Page 141 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

Florian lands on his ass once again, and that’s when I come from a different angle, catch Octavius’s wrist as he raises it, his knife dripping blood between us. His gaze is glassy with fury. This empty expression will scare everyone who encounters it, and that’s how I understand that rational thinking has left his head.

He jerks in my hold, ready to deliver another hit, when I pull my arm back and punch him hard in the face.

When a person is in the zone under the effect of this rage, talking to them is of no use, because they don't hear you.

They only hear the voice of their abuser whispering in his or her ear about how worthless and weak they are, wiping away any self-control or dignity they have.

And the need to kill becomes so unbearable they do it without realizing what’s going on or who stands in front of them.

Octavius stumbles back, dropping to the floor on his knees while the knife slips from his fingers, landing with a loud clatter.

Florian already slides toward him and places his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it roughly, but it brings no reaction from his friend.

He just stares into space, his chest rising and falling with each breath that’s heavier and heavier, his palms splayed on the marble, leaving bloody prints.

Remi hisses again as he presses his hand on his wound, so I go to him.

Crouching, I push his hand away to examine the wound. Although the tip struck deep and might leave a scar on his shoulder, no major arteries were touched. He should be fine as long as we put stitches in it soon, so it doesn't get infected. Considering the knife was in a now dead body just seconds ago, who knows what Remi might catch from that fucker. “You okay?” He nods, glancing over my shoulder at the guys before shifting his focus to the body. “He’s dead,” I tell him, hoping he won’t erupt into hysterics, since that’s his first time encountering a dead body.

Theirs really, since both of them were so adamant to stop him. I only joined when he finished the job.

The only thought flying in my mind is good riddance, but I decide not to voice it. Besides, they all must be in shock.

Remi smirks, a cold look settling in his gaze, then spits to the side. “Good fucking riddance.” Then he winces again as he studies his wound before he tears off a piece of his shirt and presses it to his shoulder.

What. The. Fuck?

That’s all he has to say?

My brows lift in surprise, and noticing it, he whispers, “You’re not the only one with secrets, amigo.”

Well, who cares? If he is okay, then it means I will only have to deal with…

“What are we gonna do now?” Florian asks calmly, patting Octavius’s back, who now sits on the floor and hugs his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth, still in a trance. He probably doesn't even comprehend what he’s done.

I get up, rolling my shoulders while focusing my attention on Florian, who has a bored expression on his face. The only concern he shows is when his gaze lands on Octavius. Yet the body on the bed earns only a snarl and a muttered, “Rot in hell, fucker.”

Once again.

What. The. Fuck?

Why are my childhood friends who lived in a fairy tale while I burned in hell unfazed by it all?

Why aren’t they panicking, screaming, running around holding their heads, and crying, because this shit is so dark?

I pushed them all away, so my darkness wouldn't smear or accidentally lure them.

Yet it seems darkness has already claimed them, judging by their reactions.

“He turned eighteen last month. If we call the cops, they’ll put him behind bars,” I finally say.

“He can plead self-defense.” Remi gets up, hissing a little when he moves his arm. “We can serve as witnesses.”

Florian shakes his head. “This won’t count as self-defense. He was holding a fucking knife and stabbed him many times. He doesn't have any injuries.” He lifts Octavius’s shirt, and while his back can rival mine in the scars department, there are no fresh wounds on his skin. “Proving self-defense will be almost impossible.”

“He will still get years behind bars. So either way, he’s gonna end up in prison.” I support his point. “Even years of abuse and a psychiatrist claiming he wasn't in his right mind won’t save him.”

“Fuck!” Remi exclaims, stepping closer to Octavius.

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