Page 62 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

The only appropriate word is captive.

His deep, husky voice sends shivers down my spine, and revulsion runs through me at his touch, the rose thorns digging sharper this time, and I wince in pain, finding no wiggle room in his hold to step back and throw away the stupid bouquet I never wanted in the first place.

“Will you take me as your beloved husband and promise to cherish and love me till the day I die?” A sinister smile widens his mouth while he winks at me. “Or, in other words, till death do us part?” I freeze, my chest rising and falling rapidly while he rubs my cheek. His thumb slides over me gently, evoking fear inside me, reminding me how this hand can kill someone with just one strike.

I twist my face to the side, avoiding his caress, but he tightens his fingers on me, digging them painfully into my skin, and a whimper of distress escapes me. “The choice is yours, querida.” He prolongs the last word, as if tasting it on his tongue when he addresses me.

I wish to slap him hard, so he won’t call me his darling again, then fist the skirts of my dress, and with my high heels clicking soundly on the marble floor, run through the heavy, wooden doors at the end of the church’s hallway to hide far away from here.

“I always keep my word, darling.”

He won’t chase me, granting me the freedom he has promised from the very beginning, and with time, I can forget all the events that have happened in the last week like a bad dream that should have never even involved me.

However, all this musing has no point.

I stay silent, waves of shock rushing through me while I will myself to say the words everyone expects, yet they seem to get stuck in my throat, not wanting to be spoken for the destruction they might cause in my life.

The groom sighs, winking at me. “Querida, I’m starting to get bored. And it’s never a good sign.”

Someone clears their throat, and I shift my focus to the bench on the left where Florian flips the knife between his fingers while my father sits next to him, bound in tight, black ropes, groans in pain, blood seeping from the various wounds on his torso and head.

Those men who think themselves invincible might never lie, but it doesn’t mean they keep their promises, using twisted games to spin the truth in their favor.

They clearly hurt my father after I left the dungeon, probably enjoying his cries of pain, seeking their adrenaline high like junkies to function properly.

That’s the future I’m subjecting myself to. Surviving among men who need to kill in order to live.

Florian puts the sharp tip to Father’s neck and nicks the skin, chuckling quietly, finding amusement in how he bursts into tears, his eyes pleading for mercy he’ll never get from the likes of them.

Father mumbles something through the tape covering his mouth, and I don’t have to read his mind to know what he thinks.

Or rather asks of me.

After everything he put me through… he still expects me to do it.

“Choose, Briseis,” Santiago repeats, boredom lacing his tone as he snaps my head back to him so his hot breath fans my face, his lips inches away from mine. “Either become my wife, or I’ll kill your father.” He waits a bit and adds, “Choose wisely. Don’t bargain with the devil if you’re not ready for the consequences, mi amor.”

Yes, Santiago Cortez has given me a choice.

But no matter the outcome… my soul will be crushed like a porcelain mug hitting the floor.

Turning away from him, I focus my attention on the priest and finally find the strength to utter the words that cut me from inside out, while self-loathing fills my entire being along with hate that burns brighter with each passing second toward the man standing next to me. “I do.”

My life has become a nightmare.

Because a sinner decided to own me.

Chapter Twelve

“To understand a monster, you have to look into his past.”

Santiago

Chicago, Illinois

Santiago, 7 years old

“This is so stupid,” Florian complains, digging his shovel into the soil and stepping on it while Octavius laughs, sitting under the tree and throwing his football in the air.

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