Page 64 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

I put the box into the hole, and then we hastily cover it up as the owls hoot in the night and the music echoes from the open terrace door, indicating my parents’ party is still going in full swing with no one noticing our absence.

And once we’re done, we run to Remi’s room, where we help out Octavius who is gasping in horror at the new wound on his back that’s so deep even pain pills don’t help him. Then we play board games, chatting about the future, where our friendship will be strong as ever.

Finally, once the party is over, I change into my pajamas before bouncing up and down on the bed, enjoying the squeaky sounds the bed makes as the headboard bangs against the wall, and giggle when I spot Mommy leaning on the doorjamb. She’s still wearing her pink dress from the party, but she’s barefoot, so it means everyone left. “Someone is not sleeping.”

I bounce and then land on my knees, quickly grabbing the blanket and putting in up to my nose, muttering, “Busted.” She walks into the room toward the window, sliding it open and allowing the light breeze to slip inside, blowing back her green hair.

She constantly changes it in the different colors of a rainbow. “Why do you color your hair, Mommy?” I ask, suddenly very curious about it, because all the other women around us never have blue or purple hair, and sometimes I see how they look at Mommy.

Not sure how to describe it besides saying it’s not nice.

She comes closer, traps my toe, and pinches it a little to my laughter before sitting on the edge of the bed next to me, propping her back against the headboard. “I’ve colored it for years now. It helps me focus on my art.”

“Can I color my hair too?”

She flicks my dark locks back from my face and cups my cheek, smiling warmly as she hugs me to her side. “Of course. Once you turn fifteen.” She kisses me on the forehead, resting her cheek on the top of my head. “We can even pick a color together.”

“That’s so far away!” I whine, hugging her closer, her familiar scent of lavender and roses filling my lungs and calming me down.

“My son won’t color his hair.” Daddy’s raspy voice echoes in the room, and I look at the door where he stands, his dominant presence scaring everyone around him but us.

He’s wearing a shirt and pants, his jacket long gone, and he walks into the room, lowering himself on my other side, and throws an arm around Mom and me, almost enveloping us in a bear hug where nothing could hurt us.

At least that’s how Mommy describes it.

“Lucian.” Oh no. Mom sounds angry!

“Mi amor, he got your eyes. My son will have my hair.” His tone leaves no room for argument, and I feel Mom’s body vibrating. Frowning, I quickly raise my head to wipe away her tears, only to find her laughing into her palm.

“You’re impossible.” She extends her hand, tapping on his chin, and sighs. “That’s why I love you.”

“I thought it was my charm and money.”

“That too. After all, the starving artist’s got to eat.”

Dad winks at her, catching her fingers and kissing the tips lightly. “The starving artist who owns several galleries,” he adds, and I exhale heavily, used to their confusing relationship where they start bickering only to kiss later.

Is this a marriage thing? Grown-ups are so complicated!

“Will I have a sibling someday?”

“Por qué preguntas?”

“Mr. Reed changed once Estella was born. Octavius is always hurt.” I focus my attention on Daddy. “Will you hurt me too once I have a little sister?”

Mommy gasps, wrapping her hands tighter around me and Daddy, who tips my chin up. “Mi amor.” That’s all he says.

Mommy gives me a few sweet kisses on the head before she gets up, murmuring softly, “Sweet dreams, baby. I’ll see you tomorrow. We’re going to the zoo.” Blowing me one last kiss, she exits the room, closing the room behind her softly.

Daddy pulls me closer to him yet still keeps our eye contact as he replies to my question. “I won’t ever hurt you or your mother. However, if I ever did… your mom would leave me in a heartbeat.”

“Like Florian’s mom did?” She ran away from Mr. Price a long time ago, and he hasn’t been the same ever since.

Anger crosses Daddy’s face. “No. She would take you with her.” Oh right. “You’re the most important person in our lives, hijo.” Dad squeezes my shoulder. “Always remember that.” He kisses me on the forehead, gets up, and tucks me in, making sure the blanket covers me from head to toe. “Sweet dreams, hijo.” He turns on the bedside lamp, the warm blue light filling the room, and he goes to the door, throwing over his shoulder, “Remember, you’re well loved.” With this, he leaves, and with a smile on my face, I fall asleep, content with the knowledge that my parents will always love and protect me.

Only to snap awake in the middle of the night when someone clamps their gloved hand over my mouth, pressing it so hard all my shouts for help transform into barely audible whimpers. The masked man flicks a syringe in his hand before stabbing it into my arm, and sleep slowly claims me again, my resolve and thrashing weakening on the bed until everything goes dark.

With this injection, my life got divided into a before and after hell that was my constant for eight endless years.

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