Chapter 22
Chapter 22
"How do you think Alastor is going to do, Meroveo?" Thalia asked, pacing the room with binoculars and looking out, eagerly waiting for the final race to begin.
The sky was clear and bright, the perfect weather for the occasion. I sat beside Meroveo in the private box with a view of the historic racetrack, surrounded by vibrant green grass and seasonal flowers.
Hector, Thalia, and Roman joined us in a private suite.
It was the first day of Las Carreras del Rey , The King's Races.
A competitive showcase of thoroughbreds that included the best trainers and jockeys from all around the world. Thousands of enthusiastic spectators made up the electric crowds, excited to see a new champion crowned.
Meroveo sat with a cigar lit in his mouth, watching the proceedings closely. His prized stallion, Alastor, was competing. Meroveo personally trained him since he was a colt. Alastor was a majestic, rare breed with intelligent eyes and a black coat that looked blue in the sun.
"Training a horse requires patience and respect," Meroveo said, explaining the rules and the legacy of the sport. If Alastor won, it would be the third year winning, setting a new record.
"What's the prize?" I asked over the announcer's loud voice, speaking rapidly and blaring statistics.
"Tradition, prestige, legacy, and a 13 million dollar purse in prize money." I was taken aback by the staggering amount. Although I knew the horse racing business was profitable, I never understood its scale.
"What are you going to do with it if you win?" I questioned.
"What would you do with it if you won?" he asked me curiously, deflecting, his gaze searching my face.
"I would do something good with it. There's already so much bad in the world, " I answered truthfully, despite how naive I probably sounded to a dark soul like his.
Meroveo rested his hand at the top of my thigh and lifted the corner of his mouth but said nothing, returning his attention to the track.
"I have to win," Thalia said, determined, her focus on the horses.
"Gambling again." Roman tsked, chastising, sitting comfortably in a chair across from Hector, inhaling from a cigar that was more than tobacco.
"As if you can talk," Thalia countered with a dismissive flip of her wrist, the two of them bickered like brother and sister.
"What can I say?" Roman laughed. "I can never refuse las tres viejas."
"You're reckless and lack discipline," Hector said nonchalantly, breaking away from his conversation with Meroveo.
"And you need to get laid." Roman winked with a mocking grin, unfazed by his remark.
It was during their exchange then that I noticed the tattoo on his hand —an image of a black ram with golden eyes and horizontal red slits. It was like the tarot card described in the article Samara found about the murdered journalist.
He noticed my reaction to the design.
"Whatever they've said about me is true," Roman joked with a charming, sinister smile, his eyes glinting with a secret.
"Was it painful?" I asked, glancing at his hand, ignoring the silent confirmation.
"I like pain," he grinned. It's my specialty." Flashing his gold tooth, he revealed a darkness in his smile.
"But I do have my pleasures, unlike my grim brother. I like fast cars and beautiful women," he joked, moving away from the subject easily.
"You are an addict who lacks self-control," Hector admonished again.
"And you lack puss -"
"Roman, there are ladies present," Meroveo interrupted.
"Of course, forgive me, Dove," Roman smiled, raising a glass.
"I'm standing here too," Thalia said, glaring at Roman.
"Eh, that's debatable. "Roman teased with a grin. He enjoyed making her mad.
"They're about to start," Thalia exclaimed, cutting off Roman. Her focus shifted along with the energy of the crowds to the horses beginning to line up.
The sound of the shot blasted in the air, and the vibrations of the seats shook the room, accompanied by thunderous cheers and applause from the crowds.
"Think about what you want to do with the prize," Meroveo said, gently kissing my hand as the roars increased and Alastor took off in the lead.