Page 133 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

Through it all, I battled my cravings while thinking about Andreas every single day. I hired some expensive hackers who tried to track him but came up blank all the time, yet I continued to pay them to spot him somewhere.

They claimed he probably died, but I refused and still refuse to believe that.

I acquired a few weapons, wanting to learn how to use everything a fucking torturer has to offer, but no one wanted to teach a kid without a name. No way in fuck was I putting the Cortez name on the line.

Until finally I found a contact willing to work with me; he promised to teach me all there was about weapons, torture, and knife work under two conditions. I was never to see his face, as he wore a mask, and never to speak to him, since he stayed mute.

So once a month, we trained together, where he would find some rapist and let me practice on them as they screamed their lungs out. The man’s technique was so unique, so calm and interesting, that I was mesmerized and hated the fact that we could never talk about it.

Thanks to him though, I have everything I need to hunt and face Andreas, but the growing desires in my soul far exceed the teaching sessions. I want to hunt my own victims and build my own dungeon where walls will be permanently soaked with their suffering and blood.

Three knocks snap me out of my thoughts, and I glance to the door where Remi barges in, grinning and opening his arms. “Amigo!” he greets me, and then I notice his ripped black jeans and navy blue shirt sticking to his chest from sweat while his boots have traces of dirt on them.

His dark hair is made into a man bun. He wipes his forehead, which lets me know he was helping his father in the garden, since he still works for us.

Despite him drinking so much he could barely stand sometimes, because he can’t deal with his wife’s death, my parents keep him just so they can keep an eye on Remi, who they might as well have adopted.

They pay all his school expenses, his clothes, let him stay inside the house so he can study in peace without listening to his father’s slurs. It’s paid off though, since Remi has so many scholarship offers he can choose among the best.

They even gave him a car as a gift.

Not that he uses it or spends time partying around.

He either works in the garden or local store, earning himself pocket money. He politely refuses my parents whenever they try to give him money, because that’s Remi.

Fucking great guy who should never mingle with a monster like me, because my darkness will ruin him.

Taint him so much he might lose any chance of achieving all the dreams he has.

That’s why I still ignore his ass and never engage in long conversations despite his and my parents’ efforts.

Truth be told, I don't understand why he hasn’t given up like Florian and Octavius did, who barely spare me glances. They sure as fuck didn't try to preach to me about friendship.

But then I guess they still have each other, while Remi is a loner.

“I’m not your amigo. I don’t remember allowing you to walk in,” I reply coldly. I snatch my phone and cigarettes on my way and push past him to go outside, breathing in the fresh smell around me as I stroll through the garden to the main house, where my car already awaits me.

Today, I plan to finally indulge in my dark cravings, but for this, I need to hunt and change my clothes, which luckily the apartment my parents bought for me in town will come in handy.

“You’re still my friend. Where are you going?” he asks, unfazed by my words and marching next to me, matching me step for step.

“No es asunto tuyo.”

He clacks his tongue. “It’s my business, because—”

Anger sparks inside me, rushing through my veins, and bitterness fills my mouth when I spit out, “Why? Because my father ordered you?” Even though I know it’s a dick move, I can’t help the emotions hitting me and reminding me how Lucian can talk for hours with my friend and even laugh at whatever he says, but he becomes dead serious in my company.

And whenever he addresses me, it always ends up in an argument or a fight anyway, because neither of us know how to control ourselves.

His brows furrow. “No, he didn't say anything. I just want to know to make sure you don't plan to do anything stupid like the last time.” By last time, he means when I burned my car just to see my father all riled up, expecting him to finally blow up his stoic expression, but he once again took it all silently and just bought me another one.

Will I ever fucking receive an ounce of emotion from him besides anger, or am I now too dirty to deserve it in his eyes?

“Wait.” I’m about to step on the asphalt when Remi grabs me by the elbow and spins me around to face him, rage flashing on his face. “Is this why we are not friends anymore? You’re fucking jealous?”

Pulling my arm back, I push at his chest. “Don’t touch me, and fuck you. Who are you to question me anyway? I don’t want to be your friend. Stop fucking trying. When will you finally get it? You are nothing but a gardener’s son in this house. Know your place.” The words spill from my mouth before I can stop them, pressing the one button that’s always haunted Remi in school, as everyone loved to remind me he was no one important, and the only reason they stopped bothering him was because we kicked their asses.

God, I’m really a fucking asshole.

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