Page 25 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

“You will what, Father?” I ask, lifting my chin and meeting his shocked stare. “What will you do?” The muscle of his jaw tics as I step closer. “What can a coward like you possibly do?”

He pulls his elbow back, ready to deliver another blow to me, but I catch his hand midair, wrapping mine tightly around his wrist and twisting it around to his gasp before I push him back. He crashes on the table, scattering various pens and papers to the floor and under the furniture.

Shock, disbelief, and anger flash on his face, changing one after another rapidly, because he probably doesn’t know on which emotion to focus on to fully unleash it on me.

Seeing him helpless like this makes me grateful for all the self-defense classes I took back in Greece, ever since I decided to come back home.

I was willing to give them all a chance, even my abusive father. My naivety didn’t wipe away my common sense though, and learning to protect myself was the number-one skill needed among the monsters.

“Don’t ever hit me again, Father—” The coldness in my voice is so chilling it has the power to freeze even fire. “—or I’ll break your hand.” An odd thrill rushes through my veins when I see fear crossing his features before he masks it with rage, the emotions feeding some hidden part inside me, which always reared its head whenever I heard or watched stories about people who got tortured for the despicable deeds they’d done in the past.

Father finally finds his voice and shakes his head. “Get out of my house. Do you hear me? Get the fuck out of my house!”

I chuckle, putting a lid on all the good emotions I’ve ever felt toward my family, because none of them deserve it, and clack my tongue. “No, Father. We have an agreement with Grandmother. She rules this place, in case you forgot.” I swirl my finger in the air and wink at him, welcoming the ice traveling in my veins and covering my heart, creating a protective blanket over it that nothing will be able to break. I’ll personally see to that. “We both know you don’t decide anything around here. Maybe that’s why you have to hit women in order to feel like a man.” I sigh heavily. “A pity really. I wonder how your political campaign is going to go if the press sees this.” I point at my cheek, and his face reddens. He struggles for breath and tugs on his tie, loosening it up. “So be nice, Father. Otherwise, Grandmother dearest might disown you faster than me.” She wouldn’t care that he hit me, but me bringing it to public knowledge?

Oh, she might even have a stroke.

Blackmail is a powerful weapon indeed. I might get what I want faster than I thought at this rate.

Playing fair never helped anyone anyway. When in hell, play with the devil by his rules, right?

Spinning around, I stroll to the door, but his words halt my movements. “You look like her. The spitting image of Flora.” Placing my splayed palm on the door, I half turn to him while he watches me, sadness flicking in his gaze, and something akin to regret?

In all these years, he has never mentioned my mother to me, so I can’t will my legs to move. Instead, I stand waiting for him to elaborate, drinking in any information I can about her.

“She was a breath of fresh air in my life. Beautiful, kind, loving.” My eyes widen at his gentle voice; listening to him almost makes me believe he loved my mother. “Flora… my wild, blooming rose.” All gentleness is gone though when his bitter laughter rocks between us. “You took her from me. Your existence destroyed us.” A beat and then, “And right now, you proved how much of his you really are.” My brows furrow in confusion; who does he mean by his anyway? “Get out of my office, Briseis.”

Ignoring his command, I stand by the door, my feet glued to the floor until I find the courage to ask the question that has haunted me for so many years I’ve lost count.

And maybe with his answer, I’ll finally find my peace. “Did Mom… did Mom…” I take a deep breath and exhale, my hands fisting. “Did my mother love me?”

Seconds, minutes, or maybe hours pass as we stand staring at one another, my heart beating so hard I’m afraid to make a move so I don’t spoil this moment, knowing I probably won’t have an opportunity to ask ever again. I’m not even sure why he shared the little bit he did just now.

“It was in her nature to be loving, no matter the shit done to her. Her capacity to love astonishes me to this day.” His chuckle laced with defeat and self-hatred echoes through the space. “Try as she might though, she could never truly love you.”

Hurt unlike anything I’ve felt before pierces my chest with the sharp arrow of his words and is so swift I forget to breathe for a moment. Thousands of physical blows delivered to me by my family can’t compare to it; this pain almost commands me to fall on my knees and sob at the harsh truth of my life.

Where even my mother never loved or wanted me, probably detesting me for ruining her relationship.

“Thank you for your answer,” I reply as if in a trance, before twisting the knob and stepping outside, numbly walking upstairs, ignoring Lenora who calls my name, as the only sound registering in my ears is the click of my shoes on the polished marble.

Once inside the room, I sit on the edge of the bed, snatch one of the pillows, wrap my arms tight around it, and bury my face in it, screaming so loud my throat will hurt for days.

When you grow up around people who don’t give a shit about your pain, you learn to hide it in your room and unleash it on the lifeless objects that will never tell on you to anyone.

My screams gradually transform into sobs, whimpers, and heavy breathing.

I hold the pillow until it soaks up my last teardrops and I’m ready to face the world again, with my armor intact, anticipating the battle ahead of me.

Achilles used to say it’s better to die in good company than live in the bad one.

Strangely, I think this logic can be applied to love too.

It’s better to love no one than love those who don’t deserve it.

Santiago

Octavius parks the car in front of the club, and I get out before he turns the engine off, the bouncer greeting me with a nod as he removes the red rope blocking my entrance.

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