Chapter 7
“If you come to our carnal den designed for gore and sin, don’t ever look back.
For vices offers many things…
Freedom is not one of them.”
Florian
From Jimena’s emails to Florian…
Hi Florian!
Do you want to know a secret?
You’ve been gone all summer…and my brother right along with you, which made my parents sad and cast the Cortez castle into mourning.
My parents are incapable of being happy unless Santiago is around, and I know I shouldn’t resent them for it…but I do.
Why am I never enough for them?
Why can’t my presence alone make Mom happy and Dad at peace?
My parents exist for the rare occasions they can interact with their son, and without him, their lives have no meaning.
A bad man kidnapped Santiago all these years ago and did horrible things to him, so that’s why he lashes out and acts the way he acts. He has scars, and my heart breaks when I see them. Just imagining someone hurting him fills me with pain so strong it’s hard to breathe.
My brother, who is the best of the best, who never looks at me with anything but love…my brother who finds the strength to push through his demons and spend time with me, even if I bore him to death talking about my harp.
I could not wish for a better brother than him, so how can I not hate myself for being jealous of him?
Or, rather, of what he represents in our parents marriage.
Everyone loves to tell us stories about Pápá and Mama meeting for the first time and how Pápá was smitten right away, so Santiago was born less than a year later.
My brother is a manifestation of their obsessive love for each other during the happiest moments of their lives.
However, every time I look in the mirror, I flinch because I can’t hide from the truth…
I’m the manifestation of my parents’ sorrow, born during the hardest time of their lives when they lost their beloved child and couldn’t handle their grief.
Mama wouldn’t even leave our house during the eight years Santiago was gone because she wanted to be home when he came back. This is how much she believed in him.
Or couldn’t fathom the notion of losing him.
You and Remi were the ones to take me to my first trip to the park. First day in preschool.
They missed it all.
And the knowledge slowly kills me inside, poisoning my blood, because it’s my darkest secret that can’t even be shared during therapy.
Whenever something tragic like the kidnapping of a child happens in the world, they talk about the parents and the child in question. How horrible, hard, and unbearable it all must be to them.
About their trauma and pain.
But what about us siblings?
What about us children left behind to watch our parents wither away and show you that your existence alone is not enough for them to keep going?
What about us?
It might sound selfish coming from me, but it fills me with shame and causes a tremor to rush down my spine. It envelops me in coldness and devastation because I can’t bottle all these emotions inside and try to understand them.
After all, I’m not the one who was hurt, so I have no right to make all this about me when Santiago is the victim. He deserves all the love and attention.
But to be the invisible child in your family…a glass child.
It’s a burden I do not wish on anyone.
Because when you’re invisible…you wonder if there is meaning to your life at all.
Sometimes the voices in my head become too loud, too tempting, urging me to do something I might regret, but the idea of them all finally seeing me…
It does something to my heart, Florian.
For once, I want to be chosen.
For once, I want them to look behind the facade.
For once…I want their love.
I will never get it, though.
Because I’m not Santiago, and never will be.
From Florian’s email to Jimena…
Whenever the voices in your head become loud, princess, shut them up with mine.
Because I see you.
You’re smart, talented, kind, and beautiful, and someday, you’ll achieve earth-shattering things as your soul constantly searches for a new adventure.
But also remember this.
Your family loves you with everything in them, even if they fail to show it to you in a way that matters to you.
I’m on your side, though.
If it ever becomes too much, you come to me, princess.
I’ll always be here, and I will never choose Santiago over you.
Florian
I get out of my car in front of our private club and salute one of the bouncers, who nods at me as he removes the red rope blocking the entrance. “Mr. Price. Welcome back.”
“Thanks.” I glance at the crowd gathering outside—desperate people fighting for a chance to get inside in hopes of a better life—and chuckle. “Good luck.” Sometimes they get rowdy and impatient, forcing our bouncers to show off their boxing skills.
After all, we hire the best of the best, and no one gets into our club without being vetted.
I walk down the narrow corridor to the reception desk, where Samantha, our hostess, jumps up from her place and quickly grabs her tablet, rushing to me. “Florian, we have a problem.” She taps on the display, practically shoving the tablet in my face. “I need you to look into this before it becomes a scandal.” Her voice stays even while a blank expression takes over her flawless features, reminding me again that she’s cold and focused, just like she promised us when we hired her.
God knows this place wouldn’t run as smoothly without her, and we show our gratitude with more than generous bonus checks.
Loyalty is an admirable character trait, but you won’t have it for long unless you attach money to it.
“Send it to my email. I’ll check it out once we’re done,” I inform her, and by the heavy footsteps trailing me, I know the rest of the dark four followed me after I finished acting like the perfect godson back in the Cortez mansion and got the fucking message on my phone that couldn’t wait any longer.
I haven’t said a single word to my friends, but then again I didn’t have to.
My actions were enough to alert them about the upcoming danger because Prices don’t leave parties early. We fucking enjoy them till the last minute, basking in all the attention and sizzling energy around us.
Although I haven’t indulged in that particular favorite activity of mine in years due to a certain dark-haired beauty who did an excellent job of avoiding me tonight.
My hands fist as possessiveness and fury wash over me, filling every cell in my body, and I put the tablet away. “Make sure no one interrupts us, Sam.”
“Of course.”
I push at the massive double doors designed specifically by me and made out of the finest wood to keep the luxurious vibe consistent, enjoying how they practically vibrate under my palms from the music. The minute they open, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes hit me, as fast, loud music mixing with the click of shoes on the parquet grates on my ears.
Once a month, we have a special night designed for gore and sin, which means everyone wears a mask, hiding their faces and keeping their identities a mystery.
A night full of freedom, although some give themselves away by wearing expensive limited edition designer clothes to attract all the attention they need.
We know some of these dresses include knockoffs just to catch someone rich in their net, not that we give a fuck. We intentionally allow the gold diggers and social climbers inside to provide a variety to our rich customers while they get the opportunity to win their lucky ticket.
We call it a win-win situation.
As long as they follow the rules and no one forces anyone into anything. Otherwise, they are out.
We don’t give second chances.
People lose themselves on the dance floor, rubbing against each other, and some even dance away to the quiet corners to fuck each other’s brains out.
Threesomes, foursomes. Whatever they wish as long as it’s consensual between the adults.
They pay a hefty price to come here, and we love to thrive in chaos. What’s more chaotic than exposing people to their deepest vices and then using it to our advantage?
We’re all billionaires, and the only reason we decided to open this place was to use it as a cover-up and a blackmailing ground since no one bothers to hide their sexual preferences in here. One thing powerful and wealthy men love more than money…is exclusivity.
Dangle the word around them long enough and praise the club, and they will do anything to get in because receiving an invitation from us is a different form of status and prestige.
Any kind of relationship in this world is a chess game. You play it right, and you’ll get what you want with minimal effort and the least loss.
Despite the huge profits our establishment brings, it’s pocket change for the likes of us, and we donate most of it to four charities.
Santiago’s share goes to the families affected by great loss.
Remi’s share goes to foster children who dream about higher education, and he’s funded several scholarships.
Octavius’s share goes to the shelter for abused people that he opened up in our name to help them escape dangerous situations and get a second chance in life.
Mine go to a special shelter I created for teenagers whose parents kicked them out for whatever reason. Be it for their sexuality, different religious views, or lack thereof. They finish school in peace and have some financial resources to pursue further education.
“Oh my God. It’s them!” a woman exclaims, her slurred voice bringing my attention back to the present. “The owners.”
“They are so hot,” her friend says, grinning at me and adjusting her short dress, but she freezes under my cold stare that warns her in advance to back off.
None of us is looking for company tonight, especially me.
The place is decorated with silver, red, and black colors, representing the riders, a nice personal touch I’ve added to the decor to make it more ours and serve as a reminder to everyone that just like in the myth…we will cause the greatest suffering to whoever dares to cross us.
The bar is located in the back right corner, with four bartenders busily preparing drinks for everyone. The rest of the staff can easily navigate through the club to booths and tables in the left corner. They deliver orders of steaming food on porcelain dishes picked out by Remi.
Each one of them wears black pants and a white button-up shirt.
While picking a furniture design, we settled on round, leather couches comfortable enough to sit in, along with round tables with lamps on them should anyone need to speak privately. The VIPs are on the second floor, which has several soundproof rooms with surveillance cameras in case trouble arises and someone might need our help.
Four cages hang from the ceiling with dancers inside wearing provocative clothes, showcasing their skills and flexibility to the awe of everyone watching. The crystals on the chandeliers shift in the breeze from the AC, brightening up the entire space with colorful lights.
Pushing through the bodies, I focus on the dark corridor behind the bar leading to the elevator, which will take us downstairs. The floor below holds our meeting room, and individual fuck pads are always available if the mood strikes us.
We don’t bring women home. Our personal spaces are sacred to us, and none of us is looking for a relationship. We’re clear about our intentions from the very beginning, so if women get hurt by their delusions, it’s not our problem.
Maybe it’s cold and harsh, but you either accept the rules or step aside.
Pressing the button for the elevator, I slip inside and turn around to see the guys joining me, staying silent as we ride downstairs, tension rising among us all. I can practically hear their annoyed voices, cursing me in their heads because they planned to enjoy the party.
Leaving early tends to upset Aunt Esme, which means it upsets Uncle Lucian, who can still box our ears if we do some stupid shit, according to him.
This couldn’t wait, though, and besides…I couldn’t stand watching Jimena play the peacemaker between her father and brother, shadowing them and shifting conversations whenever they were about to come to blows.
The constant fear in her eyes, her rigid posture, and her forced smiles angered the beast within me, wanting to grab her and take her away so she wouldn’t have to act like a fucking clown for her family.
Finally, we get out, going to the spacious meeting room with a huge round table with four chairs, a TV hanging on the wall, laptops, and four tablets.
And a golden bowl right in the middle of the table.
Santiago lets all of us in and shuts the door behind us with a loud thud. “Mind telling me why the fuck we left my parents’ party in such a hurry?” Even though his voice stays bored and indifferent, I still hear traces of fury dancing on the edges of it that he fails to mask. “You better have a good explanation for this, amigo.”
Snatching the cigarette from my back pocket, I put it in my mouth and light it up as I drop into my chair. Remi and Santiago follow suit, sitting in theirs while Octavius grabs the whiskey and tequila bottles from the fridge and four glasses before occupying his own chair.
They are positioned in such a way that we all have a perfect view of each other and can never miss any details. Inhaling a greedy pull, I send the smoke flying and reply, “I must have missed the part where I asked you to come with me.” Octavius pours a generous amount into a glass and slides it toward me, the brown liquid spilling on the table. “I believe I’m the one who should be asking questions here. I don’t need babysitters.”
“My patience is running thin, Florian,” Remi says, wrapping his hand around my glass and lifting it to his mouth, earning a laugh from Santiago.
The idea of Remi having patience for anything is indeed laughable as his hotheaded nature has brought us a lot of problems in the past.
The man is incapable of thinking before acting on his instincts, which annoys my strategic mind.
Our actions always have consequences, so we don’t have the privilege to act out unless we are a hundred percent sure about our decisions.
And considering his obsession with a certain someone, he’ll get us all in a mess that even I won’t be able to stop or fix.
“For once, I agree with Remi. Start talking.” Octavius pours the alcohol into the remaining glasses, sending them our way. Catching mine, I taste the whiskey. “Florian.” Warning coats his tone, and I still, catching his harsh stare with mine as annoyance zaps through me.
He might be my best friend, and I’d die for him. That’s just how we rolled since we were six years old, a friendship tested with loyalty, blood, and suffering. However, we do not have leaders among us like some kind of motorcycle club with presidents and enforcers. Just imagining that kind of shit is hilarious because none of us deals with authority well. Although among a certain circle, we lead them to believe Octavius is it. He can handle all the negotiations among different territories with serial killers.
Each one of us holds equal power in this brotherhood, and for this reason alone, we’ve managed to be part of it for such a long time.
“I don’t have to explain myself to any of you.” My cold tone leaves no room for argument, but they all frown, so I add, “However, I feel generous tonight, so I’m going to share.” Taking another pull from the cigarette, I exhale the smoke and say, “Death is back.”
Tension cracks the energy around us, filling it with anger and rage all at once. It’s so thick I can practically touch it, and despite the serious situation, a chuckle slips past my lips. “In his true fashion, he sent a few decoys my way and then proceeded to warn me about the upcoming mayhem he’ll cause.”
The fucker made his whole existence about my family, so I’m not even surprised he knows where to push.
My best friends lean back in their chairs, Remi finishing his drink while Santiago traces the rim of his tequila glass with his finger as Octavius continues to sip, deep scowls marring their features.
Death has caused a lot of grief over the years, and maybe that’s why my favorite horseman has been the fourth rider.
No matter how much I try, I can’t escape the death permanently attached to me since taking my first breath and demanding vengeance for the offense done to him.
And as we know… Death only accepts one currency.
Your soul.
A sacrifice of sorts, I’d say, except the fucker makes random decisions designed to drive me insane rather than strategic planning with any coherent thought in mind.
Since the silence stretches out, I continue because time is money. That’s a rule you quickly learn when you grow up within high society, as every minute wasted could’ve been spent building your generational wealth.
“He’s hiding in the shadows, but it doesn’t stop him from throwing threats, which means he’s waiting or hunting.”
Understanding flashes in Santiago’s eyes as he places his glass on the table with a loud thud. “You think he’s waiting for you to ascend the throne and make Kian second in line.”
“But didn’t Uncle Jacob change the rules? Even if Florian dies, his brother doesn’t become an heir. He’s banned from ever accessing the money from the Price empire or working there.” I still hear traces of disbelief and anger aimed at my father in Octavius’s voice, who he loves but cannot understand.
Dad’s decision has been a sore subject in our family for years. It’s one of the reasons my eighteen-year-old baby brother ran away to the boarding school located on some island where rich kids do fucked-up things and no one says shit, as they always have money to bribe whoever they wrong.
An artistic, silent kid who adored going to museums and exploring the art world while creating the most beautiful masterpieces by sculpting them cemented his passion and transformed him into an asshole who apparently deems himself a king in his high school. Considering his childhood psychiatric diagnosis, it’s a deadly combination.
I lost count of how many times I had to go there to fix issues, especially with him having an unhealthy obsession with a certain nerdy girl who happens to be a senator’s daughter.
He rarely comes home, and if he does, he talks only to Mom and gives Grandpa, Dad, and me the silent treatment on most days. His ten-billion-dollar future trust fund did nothing to amend the damage.
In his own way, Dad did everything to protect his two sons from Death and not lose a child again, and while I understand…I can never take the reins from him knowing how much it hurts Kian.
Which only fuels my desire to catch the son of a bitch even more so I forever erase the hurt and fear looming over my family and tearing Mom’s heart in two.
Remi clears his throat, bringing my attention back to the present, playing with the rim of his glass. “If he has no reasons to escalate, why do you think he’s on the hunt?” Something flashes in his gaze while Octavius pauses his glass midway to his mouth, quickly reading the tension between us while Santiago stays oblivious, guzzling his tequila with no care in the world.
We might all be best friends, but Remi and me…our relationship has always been complicated. We’ll die for each other in a heartbeat and protect each other, no questions asked. But there is always this wall between us that we never want to break for whatever reason, as contradicting as it sounds.
If it weren’t for Santiago and Octavius, we wouldn’t even stay friends because we have nothing in common besides annoying the shit out of each other.
“So? Why is he threatening you right now?” An odd edge coats his tone, and Santiago narrows his eyes on him before shifting his crystal-clear blue eyes on me. My fist clenches as they remind me of another pair of blue eyes.
More vivid. More warm.
Just fucking more—that used to look at me with adoration and admiration, but now fear and shame blankets them, making me want to destroy everything and everyone.
Fear and shame have no place in her life. These emotions belong only to me.
“Him threatening me right now lifts the curtain on his rather deviant mind.” Remi drums his fingers on the table, and by the glint in his gaze, I know he won’t let go until he hears the truth, but he’ll stay put for now. “He made a mistake by contacting me because it allowed me to form his clear serial killer profile.”
Octavius crosses his arms as he ponders my words. “Death has fucked with your family for generations. Almost fifty years, to be exact. He must be, what? In his seventies now? He might have just lost his head. Studying his modus operandi is useless.”
Santiago nods. “He sent your grandfather letters threatening to kill his oldest heir if the Price family won’t give up their rights to all their patents and land where the diamonds are produced. No one paid attention to it, so one year later, he kidnapped your uncle and killed him. But he made a mistake because your uncle was younger. By default, your father became an heir.”
Silence once fucking again falls between us because no one wants to voice what needs to be said next.
After all, I rarely, if ever, discuss it. We all have sacred wounds none of us touch or even breathe near because the rage it might cause will be disastrous for the brotherhood.
Remi places his elbows on the table, flipping the lighter through his fingers, and his tone stays even, although his whole attention is zeroing in on me as he speaks up. You can always count on him to aim the fire my way should shit erupt.
Like I said.
There is not much love between us, so we don’t mind upsetting each other. “Years later Uncle Jacob got a similar message regarding his sons. Compared to Grandpa Atlas, he took it more seriously and surrounded you with as much security as possible while the police searched for the fucker.” Some more drumming on the table while Santiago and Octavius exchange a long look, sitting up straighter as they all watch for my reaction. “Since you were born a twin, he had no idea who was older and kidnapped whoever happened to be close. Your brother.”
“I’m so afraid, Florian,” Frederick whispers in my ear as I hug him close, the water dripping from the sink, and our bare toes curl into the rusty ground, several mice running around the perimeter as disgusting smells twitch my nose. “So afraid.”
“Shhh. We have each other, Frederick. Nothing will happen,” I whisper back as we scoot farther into the corner, and I do my best to shield my twin from the monsters who roam outside the cell, smiling as he plays with his knife. “Just stay quiet,” I beg him, hoping he would not listen to the monster who promises to give us back to Daddy once we answer the question.
One simple question.
Who is the oldest?
My friends have no idea what truly happened back then, though.
“And then one of us died, so he got his sacrifice,” I finish the story for them, gulping the whiskey and welcoming the bitter taste that pulls me away from the memories that serve only one purpose.
Fuel my anger and rage designed to unleash the most vicious things on those who deserve it, and as such, shows me that I’m a monster too.
And monsters have no right to touch princesses destined for love and affection from princes.
Although if any prince thinks he’s worthy of Jimena, he’d end up dead in a ditch somewhere because she belongs to me.
However damaging that might be.
My obsession, though, will never be my undoing, as only a cool head can bring results.
The glass in my hand cracks, and I push it aside before I hurl it at the wall, letting it break into tiny little pieces.
Just like I broke her heart.
“I don’t think the one who’s threatening me is the same man who kidnapped my twin.” They all freeze at this. “This one is more reckless, younger, and daring. He acts as if he has a right to fuck with me, and his messages aren’t centered on the firstborn theme. It’s more about hurting me and those close to me.”
Santiago’s brow furrows. “You think he has an accomplice or a copycat?”
Remi shakes his head and answers his question before I can. “No. He thinks this is his heir.”
“A son?”
“Or any kid Death decided to raise as his so he could continue his legacy by terrorizing the Price family. Except he seems to be breaking the rules and not sticking to Death’s plans.” Reaching out for the bottle, I don’t bother pouring it into the glass and just take one more long gulp straight from it. “Death must still be alive, but he no longer calls the shots. This new fucker is unpredictable, moody, and the worst part? He has this need to prove himself, which means his crimes and threats will be escalating. He already sent me a few pictures of the people he killed in preparation.” The things done to these people were inhumane and spoke about a true psycho that awaited me at the end of this journey. “I’ll do my best to catch him, but the mayhem he can cause in the meantime…that’s another story.”
“Maybe we need to inform Lachlan about it,” Octavius suggests. “He can keep an eye on any fucker roaming in New York and give us intel should he show up there.”
We all chuckle at the idea because Lachlan won’t do shit just for the heck of it. He’ll demand a price, and it will probably involve us listening to him.
Fuck that shit.
The Four Dark Horsemen listen to no one but ourselves.
And if someone or something stands in our way?
We destroy it until we get what we crave so much.
“We won’t do it because he will demand that I back off. And I’m telling you right now it’s a fucking no,” Remi says, and I roll my eyes.
That’s what happens when one gets obsessed with someone they shouldn’t. Not that I have any place to judge, but I’m still judging.
Ignoring him, Octavius asks me instead, “So what’s the plan?”
Setting the bottle aside, I get up and twist the ring on my finger, slipping it off. “I need to ask you a question first.”
They all frown at me, anger crossing their faces. At the same time, the muscles in their cheeks twitch speaking about barely contained violence ready to erupt at me for even suggesting something like this. Still, I’m just following the rules we set a long time ago on that rainy day in Octavius’s house when we got connected by a cold-blooded murderer.
The Four Dark Horsemen were born on that day, and along with the brotherhood came vows and rules.
“Death always had one goal in mind. To wipe away the Price family legacy from this world and he used all the heirs as weapons in his plans. Insane and psychotic, but he had a clear purpose. Our shit didn’t touch anyone else, and he never dedicated his attention to anyone else.” A beat passes. “However, this time around, it’s different. His son is unpredictable, and his wrath has the power to touch anyone close to me, which means he’s potentially dangerous to you all.”
We operate as a unity, creating a powerful front nothing can break, which means everyone stays away from us.
Any small thing can shake the unity and lead to the downfall of all four involved, one of the reasons we’ve agreed to vote on decisions.
If a vote is not in someone’s favor, it means one of the four is on his own and deals with his situation separately, without endangering anyone else.
Throwing my emerald ring into the bowl right in the middle of the table, the rattling sound ringing in the air makes me think back to the day I made it.
Or rather, made them.
“What the fuck is this?” Remi asks, picking up one of the rings with a black jewel and examining it closely.
“These are our rings.” I give them all the rest of the rings, each one of them having a different color stone in the middle that matches our eyes while the overall shape and the platinum surrounding it is identical. “With this, we are part of the Four Dark Horsemen, our unity.”
“Isn’t it like a chick thing?” Octavius wonders, slipping a ring on his hand. They all look good on us, not standing out as unnecessary accessories. I’d spent four days inside the studio, polishing them to perfection after designing them for weeks. They had to be exactly what we needed to reflect our true nature. “I vote for matching tattoos.”
“We’ll do that too.” Remi shows us the design on his sketch pad along with the quote, In chaos do we thrive.
“That’s what makes us feel alive,” Santiago replies, and we all laugh while the darkness slowly settles into our hearts as the full meaning of this hits us.
Those rings forever represent one simple truth.
We’re murderers.
The clock hanging on the wall ticks loudly, the only sound filling the room, and I go back to my chair, dropping into it and kicking my feet up on the table as I continue to nurse my whiskey, awaiting their reply to my silent question.
Dread slips into every bone in my body when they all throw their rings in the bowl, one by one, promising to stick with me through anything and ready to fight whoever threatens me.
A decision I never wanted them to make, but I never doubted their choice.
Once upon a time, a group of boys made a decision.
Form two groups of best friends that would be able to defend each other if a fight erupted inside the four.
And connect each other with one brotherhood.
A brotherhood that would seal their fates together and cement a friendship that nothing would be able to break.
Even death.