Page 42 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

Andreas’s laughter rocked off the walls. I scrunched my eyes, wishing for him to disappear instead of facing the abuser alone once again and pulling myself into my never-ending nightmare. “I’m not stupid, love.” He gripped my chin so hard a whimper of pain slipped past my lips as he tilted my head so our stares met. “Clare had a very hard second delivery. Did you know that? His mother insisted on a vasectomy. I bet he forgot to mention that.” I froze, my heart beating so loudly it almost wiped away the sound of his cruel voice that left me no illusions regarding my pregnancy. “It’s my baby. And Howard will never accept it.” Again, hate laced his tone as if Howard and he have a personal vendetta going on; however, I was too deep in my despair to examine it further. “You won’t harm my baby. I have too many plans for it.”

“I hate you,” I whispered and palmed my stomach. “I hate this baby too.” My hand fisted as I hit myself hard, barely noticing the pain while holding my head high. “You might stop me from abortion, but you can’t stop me from doing anything else.”

A smile curved his mouth, and he exhaled heavily. “You’re so naïve; no wonder Howard fooled you.” He let go of me, and I swayed to the side as he took out a manila envelope from his coat. “Check this information and then go home, Flora.” He pointed at my stomach, “Be a good girl and protect my baby well until I take it away.”

“I don’t want this baby!” I screamed, not caring who could hear us, because my entire life was crumbling under my feet.

Andreas shrugged, twisting the knob, and looked at me over his shoulder. “Don’t. All you have to do is deliver it safely, and you’ll be free.” I opened my mouth to protest some more, but he gave me no chance, disappearing as swiftly as he showed up.

But he left me the envelope, and I studied it well.

Before grabbing my clothes and running away from the clinic to the surprised stares of nurses and my maid.

Andreas won this round too, because the information he presented me with gave me no other option besides following his orders. He might kill my sister otherwise.

They say be careful what you wish for, and I finally fully understand this.

Once upon a time, I wished for a great love, just like in the fairy tales and poems.

I forgot though that every legendary love story ends tragically and has the whole world against you.

And this baby inside me?

I’ll never accept it and will gladly give it back to Andreas so he can do with it whatever the fuck he wants.

Loving something of his is impossible.

Briseis

Headache.

That’s the first thought entering my mind as I wince, moving my head to the side and groaning in pain. The razor-sharp hurt travels from my toes to the tips of my hair, sending an ache all over my body.

The exhaustion filling every bone makes me think I’ve run a marathon last and got stomped by all those racing ahead of me.

What did I do with Lenora last night? Walk the entire city in high heels and never bothered to order a cab?

Turning on my side, I rest my cheek on the pillow, craving to inhale the deep scent of lavender, only to yelp when it meets a hard surface, scratching my skin, adding to the prickles of pain in my scalp.

Rubbing my throbbing neck, I swallow, only to groan in distress when it feels as if thousands of sharp knives pierce my skin all at once.

Extending my arm, I search for the bottle of water always present on my nightstand, but instead of polished wood, only emptiness greets me.

Frowning, I sit up and rub my eyes, cracking my neck from side to side despite the hurt, hoping to bring my sore muscles alive with the popping sounds accompanying it.

Along with the rattling of heavy chains.

I lean back, gasping in shock when I see tight steel manacles locked on my wrists.

“What’s going on?” I mutter, looking around and quickly getting onto my knees, finding myself in an unrecognizable room burrowed in darkness except for the light bulb flickering above me.

Shaking my head from the dread filling my system, the fear sinking into every cell and polluting my veins, I close my eyes, ordering myself to wake up from this nightmare.

Wouldn’t be the first time my childhood traumas from being kept in the basement transferred themselves into my subconscious, waiting for a weak moment to strike me, then claim my soul so it can wallow in misery and madness.

“Wake up, Briseis. Wake up. It’s not real,” I chant over and over again, inhaling and exhaling loudly, focusing only on the puff of air slipping past my lips before snapping my eyes open with the hope of the walls of my lavender room coming into view. Yet darkness once again says “hi” to me.

Laughter echoes through the space, sinister and mocking in its nature, rubbing over my skin like the cotton of ropes, gliding up and up until they wrap around my neck so tight, leaving only one emotion in their wake.

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