Page 50 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

Remi kicks open the door, blocking the thoughts of Santiago away for the time being, and we end up in a spacious… garage? Without lights, I don’t see much besides the silhouette in the distance, so probably one of their cars awaits ready to drive off wherever.

My jaw though hits the floor when Remi claps his hands and the place lights up, showcasing two helicopters taking up the majority of the otherwise empty wide space. One of them stands in the middle of a small circle painted on the floor, its polished black paint glistening in the light. It has five seats available, two in front and three in the back, and uneasiness rushes through me at the prospect of flying in this thing.

While a lot of people dream of jumping on one of those for sightseeing purposes, the idea always scared the crap out of me.

Remi lifts my jaw up with the tip of his finger, making me frown, and he laughs, his dark eyes filled with amusement. “Hop in. We don’t want to be late.” He walks around the helicopter, and I blink several times when he occupies the front seat, only now realizing he plans to operate the damn thing!

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I get into the cockpit, closing the door with a loud thud.

Remi gives me headphones, and I put them on while he does the same before clicking on a remote.

“Oh God,” I mutter when we start to move up on the platform, and I grab the door handle, pressing myself closer to Remi’s side. “What’s going on? Are we on the roof?”

“Underground. The platform will take us up to where we can fly easily.” Thousands of thoughts rush through my mind at this information, the most prominent of them being the lengths Santiago went to in order to create his dungeon.

He hid it well, and I can’t even comprehend the amount of work it took to build something like this underground. Doesn’t he need permission from the state? How in the hell did he cover up his dark deeds all this time; did no one bother to check his arena with all those accusations floating around over the years?

I close my eyes, the air sticking in my lungs when we stop only for Remi to flick on several buttons, and the machine starts buzzing, the loud sound of the turbine with its main and tail rotors starting, blocking away anything else. I feel us going slowly up, the helicopter swaying gently from side to side, and I scrunch my eyes harder, my pulse speeding up. The machine starts to move forward and then goes higher and higher again. Tickling sensations constantly run all over me, and I snap my orbs wide, gluing my nose to the window to spot the circle opening shut behind us and the endless amount of green land surrounding it, which seems to have no borders.

He flies us smoothly, the city lights in the distance indicating to me we aren’t that far from Chicago. “Where are we going?” Hopefully, their prisoners are allowed to ask questions, because going in blind on disasters would be the icing on the cake.

“To get you ready for the wedding,” he replies, and I tense when a harsh wind shakes us in the air and wrap my arms around myself. Remi props his back against the seat, both hands holding the control between his legs. “I’ve been doing this for ten years, Briseis. Don’t worry,” he reassures me, his voice even and calm as if I should trust his word, the serial killer who participated in the killing of my family and laughed when his friend tortured me.

“I’ll believe you when we land,” I shout, gazing ahead, succumbing to my desire despite my earlier resolve to drink in the beauty of the world around me. Stars fill the night sky, the moon shining brightly, casting a magical spell on the magnificent city ahead of us full of life, judging by how lit up it is and all the moving cars. “It’s beautiful.”

“I remember my first time flying the thing. Nothing compares to the power swirling around you with the helicopter fully in your control, watching the ground from above, and realizing our possibilities are endless if we only let ourselves dream.”

I gape at him in shock at the description he gives of flying, not expecting a serial killer to be this poetic. I clamp my lips and roll them together while focusing back on the environment, because talking to Remi confuses me.

When someone dangerous acts this nice, there must be a trick hidden somewhere; maybe they need me relaxed enough before striking again.

We reach Chicago in a few minutes, drifting over the city where I have the opportunity to look at the sidewalks with people running around, some even dancing on the streets. And so much amazing architecture is spread all over. Some of the buildings were created back in the nineteenth century.

When we pass by Millennium Park, I see people snapping pictures near the Cloud Gate, and longing scorches through me, because I never got the opportunity to do that, and who knows if I’ll have such a chance in the future. My luck hasn’t been that great the last couple of days.

A true torture really, to live in a city with one-of-a-kind art pieces available all over, only to be denied appreciating the amazing talent they represent.

Street food trucks have people lining up to them, forming small crowds on the streets, and vehicles move flawlessly on the road, slightly busier than usual.

All in all, Chicago might just be my one true love, because nothing compares to my hometown.

“I love the city too. I would never want to live anywhere else,” Remi informs me before taking a swift turn and then clicking a few buttons as we speed up, heading to the tall skyscraper with the Cortez name on it.

“Sometimes, we don’t have a choice,” I tell Remi, popping my fingers and enjoying the cracking despite the slight discomfort. With all the sightseeing he arranged for me, I almost forgot the real reason for it all and how I’m about to participate in a wedding that might as well be my funeral.

Remi easily lands the helicopter on the roof of the building, before turning it off, and a woman runs toward us, holding her hair with her hand as she plasters a fake smile on her mouth. “Ms. Dawson! We’ve been waiting for you.” I remove my headphones, and I look at Remi for an explanation.

He hangs his headphones back in place, motioning to the woman. “Aly has everything ready for you. Just follow her.” Once again rolling my lips together so a frustrated scream won’t slip from it, because being ordered around like a soulless doll can hardly be enjoyable for anyone, I place my foot on the step, ready to hop down, when his voice freezes my movements.

“We always have a choice. Your choices just always include being a victim.” Glancing over my shoulder at him, I open my mouth to protest, because fuck him and his fucked-up way of thinking, but his splayed palm stops me. “We cannot change our childhood. But we can stop it from dictating our future.”

The audacity of this guy! “So I should have let him kill my father and go on my merry way?” Aly subtly moves several steps away, probably to give us a sense of privacy during our conversation. “Or should I have died by his hand?”

An odd expression flickers in his dark eyes when he answers. “Loyalty is a great character strength. However, given to the wrong people, it might be suffocating or stupid.” My silence must indicate to him my complete confusion on some warped point in his head, so he elaborates. “They say blood is thicker than water, and people blindly believe in this notion. Family hurts, destroys, and feast on the flesh of their young, and still the young go back to face more abuse. It’s drilled into them from their early life that they owe this loyalty, so they sacrifice everything for the great concept, and it’s rarely a reality.” He leans closer to me. “The Cortez family love and protect their own, and they don’t ask for sacrifices. The same goes for the dark four. When the times comes… pick your alliances and loyalties well, Briseis.”

“Or what?” I understand Remi wants to communicate something to me, yet I’m failing to see how any of this is relevant to the situation at hand.

His friend blackmailed me into marriage. Why does my loyalty even matter?

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