Page 142 of Santiago's Conquest (Four Dark Horsemen 1)

He still rocks on the spot, chanting, “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up,” over and over again, his bare feet tapping the floor and only smearing more blood on his skin.

“If we don't call the cops right away, our asses will be on the line too.” I decide to address the elephant in the room. “The longer we stall, the guiltier we become.”

Florian pulls at his hair, standing up too and pacing back and forth. “They have security cameras. That might be good evidence.”

“And how do you plan to get them? Doesn’t Antonio oversee this shit? I hardly doubt—”

A harsh clattering sound echoes in the space, interrupting Remi as glass shatters into tiny little pieces around us, and all our heads swing to the doorjamb where the man in question stands, a tray lying by his feet.

Fucking great, another witness who is about to put an end to our argument.

My ass ending up in jail wasn't in any of my plans after coming back home.

We stare at one another for several moments, Antonio’s gaze darting between us all while finally settling on Octavius and then traveling up to focus on the dead body.

He gasps, covering his mouth, and trembles slightly.

Several emotions flash, wave after wave, on his face before he finally straightens up, adjusts his butler jacket, and addresses Remi. “Estella went to visit her friend with the driver, and the maids have the day off today.” His quiet voice is barely audible. “The camera footage is downstairs in the basement.” He looks between us. “What should I do?”

This evening is turning beyond bizarre if even the butler is ready to cover up a murder.

A chuckle slips past my lips. Florian pushes me in the shoulder, and all the amusement is instantly gone. “What’s so funny, Santiago? Octavius might end up in jail!” He shouts the last part, raising his arm, but I block it and punch him in the gut instead, so he stumbles back.

He might know a thing or two about murder, but he clearly doesn’t have strong enough stamina.

“Then he shouldn’t have killed his stepfather for everyone to see,” I reply, indifference lacing my tone, because emotions don't help.

They never help, only complicate things.

“Fuck you!” Florian spits, lunging for me again.

But Remi stands between us, shouting, “Shut up, both of you! Shut up! Fighting right now won’t help! We need to think!”

Octavius whimpers, palming his head, and his rocking becomes more violent, snapping our attention to him. I do my best to rein in the anger inside me.

Maybe because in a way I understand his pain.

Or the boy who is still inside me remembers that, once upon a time, these three guys were my best friends, and I would have done anything for them.

Clearing my throat, I order Antonio, “Delete all the footage from the camera right now.” He nods, ready to bolt, but my words stop him. “If you ever speak to anyone about what happened tonight, you will be guilty too. Keep that in mind.” Never in a million years would I have imagined threatening the guy who was practically a grandpa to us all, but fear has such a strong power I have no choice.

He nods again and darts away while I face the rest of the guys. “Any ideas how to handle it? Think fast. At this point, we will all be guilty of the crime. Our lawyers won’t be able to help us.”

“We need to hide the body,” Florian says, rubbing his face and then opening up his suit.

Remi fists his hands before hitting his hips. “There is blood everywhere, his DNA and fingerprints. We can’t just hide it. They will search for it; he’s one of the richest guys in the country. Besides, how do you plan to get rid of it anyway?”

“I don’t know, Remi. What am I? A serial killer on the fucking hunt?” Florian spits, and I snap my fingers when an idea appears in my mind.

“Serial killer. We have one in the country right now, right?”

“Right. They mentioned it on the news. What does he—” Remi’s eyes widen. “He might be the cover we need.”

Florian opens his mouth to comment, when Octavius whispers, “Florian.” He rushes to him and lands on his knees, mindful of not stepping on the blood, and places his hands on his shoulders. “What have I done, Florian?” His voice finally rings with awareness, and he looks over his shoulder at us. “What have I done?” A horrified expression crosses his face, and he shakes his head. “I killed him. Fuck, I killed him.” Tears form in his eyes. “Estella. She will be all alone,” he whispers the last part.

“No, we have a plan.”

“No!” he shouts, slamming his fist into his chest. “My fault. I did the crime. Get out. Get out, all of you, and I’ll call the cops. Turn myself in. Just promise to take care of Estella,” he tells Florian and adds, “Please.”

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