Page 76 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

Stubborn, hotheaded, arrogant man who only listens to himself and fuck what anyone else thinks.

And unfortunately for the both of us, I’m just like him.

“Suficiente, Papá. I’m not a child who has to report my every move.”

His harsh laughter fills my ear, and I bite on my fist from the irrational rage creating an inferno inside me whenever I talk with him without my mother or sister present.

One of the reasons I avoid it at all costs.

“Oh, you’re not a child anymore all right. A point you made perfectly clear sixteen years ago.” I drop the phone onto the seat beside me, stilling the roar threatening to erupt from my throat, and I can imagine my father does the same on the other end of the line.

Threading my fingers in my hair, I tug on it harshly, needing the physical pain to ground me in the present and not allow me to go back into the past, a place where I always end up whenever I talk with my father.

Or rather don’t know how to talk, so we end up either insulting each other or fighting all over again.

I sometimes wonder if the man from my childhood who was my hero even existed or if I built him and our connection in my head.

Yet whenever I see or hear him, only one memory comes to my mind.

How he looked at me after I came back, his stare searching for the boy he lost a long time ago and not finding pieces of him in me, because I killed him.

I had to in order to survive in hell.

And part of me, the part that still felt something, resented and hated my father for it.

Breathing through my nose, I barely manage to rein in all the conflicting emotions inside me and raise the phone back to my ear, not surprised he’s still on the line.

In all our fights, I’ve always been the one to slam the door, hang up the phone, or ignore his phone calls all together, giving him the cold shoulder I thought he deserved.

And I hated him for it too. Making me seem as if I’m the bad guy who doesn’t let him mend our relationship when he was the one who broke it in the first place.

“Is that all?” I ask, the urge to smoke hitting me so hard I go back inside the house, prowling to the kitchen where I have a pack waiting for me on the counter.

“Family dinner tonight to celebrate your wedding. Be here at six sharp.”

So we can sit in silence while Mom and Jimena go out of their way trying to start conversations and always failing, because we refuse to engage in them? Yeah, no thanks. “I have other plans.”

“Your mother wants to see you. I learned a long time ago to never expect you to do anything I asked.”

And I’ll do anything for my mother or Jimena—my father knows that too. “We’ll be there,” I say, and my father finally hangs up.

My phone drops to the counter with a loud clatter while I slam both of my fists on it, roaring in rage. Thankfully, my room has soundproof walls, because Briseis doesn’t need to see me like this.

Broken, with no control, constantly replaying my past over and over again.

My growing obsession with Briseis has no rational explanations and starts to remind me of the love-at-first-sight bullshit.

Which means I can never allow this emotion to grow even more.

Because if I do?

It’ll destroy the Pandora’s box in my soul hiding all my pain saved through the years, and the eruption of it will be akin to a volcano, burning everyone in its wake.

I might not survive under it.

And I haven’t come this far to leave this world without getting my vengeance first.

Chapter Thirteen

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