Page 56 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

I should do all those things.

Except my fight is not with her, but her brother, right? So how can I be angry at her for not getting involved and possibly putting herself in the line of fire for the sake of some strange girl she just met?

Her words play in my mind as I turn around to look one last time at my reflection in the mirror.

If I were to believe that…

Then maybe Jimena is right, and he didn’t kill my family, which means he’s using my father as… bait for me to go into his trap?

He’s a hunter, and I’m his prey that he plans to catch no matter the cost.

True serial killers don’t let you decide who lives or dies; they do as they wish.

Could this wedding be because… Santiago wants me, and he doesn’t know how to properly ask for a relationship?

It doesn’t excuse what he has done these past hours, but at least it gives it a different spin… one I can…

What?

Accept and build a life with him?

No matter his reasoning, this wedding is wrong in so many ways, but oddly hope slips into my chest, relaxing my lungs, and my heart contracts at these thoughts, the darkish reality changing into something else.

Something curious enough for me, if I don’t have to hate the man for what he does.

Besides, his sister loves and believes him unconditionally despite his dark nature. It must be a sign there is goodness hidden inside him.

Or maybe that’s the loyalty Remi spoke of, and I just didn’t recognize it, because no one ever loved me unconditionally?

Either way, one thing is crystal-clear.

Despite darkness having black colors, it has shades of gray too.

And somehow among the gray, I need to find answers to my question and hope I won’t go insane just like everyone else.

Remi is right.

Loyalty given to the wrong people might be suffocating.

So maybe I need to talk with Santiago before the ceremony, understand what the hell is really going on, and then he’ll put a stop to this.

If the man truly has a heart, he won’t make me marry him.

Santiago

Walking out of the church several feet away, I flip the lighter through my fingers as I put a cigarette in my mouth and light it up, inhaling smoke into my lungs, instant pleasure prickling my skin when the nicotine hitting my tongue gives me a momentary reprieve.

I’m not particularly religious or give a fuck about all the semantics that go with it, but the church has always been an important part of my parents’ life, so certain things were drilled into me from early childhood.

Like not cursing or smoking in church, although by the hefty donations the Cortez family gives this particular one, I should be able to do whatever the fuck I want.

Florian steals the lighter from my hands and lights his own cigarette while Octavius and Remi stand with us, creating a familiar circle buzzing with tension and anticipation.

Exhaling smoke around us, I sweep my gaze over them. “What’s going on?” And then address Florian, “Why aren’t you inside with Howard?” Although they wrapped him tightly with ropes and he barely can breathe in them, I don’t like my victims being unattended.

Our absence always gives them the impression of hope and help coming soon, and I despise that. None of those fuckers deserve even a minute of reassurance.

They should drown in a pool of their despair and agony.

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