blinks in shock, but he will get used to it.

Artem did, although sometimes he still looks at me warily, not that I blame him.

Silence falls again after that, but it’s an awkward one, since the kid continues to stare, so Artem asks, “How long have you been here?”

“Two years.”

Fuck, all alone? “Do they come after you every day?” Artem prefers to know schedules in advance, as if preparing ahead helps him deal with it.

“Mostly, yes.”

“Okay,” he murmurs and closes his eyes, chanting a Russian poem to himself. It always calms him down… so, whatever.

“Don’t worry, Callum. We’re here now to share the burden,” I pitch in, resting my hand on my knee in a careless manner.

His face falls, but he quickly schools it, an indifferent expression settling on his features, and secretly I admire it.

Maybe he hoped for some words of reassurance, like someone will come and save us. But then why waste time on useless words when instead he can build resolve and one day become an ally?

“There is no escape from here,” Callum says, and I smirk, nodding.

“And that’s why we don’t fight. Destiny.”

With Callum, our chances increase, and maybe destiny will finally give us a chance.

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