Page 135 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

“He should have been here.” He frowns, snatching out his phone and dialing him. A beat passes before he says, “He’s not picking up.”

Remi speaks up. “He went home after school.”

Florian dials again but has the same result; the tension between us rises, as probably a similar thought settles in our minds.

His stepfather has returned home after a long absence, and if he knows about what happened in school… repercussions might be severe.

With Octavius not picking up, we might need to act fast. My hands fist just imagining what he might do to him; the overpowering rage threatens to choke me as the itch to beat the shit out of the man who deemed himself invincible and hurt a child entrusted in his care. “We need to go to his house. Florian, ride with us.” His stepfather cares about image so much he won’t dare hurt him in front of us.

We all quickly get inside while I put a cigarette in my mouth, lighting it up and hoping nothing bad has happened and this stupid assignment will be the last thing I do together with them.

However, looking back on all the things that happened that night, I understand destiny was at work once again in my life.

We were destined to become a strong unit who can withstand anything.

A unique brotherhood of our creation.

And no dark brotherhood exists without blood on its members’ hands.

Briseis

After I finish sketching a horse on the white paper, I drop the pencil on the table and stretch my arms above my head, groaning when every aching muscle in my body reminds me I’ve spent hours in this position.

Although I have no regrets, since my drawing is almost complete. The last rider sits majestically on his black horse, ready to join everyone else in the party of destroying everything in their wake.

Flipping open the folder on my table, I slide out my previous three completed drawings and place them all in the right order.

Picking up my tea mug, I take a large sip and muse if this works for my upcoming presentation. Rebecca assured me I have creative freedom.

Although, after seeing my first sketch, she agreed with me it wouldn't work for the kids and was better to be presented as a separate art form. Besides, according to her, we could always work on the whole four dark riders title hanging over the guy’s head and bring more publicity to it.

Santiago’s mother was determined to give me every chance so I could exist without his help, which was weird in itself.

“We can only stay with someone if we have a choice. Otherwise, everything else is just a force or settling.”

Her words have rung in my ears for the last two months since that fateful night at their house when I gave Santiago a real chance, and nothing has been the same.

The next morning, we had a quiet breakfast where Lucian and Santiago stayed silent; it was obvious they couldn’t wait for it to be over. We were invited to stay longer, but Santiago refused, claiming I needed space to work on my art, and since I promised to be on his side always, I just nodded. While he still avoided his father like the plague, despite all our talks about how his parents were victims just like him, he wouldn't listen, so I stopped trying.

Santiago took it upon himself to show me Chicago, and we explored the city together, going to museums, restaurants, or just walking around in the park under the sky lit by thousands of stars. While home… we had sex on every available surface, and my cheeks heat up just from memories.

Although his friends didn't exactly welcome me with their arms open, they weren't hostile either, and we met them sometimes in the club or other places, which allowed me time to study them for my sketches. That’s how I discovered Florian was really hilarious, while Octavius could get obsessed over the smallest thing and do so much research on it one might think he was insane. I’ve barely seen anything of Remi who mostly travels here and there lately, and even when he joins us, he stays quiet.

All in all, it would have probably been all okay, and dare I say… the happiest I’ve ever been, if only my husband didn't sometimes go into the night and not come home for hours, or traveling places and never telling me anything. But when he came home, his whole entire demeanor reeked of dangerous energy that took me back to his dungeon, and I knew he’d killed someone.

Someone bad, but still, he’d killed a person and touched me afterward with a calculated expression, almost staring into my soul, as if he wanted to catch any disgust appearing on my face, or testing my boundaries.

And while disgust wasn’t present, the sadness in my heart grew as I understood he’d never truly change. He warned me, but women always try to believe in the greater good, right? That somehow in the relationship, a man will change for the better under different circumstances.

No! Men show us who they are from day one, and we should either grab him as he is or dump him.

I glance back on my sketches that might be my ticket to a glorious life.

When I finally have a choice, will my choice be different? Will I choose to walk away rather than stay with him?

The initial blackmail he held over my head no longer exists, since Howard forged all the documents about me. He sold the mansion where his family lived, and after the funeral I attended, he moved to a smaller town, never to be heard from again. I tried getting my mother’s diaries to translate them or ask Santiago to read them for me, because he’s fluent in Latin, yet they told me at the bank that they no longer had them.

Howard must have destroyed them, the bastard!

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