Page 39 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

Despicable, despicable human beings.

My hold on the vase tightens, and I step closer to them, since they can’t see me from this corner. I’m hidden by the wide cupboard when Addison says frantically, “There is one more girl here. Briseis. She’s upstairs.” A beat passes before she adds, “She’s the one you’re looking for. Please, let us go.” Disappointment rushes through my veins at her throwing me to the wolves to save her own ass, but I block away the rage along with the pain her admission inspires inside me.

None of my emotions have a place here. While they all lost their humanity along the way, I still have mine intact.

Which means I have to save my sisters, even if they don’t deserve it.

The men pause, exchanging looks, and one of them rubs his chin. “Briseis. Right. He did say she’ll have some weird name, didn’t he?”

Ava nods eagerly. “And she has two different eyes.” I step closer to them, lifting the vase, ready to throw it at one of them, when Addison points toward me.

“She’s right there.”

Shaking my head in disbelief at her stupidity, I have to wonder, does she think by shifting their attention to me she’ll be safe?

They swiftly half turn to face me, and one of them mutters, “Yeah, she’s his daughter.” I don’t dwell on their words, their odd meaning confusing me even more, and throw the vase at one of them when he darts toward me. I spin around to run back to the terrace, hoping to find an escape in the garden till the police arrive.

Two gunshots mixed with screams fill the space, making me close my eyes, weeping for my siblings internally as I run with all my might to the terrace and open the double doors. I get out, and my heart, despite everything, hurts for my sisters who got just killed.

You might hate people who hurt you the most in your life, never wanting anything to do with them, yet when their ends come, you grieve all the same.

I’m almost inside the garden when a hand catches me by the hair, a cry of pain slipping past my lips, as he seethes, “You fucking bitch.” He twists me around and grabs my chin painfully, digging his fingers into my skin and leaving bruises for sure. “You’re my two million dollars.” He smiles, showcasing his two missing teeth, and I kick him hard in the gut before hitting him in the cheek with my fist. He stumbles back, groaning and bending in two.

Not waiting for the second one running toward us to catch up with me, I race to the gates instead, my only chance of staying alive, because maybe they’ll decide I’m too big a hassle and leave instead of taking their chances of being caught.

The wind slaps my cheeks as I move in a blur, my hair blown back as my feet slap against the concrete, yet the pain doesn’t register in my brain.

My heavy breathing is the only sound ringing in my ears, and I concentrate on that, focusing only on my survival, deriving strength from it.

I’m halfway to my destination when a rope catches me, wrapping around my neck and pulling me back, and my resistance only makes me drop on my ass, the pain traveling through my entire body as Terry catches up with me.

He tightens his hold on the rope when he walks around me. The air slowly leaves my lungs and my vision blurs. “Like to lead men on a chase, don’t you?” He steps closer, his shoes stepping on my foot, and I cry out, although it’s nothing but a weak rasp with the rope cutting off my air supply. “Well, how about a little punishment before you go to daddy dearest?” He raises his fist, ready to hit me hard, and I tense, anticipating the blow, but surprised when the rope around me loosens, and he stumbles back.

Coughing heavily and gulping for breath, I scoot back and blink a few times to clear my vision only to gasp in surprise when I see Santiago stabbing him with a blade glistening in the moonlight. Then he takes it out, letting the blood drip on the concrete before he grabs Terry’s hands and breaks them, the crunching of bone ringing in my ears.

Along with his cry of pain. Although all I want to do is go closer and kick Terry, adding to his suffering.

Santiago maneuvers Terry to kneel in front of me, and he takes out the belt from his pants, the whooshing sound sending an odd excitement through me, which quickly turns into horror when he circles Terry’s neck with it. “Do you see this woman?” he asks him, tightening his hold. “She belongs to me. And no one hurts what belongs to me.” With this, he cuts off his oxygen completely, and the man thrashes in his hold, trying to get away, but all his attempts are useless.

His face reddens, his eyes bulging, and shortly his body goes limp.

Santiago drops him and takes a step toward me while I scoot back once again, a different kind of fear enveloping me while I’m stuck on the darkness and cold expression of his eyes with him so easily killing a person. “Stay away from me.” I might not understand a lot of things right now from panic and the adrenaline pumping through my system; however, him so easily doing this is not normal. “Stay away from me,” I snap again when he doesn’t listen but kneels in front of me and palms my head with the same hands that just choked someone to death. “Stay—” I start, then frown when his fingers press so hard on the side of my neck my mind almost shuts down, and even though I want to run away or say something more, my eyes slowly close and the oblivion calling my name claims me.

Leaving me at the mercy of a monster and chaos.

Santiago

Briseis loses consciousness, her lids drooping, and she relaxes in my arms where I catch her easily, picking her up. Spinning around, I stroll to the mansion where the rest of the horsemen are. They scattered all over the first floor, each one of them studying the situation we walked into.

While I planned to kidnap Briseis tonight and kill Howard in front of her, because the earth really doesn’t need a useless piece of shit like him gracing it, I didn’t anticipate my evening turning into a massacre with her whole family slaughtered.

Or should I say selfish fuckers who never gave a shit about her anyway?

Somehow, try as I might—and let’s be honest, I don’t even try—I feel nothing at their deaths.

Coming back to the terrace, I see Howard lying on the floor with his arms and legs spread wide, wearing a bathrobe.

Octavius places the tip of his shoe on Howard’s chin, moving his head back and forth as he examines the wound on his neck. “They used fishing line.” He taps on his nose and jaw. “First though, they beat the shit out of him. Unbelievable that he’s still breathing.” He raises his gaze to me, cocking his head to the side. “Do you think it was an order?”

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