Page 109 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

Leaving him too much time to think usually leads to some disaster, because, fuck, the man has no reins when it comes to his impulses. “Qué sucede contigo? You called us here. May I remind you I had to leave my wife at home. I’d like to get back to her.” And they all don't need to know just how much the need to see if she’s okay rides me hard, making sure she didn’t end up crying at our house where Jimena has probably already taken her.

And this should be enough of a sign for me to stay away but still keep a watchful eye on her, because Andreas will strike any time, although not in the near future.

Oh, no.

The fucker will wait until enough time has passed for me to get her pregnant.

Remi finally snaps his pools open, such rage flashing in there it probably would have sent another person running, but not me. My brow lifts and he rolls his lips before jumping up, darting toward the door, and opening it wide, before shouting at Octavius. “Mind finishing it fucking later? My plans for tonight don't include admiring your grand work.”

Octavius frowns then shifts his gaze to me, seeking answers I can’t give him, and after a tense silent second, he steps back, removes the gloves, dumps them in the trashcan, and comes to us, sliding his mask down his face. “Since you asked so nicely,” he says, although by his harsh tone, I don't miss how he is minutes away from losing his temper.

“Earlier today, I got an email from an unknown address. I didn't pay much attention to it until I received another and another, the subject line always promising me to find something interesting.” Remi snatches out his phone from his pocket and clicks on some video as we stand around him.

A black-and-white video starts to play, and the minute I understand what it is, the blood in my veins boils while rage travels through me, wave after wave, alerting every hunting instinct within me.

Florian speaks up first as we all watch the nightmare from our past. The night where we collectively committed a crime plays in front of our eyes as if we hadn't already memorized that day in our minds. “Is this—”

“Yes. Someone has footage of us killing the fucker,” Remi says and then flicks to another video. “Or rather how we helped Octavius get away with this.”

Octavius stays absolutely still and silent, his eyes glued to the screen.

“What do you mean?” I ask as he swipes to the right again, and this time, the video has the man running away from Octavius, screaming in fear.

“Every single video focuses on Octavius and what he did.”

“In other words, if the cops get it, he will be charged with murder.”

Remi nods at Florian’s words, and I conclude, “And we will be guilty by association.”

“Motherfucker is good.” Florian pulls at his hair while huffing in exasperation. “And patient. He’s managed to hold on to it for so long.”

Whoever this fucker is, he clearly has some vendetta against the dark four and isn't afraid to threaten us. And how powerful or smart must he be to blackmail men of our caliber? “Have you traced the IP address?”

“Yeah, it leads to another country.”

Florian announces, “We have to find him so we can kill him.”

Ignoring our words, Octavius half turns to Remi. “What does he want in exchange?”

“She.”

“What?” We all exclaim in unison, and Remi’s mouth tips in a half smile.

“It’s a she. She wants to get information about a certain serial killer who roamed Chicago’s streets around fifteen to twenty years ago.”

As far as blackmailing requests go, this one is fucking unusual, to say the least.

And she? A woman actually challenged us?

Florian lights up a cigarette, taking a greedy pull before exhaling the smoke around us. “Let me get this straight. A woman wants to catch some serial killer, so she decided to blackmail us for it?” He laughs, choking on the smoke a little before wiping his mouth. “She has some balls all right.”

“She wants Octavius to tell her the information.” We all look at him as he freezes, his jaw twitching while he squeezes and relaxes his hands; a myriad of emotions change rapidly on his face, and finally indifference settles once again, not letting us see what he’s truly thinking. “She might have blocked her IP address, but based on the serial killer, it was easy to find her.” He swipes right once again, and the picture of a woman comes into view, her mousy hair and plain appearance not ringing a bell in my mind.

Florian snaps his fingers. “I know her. She was at the wedding we attended back in New York. Isla.”

“Yeah.” Remi nods, and finally the name registers in my mind.

“A cop?” And a lousy one at that, because she’s stupid enough to play games with the likes of us.

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