Chapter 10
“Unrequited love is a weapon.
I just never expected him to use it against me.
How foolish.
For monsters feed on your pain.
As it sustains their dark and cruel souls.”
Jimena
From Jimena’s emails to Florian…
Hi Florian!
I’m fifteen years old, and it’s been almost a year since I joined the boarding school.
I love everything about it even though I miss home like crazy, but still.
To have this freedom while experiencing the best education in the world?
Nothing compares to it.
I was happy to see you during my latest visit home a few weeks back, but I was so sad we didn’t get to share a single conversation because you were so busy.
I wouldn’t have bothered you right now, but something scrapes at my soul, and I need your advice on how to proceed before I can go talk to Santiago.
So here it goes.
I know, Florian.
About the Four Dark Horsemen and what you do.
I’ve seen photos, videos, and…my heart hurts, and I felt sick to my stomach.
You’re true monsters from all these horror stories who do vile things to people and have no remorse about it if your smiles or indifferent expressions are anything to go by.
However, you’ve always been kind and gentle with me, so despite my shock, my curious nature won. I’ve snooped around where I shouldn’t have to find more information about your deeds.
You kill bad people who deserve it, not that it absolves you from your sins or gives you the right to decide who lives or doesn’t.
I shouldn’t understand or sympathize, but I do.
A crime to wipe away another crime…
It’s wrong either way, and keeping my mouth shut about it all makes me an accomplice, right?
After pondering it for a while, I concluded that it both terrified and freed me.
I don’t mind being an accomplice if it means killing all these people who sell and hurt children or anyone else. Who believe that after they do evil things there will be no punishment for their deeds.
I want them all to burn in hell because people like them ruined my family and countless other lives.
It’s strange, this feeling inside me that finds justifications for the crimes and doesn’t even judge you much.
I could never take a life myself, but if your crimes mean more people can live in peace?
It’s all right with me, and kudos to you all.
My moral compass clearly is as warped as yours.
I’m not writing this email to inform you that I know, because I think you already know.
I have a question you might not answer, and that’s okay.
I’ll still ask you.
What happened to you, Florian?
Why did you become a part of the Four Dark Horsemen?
Santiago experienced hell on earth, Remi had the worst luck just for being born, while Octavius existed in a never-ending nightmare.
They all have their reasons that are so easy to guess.
Try as I might, though, I can’t guess yours, and I need to.
It hurts my heart to think that someone harmed you so much in the past that the only way for you to numb your pain was to become a murdering monster.
If you share your secret, I’ll keep it safe.
But even if you don’t…
I want you to know that I love you, Florian.
Nothing will ever change that.
P.S. What’s your opinion on unrequited love? It’s a random question, but we had this whole debate with a friend about it, and I wondered if you believed in it or considered it stupid.
Loving someone who can never love you back? Is it pathetic? Sad? Pitiful?
And…
Is there any point to it, and does it have a cure?
You’re way older than me, so maybe you have a wiser answer for me than my friends.
From Florian’s emails to Jimena…
Our brotherhood was created on blood and secrets because the darkness residing within us needed an outlet for our rage.
Certain emotions and desires cannot be contained for long. Otherwise, they will consume you. Is there anything worse than being ruled by your vices?
The interesting thing about evil is that it always has to have a reason, right?
Something must have happened to the person to become a monster because why else would he or she do hideous things?
What if I told you some people don’t need a reason to hurt someone? They just find complete absolution while doing so, and it feeds them, giving them the biggest high in the world?
How would it make you feel, princess?
Scared? Disgusted? Panicked because you grew up with such a man?
Accepting the evilness of others and thinking they’re doing the right thing are two different things.
The reason you find justification for these actions…deep down, you have a darkness inside you too, princess.
The anger and hate you feel toward the man who kidnapped and hurt Santiago and ruined your childhood.
To you, they deserve death, and you feel a sense of relief from that. I know you well enough to make such a statement. No sane person would have written this email to me or reacted this nonchalantly to the truth.
They say serial killers kill their abusers over and over again, trying to outrun their memories and the voices in their heads that urge them to do bad things.
You don’t justify our actions because you love us.
You justify our actions because it cures the little girl living inside you who wishes to punish all these men who took away what was supposed to be yours.
The human psyche is a complicated thing to explore, but oh-so fascinating, isn’t it?
What happened to me?
Isn’t that the million-dollar question?
Don’t bother seeking answers on my behalf.
It doesn’t matter what.
The only thing that matters is the consequences of my actions.
But I promise you.
I will never hurt you and always protect you because you’re part of my family.
P.S. Unrequited love.
You never ask a question just because, so I assume you fell in love with someone, and he doesn’t feel the same?
Although the idea of anyone hurting you fills me with rage, I have to say, princess…let go.
If you need to beg people to love you, it’s not love.
It’s sickness, and every sickness has to be cured.
Move on.
Move on before it consumes you and sucks up all your light from you.
And remember one universal truth.
True love heals.
It never hurts.
Florian
“Please,” a naked man covered in blood and his piss whispers, pulling at his hands nailed to the wall. I drop several glass bottles on the floor, smiling when they shatter into tiny pieces, scattering by his bare feet. “Please, I don’t know anything.”
I click my tongue, swinging the metallic cane from side to side. “That’s not true, Peter. You know I despise lies.” He pales even more, trying to step away when I come closer, only to cry out when the glass cuts into his soles and draws more blood. His lips tremble while perspiration covers his skin, and his heartbeat speeds up, judging by the wildly beating pulse. “So I’m going to ask one more time, and depending on your answer, your death will be either quicker or longer.” He swallows hard, leaning on his arm while fear blankets his eyes. “Where is Death?”
“I have no idea. He vanished into thin air.” Annoyance zaps through me at his hoarse voice that grates on my nerves, and since he insists on being useless, I raise my hand, ready to torture him some more, when he quickly adds, “He had a kid. A young boy.”
I pause at this, cocking my head to the side, ready to listen because it’s been two months, and while I managed to kill countless people associated with Death, none of them knew anything about his kid or his real name.
His various dealings and victims? Yes.
Some of the houses he had over the years? Yes.
But actually seeing his face in the light and giving me information I could use to wipe away the fucker?
Nothing, and in this, my frustration only grew, which escalated my violent tendencies.
The rest of the dark four, especially Octavius, tried to reason with me, but I told them all to fuck off. And while Santiago and Remi backed off, Octavius punched me instead and stayed for several torture sessions so I wouldn’t lose my head.
Thank God I chose him as my best friend because no one else would have been able to handle my moody ass.
Or rather…
The only one who knows about Jimena.
At the thought of my dark-haired beauty, unfamiliar softness along with warmth glides through my veins, awakening every protective and possessive instinct inside me screaming at me to get my woman and lock her in my castle so I could indulge in her sensuality and sexy body, drinking my fill and fucking her so hard she forgets about everyone and everything else.
They say Cortez men love their women to the point of insanity. They are consumed with them, and it just makes me want to laugh because I can’t fucking imagine being more obsessed with my woman than I already am.
Anger still fills me at the idea of her thinking I could have approached anyone else in the club that night.
I know every little detail about her, down to how her nose twitches when she doesn’t like something, or her soft intake of breath whenever something shocks her.
I recognized her instantly, my whole body growing hard at the sight of her in my domain, although I despised the mask and wig hiding her from me.
My only type is her, and that includes her long, silky dark hair.
I played along because, for a moment in time, it allowed us both to pretend to be two strangers who fell in lust with each other without the families, death threats, and all other issues breathing down our necks.
If she had been anyone else, claiming her would have been easy, but then I wouldn’t change anything.
Although Ive seen it while growing up, I have no clue what love is, and my emotions cannot be called love anyway.
I’m obsessive and possessive. Madness consumes me at the thought of her, and I want to mark her body with my bites and cum so no man dares to touch what’s mine, but more importantly…it leaves no doubt in that scared head of hers that she belongs to me, and I’m hers.
There is no competition when it comes to me because no one but her exists for me.
Women have always been easily available to me, and while I showed them respect, I never got attached or slept with anyone twice.
Intimacy leads to relationships and disastrous consequences, so I avoided it like the plague, always staying honest. Anyone would do if the mood struck me.
However, I haven’t thought, touched, or looked at another woman since Jimena kissed me under the mistletoe.
She owned me with one kiss, and the ironic part about it…she doesn’t even know it was my first kiss as well. Among other things.
I’m wicked, but I managed to save something for her.
“I’ve only seen him once. He was around six years old. Very pretty blond kid who smiled a lot. Everything made him happy but especially other kids locked in cages.” Peter’s voice brings me back to the present, and I blink away, focusing on him while he breathes heavily and licks away the blood dripping down his lips. “I found him weird, but Death was proud of him. He called him a son who was always destined to become his and continue his legacy.”
My woman is mine, and I don’t have the privilege of claiming her because of Death, so it fuels my rage even further, spiking up my sadistic tendencies. I stab the pierced tip of the metallic cane into Peter’s foot, earning myself an agonized scream. I enjoy it for a few seconds while pondering all the information he has given me.
Despite hating our family and targeting us specifically for years, Death still kidnapped other children and kept them in special warehouses where he invited rich clients so they could do vile things to them for the right price. He preferred to watch or listen, always laughing whenever a kid begged for mercy.
And it seems among all these children, he found a born psychopath, and as a self-absorbed narcissist, for Death to notice anyone but himself is strange and concerning.
Usually, psychos are more attuned to emotions in a sense that they know how to manipulate their victims better. However, Death never used manipulation.
He threatened and then inflicted pain with no care in the world, so what possessed him to pick a kid and raise him as his own?
Was it just about his fucked-up legacy, or was there more to it?
“And the boy? He enjoyed all the attention?”
Peter nods, stepping away and wincing when he encounters the glass once again. “He thrived in it and even pointed at several kids, wanting to see them hurt first. According to him, they needed to learn a lesson, and Death approved of his methods.” He shudders. “It was fucking scary because his eyes were absolutely cold. I couldn’t stand it, so I grabbed my money and left.”
He says it with so much pride, and hope flashes in his gaze like his confession serves as absolution for all his sins.
My grip on the cane tightens, and I deliver a harsh hit to his stomach, making him whimper, his back connecting with the wall that has sharp thorns digging into his skin. “So different from all these other children, right? Who pleaded with you all only to be met with indifference and your endless greed that resulted in them losing their innocence and lives?” He pales again, and I wrap my hand around his throat, squeezing so hard he turns blue and struggles for breath. “Where is Death? You’ve operated all his dealings and connected him with rich clients willing to pay obscene amounts as long as you delivered on their kinks.” Peter has always been on my list, but the fucker got plastic surgery and opened a legitimate business, raising a family in the suburbs. “He had nothing without you handling his books. Where is he, Peter?”
“I have no idea. After he took in the kid, he called me once to tell me that he was closing up the business and moving to fuck knows where to raise his little psycho. He just ordered me to transfer the money to the account in Switzerland, and I did it so he wouldn’t threaten to expose me.” He coughs when I loosen my grip on him and step back. “Once we cut ties, I changed and moved on. I’m a law-abiding citizen and a good family man. I love my family and haven’t committed a crime for over twenty years.” He rests his head against the wall, holding my gaze. “Everyone deserves a second chance. Please forgive me and let me go.”
“Do you still remember the account number?” He frowns, clearly shocked at the question. “Think fast, Peter, because I’m getting bored.”
“Yes. I do.” He quickly recites it to me, and I memorize it, deciding to try tracking Death through this and building a clearer profile on the fucker in my head with all this information on the kid.
At least now I know for sure the person hunting me is around my age and has no limits, and those psychos who have no morals and limits…are the most dangerous of all.
As they indulge in their dark cravings to see how much suffering they can inflict on human beings, enjoying the torture on some deeper level that has no result.
His one goal is to make everyone suffer, and you can’t negotiate with such evil. The only option is to permanently extinguish it.
“You’ll forgive me then, Florian?” Peter gulps for breath. “I had no choice back then. I would have never done what I did otherwise. Please forgive me. My children…they love me. I’m a good father.”
“Please don’t,” I ask with a trembling voice, flipping on my back and pushing him away while his laughter echoes in my ears. “Please don’t, please.”
Instead of listening to me, he grips my hair so harsh he rips a few strands, and a painful cry slips past my lips while he forcefully drags me on my knees and turns me toward a monster. “Do as you’re told, boy.”
“I have a question for you, Peter. And if you answer it honestly, I might consider letting you live.” He straightens up, his whole body coming alive while he blinks several times, probably trying to really focus despite all the gushing wounds that must be affecting his concentration. “You have two daughters. Imagine someone doing to them what you’ve done to other children.” He stills. “And after they completely crushed your daughters’ spirits, they come to you and ask for forgiveness. What would you do, Peter? Would you forgive them?” I walk back to my table and grab a silver blade coated in poison that I acquired on one of the islands from a strange but interesting man.
The poison quickly gets into the bloodstream and freezes the entire body, forcing it to pump blood fiercely while speeding up the heartbeat, keeping the body alive for at least thirty minutes as inexplicable pain fills the host.
The highest form of torture is to lie there and not be able to do anything.
I turn back to him and ask again, “Well? Would you forgive them?”
“No,” he finally whispers, and a smile shapes my mouth at this because at least he’s honest. “It’s unforgivable.” A beat passes. “It’s an honest answer.”
“It is,” I agree, and I slowly go back to him, the glass crushing under my boots while he tenses. “But you see, I don’t give a fuck about your remorse.” I stab him hard right into his dick. He used it as a weapon in the past, harming so many children just to teach them a lesson, and now he screams so hard I cover his mouth, squeezing his jaw until it breaks in my grip.
I have no time for his cries either.
Tearing his hand from the nails, enjoying how half of his flesh is torn and bruised, I forcefully push him to lie on the floor with the blade peeking up from him and keeping the blood intact while he slowly starts—or rather, continues—to suffer. “May you never find peace, Peter, and I hope the devil has a special plan for you in the afterlife. Send him my warmest regards and remember, if we ever meet there? Run. Because I’ll kill you again.” I kick him in the face and spin around, despising his cowardly nature that reminds me of the hopeless boy I used to be.
I’ve killed all the men involved in that ring that took away everything from me, and there are only two players left.
Death is number one on my list, but right now, I don’t care about him because he’s an enemy who is easy to read and too old to do anything to me.
His adoptive psycho son, though?
He cannot be controlled, and there is no limit to his cruelty because, as a natural-born psychopath, the need to destroy rides him hard, which solidifies my decision.
Until I catch him, I can’t show my true intentions and emotions when it comes to Jimena. In fact, I have to do everything in my power to convince him otherwise.
Because my godparents and parents aren’t on his radar.
My best friends can protect themselves.
But my innocent girl?
She’s my weakness and one weapon he can always use against me, and I won’t allow him.
I’ll do everything to protect her.
Even if it means breaking her heart over and over again.
Jimena
“No,” I whisper as I stare at the white stick in my hand, fear along with panic washing over me while my stomach flips several times. “No, no, no.”
I lean back on the wall, gripping the stick tighter as the word flashing from the display plays repeatedly in my head because it announces my upcoming doom.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and swallow hard, hoping for the image to change, but once I look at it again, my illusions shatter, leaving me in the mess I’ve created all on my own.
Pregnant.
Oh my God.
I’m pregnant!
How did this happen?
My cheeks heat as I sit on the edge of the bathtub and put away the stick, groaning because if there is one thing I know well, it’s how it happened.
“Come for me, princess,” he whispers over my skin right before biting into my flesh and driving hard into me, dragging me closer and closer to the unknown peak as my whole body tightens in anticipation. “Do it.”
Heat travels all over my system from the memories alone, the night imprinting itself on my mind as there is no break from the sensual images.
Or the coldness attached to it, because everything went to hell afterward.
I should have known better than to fall for my brother’s best friend and pretend to be someone else when he decided to fuck some random redhead in the club.
Shame penetrates my every bone, and a raspy breath escapes me while a single tear falls down my cheek that I quickly wipe away.
Crying won’t help me, but then again, I’m not sure anything will.
After Florian’s harsh rejection, I ran away from the club like a fugitive being chased by the police and ended up home before anyone found anything out. I made it my mission to avoid him ever since.
It should have been easy with him not welcoming my company. My parents urged me to apply to various universities and I finally settled on psychology as my major while being busy with all the entrance exams and a new chapter in my life.
That included an apartment in the city because I couldn’t imagine living at my parents place, and surprisingly, they approved, although Dad warned me he’d visit all the time.
I just rolled my eyes and carried on.
However, my brother started taking me out more frequently to various places and even New York City once, claiming we had to spend more time together. Only, our time together included the rest of the dark four.
Those encounters always ended up awkward because Florian didn’t hide his disdain toward me, and I did my best to pretend everything was fine.
Whoever said loving someone who doesn’t love you back was the worst thing ever lied.
The worst thing ever is loving someone who despises you and acts as if you don’t exist while continuing to charm women around you and sleep with them.
Every single time he disappeared with women in the dark corners, my heart broke anew, thinking about him doing all the stuff he has done with me…only to do them with all these women.
It’s a wonder his dick hasn’t fallen off from all the action he’s given it lately. Thanks to that, I even mastered my poker face, refusing to show him how much it hurt me so he could shove his punishments up his ass. I mean, I’ve never actually seen him do anything to them or touch them, but it’s easy to guess.
I wipe away another tear and get up, shaking my head as dwelling on what-ifs is useless.
It’s one thing to be in love and quite another to act pathetic and want a man who has no respect for you.
After washing my hands in the sink, I turn the faucet off and dry them on the nearby towel, all the while watching my reflection in the mirror.
From the dark circles under my eyes since I’d been puking earlier in the morning to my dry lips because I keep biting on them whenever I’m nervous, which seems to be my permanent state.
I freeze, my insides clenching, imagining my family’s reaction, my secret, and the fit society and the press will have with it.
Everyone will judge me or call me stupid for having a baby so young while I have all the opportunities in the world to explore life and live it to the fullest without chaining myself to a baby.
It will be a mess and a scandal followed by scrutiny and hatred because no one will understand once the father’s identity is revealed.
They’ll turn it into something wrong and dirty, claiming he touched me way before I became legal, and build all these theories that would paint us both in a vile light and serve as a lesson to everyone else.
I’ve seen such stories play out countless times, and while in some cases they are valid, it can’t be further from the truth in ours.
Shouting from the rooftops about me seducing him will be useless, though, as no one would believe it and just assume he corrupted my innocent mind.
Especially Dad. A new wave of nausea hits me, picturing him choking Florian to death for daring to touch his little girl.
“This is such a mess,” I whisper. “A nightmare in the making that will change everything.” Even though I say these words, they sound wrong to my ears, maybe because deep down…I’ve always wanted it.
I love to try new things and focus more on the charity foundations of our empire rather than thinking about how to change the world with my accomplishments. One of the reasons I didn’t go pro when it came to harp was because music served as my safe haven, and I didn’t want to turn it into this thing I have to do rather than enjoy it.
Admitting you want to find the love of your life and build a family among those who always strive to succeed is rather shameful.
And privileged too, considering I have a billion-dollar inheritance, so I don’t have to work to live a luxurious life.
Except…
My dream crashed and burned since the man in question hates my guts and won’t be happy about all this, and in this case, the baby is not a blessing.
I grab my phone, sliding it open and tapping on the display, then press on Luna’s name.
She picks up on the third ring, her cheerful voice echoing in my ear and calming me down for a brief second. “Hi, babe! How have you been?” I hear razor-sharp sounds, so she must be cutting something. “I’m in the studio right now working on my latest statue, so if you can—”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Fuck the statue.” Silence instantly falls around us as she must have stopped whatever she’s been doing. “Who is the father?”
“What do you mean, who’s the father? Florian!”
I called Luna right away after losing my virginity, only to find out that Vincent dragged her to Vegas, and they got hitched.
“Well, I had to ask. It’s been weeks. Would it be so wrong to assume you had a revenge fuck with some hot hunk to get back at him?”
She says it so matter-of-factly I barely manage to pick up my jaw from the floor. “Yes. Sex is supposed to be about my pleasure, not trying to prove something to my…hookup?” Not sure what I’m supposed to call Florian at this point, and I huff in frustration. “Let’s focus, Luna. I’m pregnant, and I’m freaking out, so I need you to calm me down before I spill my guts once again.” I flip open the water bottle and greedily gulp it. “Well? Any suggestions?”
“Okay, okay. Hmm…let’s think about it rationally. First…are you keeping the baby or not? Because my plan of action depends on your answer.”
Placing my splayed palm on my abdomen, I sigh and rub it a little, thinking about all the options I have at my disposal. Despite my young age, I always wanted a baby, and I have all the financial means to support it with or without my familys approval. “I’m keeping the baby.”
“Okay.” She fails to hide her surprise and exhales a heavy breath. “Okay,” she repeats, which makes me think nothing, in fact, is okay. “So you have to talk to Florian. He has a right to know.” I nod even though she can’t see me. “It’s better he finds out from you than someone else.”
“I know.” I might be mad at him and disgusted at myself for lusting after such a man who fucks everything that moves just to prove a point to me, but still. As the father, he has rights and responsibilities. “If he decides to be involved, then we can tell our families together.”
“If?” Luna snaps, her tone changing to full-on pissed off. “You weren’t the only one having sex that night, Jimena. The hell you mean if?”
“I won’t force him to be in the baby’s life if he doesn’t want to, Luna. We all have a right to decide that for ourselves, and it won’t make him an ass.” I won’t budge on this one because I strongly believe in that. A father who hates his kid is worse than an absent father. “Sounds like I have a plan.” Giving myself one last glance, I hide the test under the sink and go back to my room, breathing the fresh air slipping from the open window and bringing some much-needed relief. “We’re traveling to New York again this weekend. Santiago has some urgent matter to attend to there. I’ll tell Florian then.” My brother’s friend Arson is having some issues with his woman there, and my brother asked me if I minded tagging along to ease some of her tension. Initially, I planned to refuse, but it’s the perfect place to spring the truth on Florian since my brother won’t be around to breathe down my neck. “Wish me luck.”
She stays silent for several beats as I drop on the bed, the cushions swallowing me whole, and stare up at the ceiling, waiting for her to say what’s truly in her heart. My friend can’t lie for shit. “Are you sure about this, Jimena? This baby…it will forever bind you to him. You can fool yourself into believing the storm will pass, but you’re a Cortez and he’s a Price. One character trait you all have in common is stubbornness. He’ll claim that baby, but chances are, he won’t claim you in the process.” She shoots an invisible arrow straight to my bruised heart, and my fingers curl on the blanket, clenching it hard. “Will you survive that? Having him in your life but not really having him? And someday watching him build a family with another woman while he didn’t want to do so with you.”
Oh God, why does it hurt so much?
I force myself to push through these emotions and face the reality anyway. With or without the baby, our families are so tight I will forever have to interact with him in some way. Baby or not.
But at least I will have a part of him, right? As pathetic as it sounds.
“I want the baby, Luna. Please be on my side on this because I’ll have to fight everyone else. I can’t have you on their side.”
She must hear the desperation in my voice because she quickly says, “Sure. Cool. I’m the godmother, right?” She barks a laugh. “I can be the cool aunt who teaches the kid all the wrong things and never take responsibility for it.” A beat passes. “I assume Octavius will be the godfather? He can be the boring uncle who follows all the rules. We’ll balance each other out.”
A smile curves my mouth as I listen to her ramble on about the future, and I roll to the side, rubbing my stomach.
Yes, if Florian accepts the baby, there is no doubt Octavius will be the godfather, and a great one at that. He’s an amazing uncle to his sister’s triplets.
I guess we’ll find out soon enough.
Death
A wide grin spreads on my face when I finish listening to Jimena’s conversation while pleasure spreads through my veins in anticipation of the upcoming kill.
Finally.
A new heir to the throne that the Price family will have no choice but to claim.
And once they do?
The little kid is mine.
Except…
I find old ways boring.
I’ve waited years to deliver my blow that would break Florian in ways nothing else could.
After all, compared to his grandfather and father…he knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Deaths cruelty.
To experience the despair, the pain, and the anger in the most despicable place where nightmares rule and vile creatures roam freely, enjoying tarnishing the innocent because they just taste differently.
I’ve learned a lot over the years from my father to keep the family legacy going, but I’m not his little bitch anymore, and besides, he can’t do shit now.
Follow the rules. Always follow the rules because different rules bring different results, and you want their ruin. Nothing else matters.
A chuckle slips past my lips as I grab the knife from the table and trace it over my veins, barely resisting the need to open up my old wounds and let them bleed.
I’m hungry for blood, but mine won’t do anymore.
This time around, everything will be different.
This time, I’ll personally cut the baby out of her fucking stomach, watching her bleed and die as I kill her kid and film it as a little souvenir for Florian.
Ah, what a glorious sight it would be.
To see him lose not only his child…but the woman he loves.
He’d go mad and never recover.
My plan has always been about Florian, and not the Price dynasty.
Because we have a score to settle.
And to win the game, I need to capture his queen.
Checkmate, Florian.