Chapter 13
“You should be careful who you trust with your secrets.
Because no matter how much they love you, they are still human.
And as such, they will use them against you when you least expect it.”
Florian
Florian, five years old
The beeping sounds echo through the hospital room, the familiar scents twitching my nose as I stare at the huge window brightening up the space around me where the sun beams brightly and birds sit on the trees, chirping.
How interesting.
The outside world goes on while mine completely crumbles.
Dad’s voice booms in the air, snapping me out of my thoughts, but I don’t turn around to look at him. “What do you mean you don’t know why he’s not talking?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Price. We ran all the tests, and even though the wounds were severe…” The doctor’s voice shakes, and I can imagine her taking a moment to compose herself. She does that a lot whenever her gaze lands on my body wrapped in bandages and attached to various IV drips.
Concussion.
Broken right hand and fingers near the joints so they had to perform an extra surgery to put everything in order.
Broken ribs on both sides so I’m not allowed to move in the foreseeable future.
Broken left leg along with endless scars and open wounds on my body.
Not to mention other ripped flesh that they had to deal with, which made even the male doctors cry their eyes out when they thought I wasn’t looking.
The doctor clears her throat. “His vocal cords were damaged, and we did the necessary surgery to fix it. At this point, his lack of talking is psychological, not physiological. The therapist you invited here is amazing, but Florian refuses even to acknowledge her. He needs time, Mr. Price.”
“That’s all I’ve been hearing for the past month and a half. I lost a child. I cannot lose another.” I scrunch my eyes, fisting the blanket hard and breathing through my nose because they killed my twin.
They sent him home in a wooden box, all chopped up. Even detectives couldn’t handle the case without barfing.
They dumped me on some streets for the cops and ambulance to find when they showed up shortly after. My father waited for me at the hospital, and I can never forget his bloodshot eyes with complete sorrow etched on his features while Mother cried in the corner, screaming that God took away her child and left her with the one she never wanted.
My heart hurt from her words because they proved that Frederick was right. But also I was so angry with him for dying.
He got away so easily while I suffered for days in that basement, and I get to live?
Why is life so unfair?
I would have preferred to die than constantly see flashbacks play in my mind and hear voices inside my head that twist my stomach and awaken the deep urge to grab a knife and cut my throat.
That’s why I refuse to talk or look at my dad. I love him so much, and I hate myself for wanting to die as well and leaving him all alone.
Dad and Grandpa practically have been living with me in the hospital all this time. They paid huge amounts of money for our stay and monitored my health the whole time.
Grandpa would come in the morning and read the paper to me or show me his latest designs, drawing a lot and reminding me that once I’m all healed I can go back to my favorite activity.
Designing, something Frederick never loved to do.
My mother never visited, and I’m not surprised, nor do I wish for her presence. All she does is argue in the hallways with Dad and Grandpa about them cutting off her credit cards.
She seems to hate all members of our dynasty sans Frederick and Uncle Bellamy. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Frederick was his son or something.
Except we’re twins so it’s impossible for us to have different dads.
Dad occupied my evenings, sitting on the couch and watching me.
He was the one there if I woke up from the nightmare in sweat. Who helped me to the bathroom because I despise anyone else touching me.
Who combed my hair and changed me into different clothes.
Who read all my favorite books aloud.
The more he showed me his love, the guiltier I felt because all I wanted was to end this suffering, this constant state of doom. The dirt and darkness attached to me no water could wash away.
Every time I looked in the mirror, my reflection horrified me as the scars would always remind me about what they’d done to me.
The monsters who left their marks on me and in this announced to everyone I’m tarnished and broken.
Many nights when my father fell asleep from exhaustion for a few hours, I eyed the knife near the fruit table, and my fingers itched to touch it.
To feel its steel under my palm.
To see it draw blood.
Even now.
My eyes move to the knife, and I’m scared.
Scared I’d do something once I’m healthy enough and break my dad’s heart.
If I could talk to him, I’d say, I feel so dirty, Dad. So dirty, and I can feel the dirt consuming me until nothing but the desire to see my blood remains.
Because water can’t wash it away, but maybe blood can?
The only thing keeping me alive right now is my dad. Grandpa has him, but my dad has no one.
“I’m done listening to you all.” For the first time in weeks, I hear steel lacing my dad’s voice, and this makes me shift my attention to them. He wears a tracksuit instead of his usual clothes, and exhaustion along with anger reeks from him. “My son needs help, and all your advice has been useless.”
“Mr. Price—”
“Only blood relatives are allowed inside here, right? Well, that changes today. You can take it to the board who, by the way, owes me money.”
She frowns in confusion, and I blink as well, trying to understand what he means.
From Grandpa who loves to chat about everything, I found they made Frederick’s death public but not what happened to me. They just told everyone I was away in another country for the time being.
So all this has been a secret, and I was glad.
I didn’t want Santiago to come and see me like this.
Weak.
He deserves a better best friend, a friend that is not me.
I’m too dirty now.
I’m sure Uncle Lucian and Aunt Esme would agree with me. They sent me a lot of gifts and notes but couldn’t visit me due to the rules.
I was glad for that too. Aunt Esme would have smoldered me with her love, and it would point out once again how much my own mother hates me.
“I’m not sure what you mean—”
The door bursts open, and my heart plummets as my godfather enters inside, his hard-as-granite face studying everything around him while his leather jacket billows lightly under the AC. “Who are you?”
Instead of answering her, he exchanges a long look with Dad, who nods at him after several seconds. They do that stuff a lot, communicating without words, as Aunt Esme calls it. I guess that’s why they are the best of friends. Santiago and I still can’t read minds, and we probably won’t have the chance to learn. “Let’s go, Doctor,” Dad says to her and pulls her by the elbow as she blinks several times, her mouth opening and closing. “They need to be alone for a while.”
She protests, but he gets her out quickly, shutting the door behind them while a familiar bitter taste fills me, and I grip the blanket once again.
No, no, no.
Not Uncle Lucian.
“Hi, ahijado.”
He puts a stack of new books on the bedside table and perches on the bed, his eyes trailing over me while I barely resist turning to the window, but I can’t ignore my godfather. “I also have this.” He takes out a card from his jeans pocket and places it on my lap. By the weird scribbles and red ink, I know it was written by Santiago. “He misses you very much and demands for me to bring him to you.” He cracks a smile that doesn’t reach his expressive eyes. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll bring him over.” I quickly shake my head. “Your godmother painted a special painting just for you. It will cost millions. It will be a great addition to your trust fund.” I say nothing, as their love makes everything even worse. The guilt grows by the second.
Why did Dad do this to me?
“Jacob said you’re not talking to anyone, including your therapist.” I shrug, casting my gaze down, and trace my finger over the tree design on the blanket. “I understand.”
Fury sparks through me, and I clench the blanket.
He understands nothing! They all keep saying they understand, but how could they…
“I know how you feel because I experienced what you did.” A gasp slips past my lips. “Many, many hideous things happened to me, and I survived them just like you did.” A beat passes. “They lasted for years. Different cages and monsters, but the outcome was all the same. My pain. Right here.” He taps on his heart. “For a long time, I had only one goal. To live and see them all burn.” I swallow hard at this because that’s the need consuming me too.
More than seeing my blood, I wish to see Peter’s and Alex’s so they’d know how it feels to be hopeless.
I’m afraid of such thoughts, I’m so small, but at the same time…I’m all grown up now.
My voice is raspy as I finally speak and joy lights up his dark eyes along with a softness he rarely displays to anyone sans his family. “I want to die, Padrino.” A heavy breath escapes me. “I want it more than anything.” I’m so focused on the design that I still when he touches my chin and tips it up.
The touch is barely there, but somehow, it calms down the nerves all over me from this confession.
A confession I wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone else.
My dad is my hero and always will be. I love him the most because I never doubted his love, but my godfather…he’s different.
A bond I can’t explain because I can say anything to him without worrying about his feelings or how it might affect him.
Santiago and Dad have the same kind of bond.
It’s special.
“There is something more you want than death, ahijado.” My heartbeat speeds up, and goose bumps pop on my skin. “It’s their suffering.”
Yes.
The idea of that makes the knife on the table less appealing. But it brings shame too as such thoughts are sinful.
Does it make me a monster? What if he thinks I’m a psycho now? What if…
“Florian.” I force myself to look at him again and see nothing but acceptance in him. “I punished everyone who hurt me. The thought of that gave me strength.”
I gape at him in shock because I’m not sure he should be telling me this. Still too wound up, I ask, “But doesn’t that make you a monster? Daddy would be terrified if he knew,” I finish on a whisper, already hurting from the disappointment once he finds out.
“Some evilness has to be destroyed so no one else would suffer the way we did.”
Flashes of what was done to me play in my mind. The idea of another boy or girl experiencing all these vile things sends me in despair. “I’m broken now,” I whisper. “Dad deserves better.”
“Jacob loves you the most. We all love you. You’re not broken. You’re ours. And no matter what you do, you will always be ours.”
I’m so confused and lost. Different emotions rush through me that seem too big for my age.
The future has more sense if it means I can grow up into a strong man like Uncle Lucian and punish all these men or maybe more.
As long as I think about their blood, mine is not appealing or even necessary. How would I destroy them if I’m dead?
It takes me a second to realize tears stream down my cheeks and drip on the blanket.
I haven’t cried in all this time. I cried and begged so much in that basement I had no tears left in me. Even when they told me about Frederick.
For the first time in almost two months, though, I feel an overwhelming sense of relief, and the pain and hurt stacking up inside me pours out, demanding an outlet.
I wrap my hand around Uncle Lucian, who grips it gently but firmly, giving me his presence and moves closer, hugging me as I cry my heart out to him. “They were awful. And it hurt. Everything they did hurt.” I whimper into his chest, soaking up his white T-shirt. “I begged and begged, and they continued to hurt me.” My sobs are so loud, my whole body shaking as I grip his hand, and he runs his splayed palm over me, soothing and saying nothing, just allowing me to let it all out. “Por favor no le digas a Santiago. él va a estar dolido.” I beg him not to tell Santiago about this.
He shouldn’t be burdened by this, and I don’t want to have this in the way between us. I need no reminders about that night because everyone will look at me differently, then.
I can’t have that.
“No lo hare. Te prometo que nunca se lo diré. Sera nuestro secreto.”
Exhaustion washes over me once he promises me he won’t do it, and that it will be our secret, and for the next couple of minutes, I let my godfather rock me in his arms as much as he can, considering all the bandages, finally pulling me away from the vacuum I’ve existed in for almost two months.
After a while, he leans back and smiles at me, although I see traces of something on his face that I can’t understand. He adjusts the pillow behind me so I’m more comfortable and gets up. “I’m going to call your godmother so she can come and visit. Is that okay with you?” I nod, happiness bursting up inside me at the prospect of seeing her. It shouldn’t be painful now. “Great.”
He opens the door, and I groan inwardly because I see Octavius standing behind it, pressing a backpack to his chest while he blinks several times.
The last thing I need right now is him spilling all the beans to Santiago.
Octavius belongs to the Reeds dynasty, and his father died before he was even born. His mom married his cousin as a result and Uncle Lucian acts as power of attorney over Octavius’s shares in the family business, keeping them safe until he turns eighteen.
So he invites him to a lot of functions and practically forced us to be friends with him. Octavius stays quiet most of the time and rarely voices an opinion, just staring at us when we do our usual fun stuff.
He disliked Frederick, though, and when my twin wanted to bond with him he refused, and it was the only time I saw him display emotions.
I should have expected to see him at some point. His mom is pregnant right now, and they have shares in this hospital as well.
“Hi, Uncle Lucian.”
“Hey, kiddo. How are you?” He picks him up and hugs him, making Octavius giggle. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Everything okay?”
“Yes. Antonio brought me here to check on Mama. She’s staying overnight, so I’m going to be here for a while.”
He has a whole family butler too who watches over him, but I don’t miss how a muscle twitches on Uncle Lucian’s cheek because he hates Octavius’s mother and his stepfather. According to Daddy, he has his reasons.
“Is that so? Good.” He places him back on the floor. “I have to go. Let me walk you to your mom’s room.”
He shakes his head and peeks behind his leg at me. “Can I stay with Florian? Mama is still busy, and Antonio is boring.”
My godfather looks over his shoulder at me, leaving the choice to me, and I say, “Okay.” It’s better to explain to Octavius that he can’t tell anyone anything than having him run his mouth off to Santiago. I think he likes him more than me.
“You’re hurt.” Octavius walks farther into the room as Uncle Lucian leaves. “Very badly.”
“Yeah. It’s a secret.”
He studies me for several seconds. “Santiago can’t know?”
“Nope. No one can. Pretend you haven’t seen me here, and if you say something—” I try to come up with something that would matter to him, but the problem is…I have no idea what he even likes besides hanging out with us in silence. “I’ll deny it and call you a liar!”
“I don’t lie. Ever.” He sits up on the couch and puts his backpack next to him, swinging his legs back and forth as he glares at me. “You’re mean, Florian. Why are you mean to me?”
What?
“I’m never mean to you.”
He frowns. “Santiago is always nice, but you’re mean, and you hog his attention a lot.” Huh? This conversation is so surreal but, at the same time, interesting compared to everything else I’ve experienced lately. “I think you’re jealous.”
“I’m not.”
“You are, but you shouldn’t worry. You’re his best friend in the whole wide world, and I’m just me.”
I’m not sure how I’m supposed to react to this, so I stay silent. Maybe we need to find a fourth boy in our group so we all can have a best friend, and no one feels left out.
I like Octavius, but he’s not as vitally important to me as Santiago.
I lean my head back on the pillow, and familiar voices start to laugh in my head, mocking in its nature as it whispers unwanted thoughts into my mind.
My body needs sleep, but I won’t be able to sleep with all this. Usually, Dad’s stories bore me to death, and I finally fall asleep or pretend to so he will stop, but what should I do now?
Palming my head, I shake from side to side, only to freeze when Octavius’s question pierces through the fog. “Are you having a nightmare?”
“No. An unwanted memory and I’m tired.”
“Oh. I’m going to read to you. I found a new book, and it’s awesome.” Since we all come from long-lasting dynasties, we started reading and all other stuff since a young age and frequently discuss books among each other. “It’s about a Trojan prince. Paris.”
“The one that caused a war?”
“Yeah. But he loved her, and he was ready to die for that love. It’s admirable.”
“Foolish and selfish too.”
“Yes.” He flips the book open and starts reading, and in a while, the hideous voices change to Octavius’s, and his interesting book lulls me to sleep.
He comes a few times in the following weeks to hang out with me. We don’t talk much, but he always reads to me.
And when I heal and come back home, finally squeezing the life out of Santiago and pretending nothing happened to me…he never says a single word to him.
Looking back on that day, I thank my godfather every single time.
Because he saw something my father would have probably missed.
My trauma and the consequences of it were so deep, no shrink would have helped me.
I would have been a statistic without his guidance. Either I would have killed myself or…murdered someone innocent because the voices and memories ate at my soul.
Channeling them into the future, though, gave me a purpose and a will to live.
I might have been damaged beyond repair, but I could use that damage for the greater good. Although the greater good doesn’t exist, right?
I murder rapists and all other pieces of shit, but I enjoy the process. I thrive in it, and this makes me a monster just the same.
There is no justification for my actions, but I’m alive.
And it counts for something.
Florian
The rock music blasts through the air as owls hoot in the distance, and the moonlight shines brightly with no cloud in sight.
Wrapping my hand around the whiskey bottle, I take a greedy gulp as I grab the nearby ax and throw it at the target several feet away, enjoying the blade hitting it right in the middle.
A loud howl echoes in the night, and I glance at Zeus. “Enjoying yourself, are you?” He huffs at me and howls again, making me wince because this is his favorite fucking thing to do during a full moon.
Good thing I bought this vast land a few years back and built my two-level glass house here, opening up on the magnificent garden filled with roses, orchids, and oak trees that create a sense of doom and beauty.
Two things that have the power to destroy us.
An iron fence surrounds the property, and several security guards surveil it. It’s my sanctuary from the outside world, and no one knows about it besides my best friends. Even my parents think I live in one of the penthouses in the skyscraper I own.
Impossible.
I could never permanently exist in a place with so many people around me, and I like my privacy and hunting grounds. Plus, Zeus has all the freedom to explore the forest and garden without anyone screaming or being an unfortunate casualty.
My beast is moody after all.
Picking up another ax, I throw it at the target moving forward, and it hits the middle again just as dark clouds gather, threatening to pour rain on us, but I welcome the frigid air on my bare skin. “I think she’ll do something stupid to hurt me, and I will not like it.” Zeus huffs again, glaring at me for interrupting his next howl, and then strolls toward me, snagging a bone from the nearby table, and falls on the ground, biting on it. “We both know one universal truth. When Cortezes are hurt, they retaliate.” He barks. “Why the fuck does she need to be so stubborn?” He pauses in the middle of taking another bite and cocks his head to the side. “Okay. I could have definitely handled it better.”
“Wow. You have some deep conversations with your wolf. Should I be jealous?” I see Octavius prowling through the grass, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt and getting dirt on his perfectly polished leather shoes and jeans. He scans me from head to toe. “And you’re wearing sweats while guzzling whiskey. Forget jealous. I think I should be concerned.”
Flipping him the finger after another greedy gulp, I grab the next ax and send it flying in the air, but this time around, it lands near the target, missing it. I scowl when Octavius laughs, and Zeus puffs air as if supporting his amusement. “What are you doing here?”
“After you so hastily left the club earlier, I figured something happened, so here I am.” My brow furrows because it makes zero sense to me, and he clearly must read it on my face, as he elaborates. Since when do we spy on each other? “Your head of security called and said you were in a weird mood tonight.”
You’d think Octavius pays my staff’s bills at the rate they tattletale on me to him, and for whatever reason, my best friend always comes to the rescue, even if I never tell him what’s going on.
I have my dark moments like all of us, but I prefer not to show them to anyone, including him.
The asshole doesn’t care, though, and just barges in to keep me company, so here we fucking are.
“I thought you’d be busy.” I turn off the music just as Zeus howls again, and Octavius rolls his eyes.
“Busy with what?” He grips the ax’s handle, flipping it up in the air, catching it, and then swiftly throwing it at the target. Of course it sticks right in the middle. “You know I’ll always make time for you.”
“Nice way of changing the subject. Busy with a certain woman desperate to find out her family secret. You know the one who even tried to blackmail us earlier? With her.” He stiffens at this and sends me a warning glance that’s so easy to read.
She’s off-limits, and that’s a new thing in itself because Octavius never pays attention to women, and I do mean never. He has sex once a year with a paid escort, and that’s about it. So him not only protecting her but also being the one to handle the problem?
Speaks volumes.
I find the whole thing deeply hilarious.
A serial killer and an ex-cop turned private investigator.
“Well, since we’re sharing about women here…” he starts, and it’s my turn to tense, the bottle pausing midway to my mouth while a grin shapes his lips. “What’s going on with you and Jimena? You know your best friend’s sister who he loves very much and will kick your fucking ass once he finds out the truth?”
“Touché,” I reply and put the bottle away as he continues to throw axes. I lean on the table. “She’s pregnant.”
Saying it out loud still feels surreal, and an odd warmth along with possessiveness rushes through my blood, wanting to shout from the rooftops that my woman is carrying my child, as chauvinistic as it might be.
I would have never tried to get her pregnant so soon. She has her whole life ahead of her, but how can I feel anything but joy at the prospect of holding my baby?
I groan inwardly just thinking about her getting all round with my baby, and how everyone would know she belongs to me.
That makes me a man who makes no commitment to anyone choose her and permanently attach myself to her.
Mine and only mine.
Octavius drops the ax and turns around to face me, shock flashing in his dark eyes quickly replaced with anger. “Is it yours?”
“What do you mean is it mine? Of course it’s mine.” I’m about to say some more because I won’t have him doubting my woman when he punches me right in the face, making me stumble and almost fall on the table. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Something Santiago can’t do for now. You had sex with her, Florian? Have you lost your fucking mind?” he bellows while I sit up, holding my nose as blood pours from it. The sting travels through me, not that I care.
We’ve done worse to each other.
“You knew about us.”
“No. I knew she kissed you, and you fell for her. I never thought you’d be so stupid to get her pregnant without a ring on her finger!”
This day just went from bad to worse, considering I’ve managed to piss off not only my pregnant woman but also my best friend, who apparently is okay with me lusting after Jimena but not acting on my urges.
Fuck it all, though. They all act however they want with their women, and I’m the only one who’s supposed to be on a leash?
It’s not my problem or my fault I got around more in the past when I was single.
“I can’t claim her now. Especially not now,” I remind him as he clenches and unclenches his fists, a myriad of emotions appearing on his face while he stays silent, and I understand. He has a younger sister too, and I’m putting him in a difficult position now. “Listen, once this gets out, let’s just pretend you didn’t know anything. It’s my mess, and I’m going to fix it.” He delivers another punch, this time to my gut, and I huff. “What was that for?” One more blow and I’m going to hit him myself. He gets just these two punches, and that’s about it.
“For suggesting I hide like a coward and not stand by you.” His tone grows harsh. “No matter how angry I’m with you, I’d never pick Santiago over you.” He crosses his arms. “That’s not how we work.”
No, it’s not, is it?
Once upon a time, we became the best of friends, and we stood with each other through everything. His hideous past and the son of a bitch stepfather who tortured him all the time, the murder, and everything in between.
Compared to Santiago and Remi, Octavius sees right through my bullshit and never walks away, no matter how much I act like a dick or am careless. He never asks questions about my past, but he’s there.
And sometimes just being there counts for everything.
Who would have thought that day in the hospital would be the beginning of our strong bond rather than one uncomfortable encounter.
Rubbing my busted lip, I grin at him through the sting. “Your punches are really something, my friend.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“Hunt the fucker. I found several more clues and some old accounts that lead to Switzerland. To pull off all this shit, he has to have money.”
He ponders my words for several beats and resumes throwing axes as he does so. “Even if Death is alive, he wouldn’t be the one executing the orders. It’s his son.”
“Yes. And somehow, I think his son’s vendetta runs deeper because he’s targeting me.” I’ve thought about this over and over again, coming up with only one conclusion.
Somehow, I crossed him, and he took offense personally, going against the status quo and retaliating.
“If we go by his psychological profile, he’s a psychopath who acted on his urges by sending all these messages but not really directly hitting anywhere. That speaks about the control psychos rarely have. Unless…”
“They get off imagining what would be the outcome.” I finish for him, wiping the blood from my nose with my T-shirt lying next to me. “His loyalty to the man who raised him must be bigger than his hatred for me. So he won’t act until he has a next heir in line.”
“He has him now, Florian.” Octavius throws the last ax and grabs his own whiskey bottle, flicking it open and taking several gulps. “Your baby will be the next in line since your brother can’t inherit anything.”
Rage fills me, consuming everything sane inside me and pushing out the madness at the idea of anyone hurting my child in any way.
My baby will not know what it is like to be in a basement at the mercy of vile men who know nothing about humanity.
I’ll die before I allow this to happen.
Zeus gets up, coming closer to me and growling a little, probably sensing my mood, and I pat him on the muzzle as he watches me and barely manage to relax enough to say something. “We need to protect them, Octavius, and I have to find him. I’m so close, I can I feel it, but for whatever reason, he manages to escape me. As if he knows something I’m too blind to see.”
“There is one perfect way to find him, but you won’t like it.”
“Fuck no,” I tell him, and he shrugs, continuing to sip his drink. “I won’t use my woman and unborn child as a decoy to trap him.”
“You might not have a choice otherwise. They are now what he wants. Considering who we’re dealing with, his mood swings will be very unpredictable. At least this way you have the chance to control the situation because he’s the one running the show right now.”
Leave it to Octavius to say the harsh truth out loud. That only adds to my anger.
Death has been playing with me for years, and I allowed it as I slowly destroyed his power, but this new psycho grates on my nerves, and I’m not even sure he has done anything himself.
Getting off on someone’s torture and displaying no empathy is different from murdering innocent people, and while I’ll kill him either way, it does affect his profile.
A psychopath who cannot personally commit a crime will always surround himself with cowards ready to do his dirty work for him.
And cowards tend to spill all their secrets once you hurt them, as they have no idea about loyalty. So if I access his accounts and block them, he’ll be powerless.
“Whatever you’re thinking, I’m in,” Octavius tells me just as we both hear a loud screech of tires and swing our heads to the right to see Remi’s black sports car park by the entrance of my house.
He gets out, his leather jacket swaying back while he marches toward me, a murderous expression etched on his features while his fists clench. “You fucking son of a bitch.”
Straightening up, I step forward, blocking Octavius from his view, and meet his rage head-on. “Remi, what a pleasure to see you.” My sarcastic remark is met with a punch straight to my jaw from him followed by the one in my gut, already bruised earlier by Octavius, but I clench my muscles, barely feeling the blow.
For years, I’ve hidden my strength from everyone and let them believe I’m weaker than them, but I’m about done receiving punches for one night.
I deliver my own hit to his ribs, and since he doesn’t expect it, he stumbles backward, and we breathe heavily, staring at one another while Zeus growls louder this time, getting on his haunches and zeroing his gaze in on Remi.
He never reacts when Octavius hurts me because somehow he accepted him as part of the pack, but Santiago and Remi have no such credit with him. Whenever they try anything, he sees them as a threat to me. “Zeus, down.” An annoyed growl escapes him, and huffing, he taps his paw hard on the grass and strolls to the forest, howling at the moon in the process.
“At least you have some honor left,” Remi says, removing his jacket and dropping it on the ground while Octavius guzzles more whiskey. “Tonight, I started to question it.”
Oh fuck. Another lecture. “I gather you know as well.”
“About you getting Jimena pregnant? Yes. Have you lost your damn mind?”
“Maybe I have.” He blinks in surprise at my reply. “Whatever I do with her, though, is none of your business.”
“None of my business?” he asks and lunges after me again, his blows coming one after another while I block them all and deliver mine. As a result, we end up on the ground, blindly punching each other. “You asshole. She’s like a sister to me!”
“You’re not her brother!” I shout in his face, kicking his knee, and he hisses, so I use the advantage and push him away, hitting him in the ribs. “So sincerely fuck you, Remi.”
“Likewise, Florian.” He twists his fingers and digs them right into my gallbladder, making me bend in two and huff in pain. “Like-fucking-wise.”
We continue to beat the shit out of each other, finally releasing the pent-up frustration we’ve felt for years toward each other but never acted on because despite all the bullshit, we’re the best of friends.
“Enough with this shit.” Octavius separates us, grabbing Remi by the shoulders and lifting him up, so he has no choice but to stand as I sit up, wiping away the blood, and he does the same. We both glare at one another, our chests rising and falling. “Not that this is not entertaining, or long overdue if you ask me… We can’t do that, okay? We have more important problems to focus on than you two measuring whose dick is bigger.”
Remi frees himself from his hold, and I get up, my whole body aching as Remi’s viciousness knows no bounds. He can never control himself when it comes to beating someone’s ass. “Figures you’ll be protecting him. As you always do.”
“Oh, if that isn’t your favorite familiar tune. Santiago came back years ago, so can you stop acting like an outsider who always gets the short end of the stick. We never singled you out, and this one”—I motion to my best friend with my chin—“covers your ass every single time you go to New York.”
In our group of four, we have two closest bonds. Santiago and Remi and Octavius and I.
Within these bonds, though, we have a second favorite.
Santiago’s is mine, and I’m his. Remi’s Octavius, and he’s his.
So this leaves Santiago and Octavius and Remi and I with the weakest bonds among us four. Although our weakest bond is the kind of friendship many wish for.
We don’t exist without our unity, though. We’re like a puzzle, where we make no sense unless all the pieces are put together.
“My point is that Octavius is always on your side, but you screwed up, Florian. Big time.” Remi wipes his bleeding lip with his jacket’s collar. “I thought her unrequited love would stay just that, so imagine my surprise when I find out she’s pregnant with your kid.”
“If it helps, I was surprised too.”
Judging by his tone, I guess my humor missed the mark. “It doesn’t. You broke the code, Florian. You never touch your best friend’s little sister.”
“Is there such a rule? Really?” Octavius sets his bottle down and grabs a pack of chips, opening them up. “I had no idea, but as a brother, I don’t get it.” Remi and I share a long stare because Octavius has a tendency to have these weird-ass wisdoms he likes to share, so we turn to face him, letting him elaborate. “If I can’t trust my best friends to do right by the women they love…why would I be friends with them?” He shrugs. “When my sister picked her professor, I approved after testing him, of course.”
We just stare at him in silence, and Remi exhales a heavy breath, clearly fed up. “Okay, let’s focus here, please,” he snaps at Octavius and jabs a finger in my chest. “Being one of his friends is one thing. But you have a reputation, Florian. You fucked your way through Chicago.”
“I haven’t touched another woman since kissing Jimena almost years ago. No one exists for me but her. I have a past, but I won’t apologize for it.”
Shock flickers in his dark eyes, and he studies me for several seconds before muttering, “Fuck.” He wraps his hand around the third bottle, opening it and drinking its contents in several gulps. “You love her.” I nod. “You do understand it looks bad, right? You’ve known her since she was a baby. When this gets out, everyone will say you groomed her. Among other shitty things.” A beat passes. “After all, we all raised her as our little sister and—”
“I was never raising her.” Coldness and irritation lace my tone. “Nor did I ever consider her my little sister. I loved her because we were part of the same family, and I never looked at her differently until she kissed me. Groomed her? She moved to Spain and had all the opportunities in the world to find someone else. We haven’t seen each other that much through the years. You spent more time with her than I ever did. So you can say whatever the fuck you want about me and all this. But don’t ever say I treated her like a little sister and fell for her. It’s insulting, offensive, and disgusting for both of us. The only woman I treated as my little sister was Estella.”
I wouldn’t change anything about my Jimena because I was there to provide support for her, but a part of me hates the fact that we will have to defend our love and relationship from vile assumptions our whole life.
“Damn,” Remi whispers, sneaking a hand into Octavius’s chip bag to snag one. “Look at the protector in him coming out. I thought he felt like this only about you.”
“Yeah, something tells me he’ll be even worse with Jimena.”
“Keep the same energy for Uncle Lucian and Santiago because once they find out, they will kill you.” Remi munches on the chips, wincing, so his jaw must hurt him. Good because mine throbs like hell. “Or they will torture you, kill you, resurrect you, and kill you again. All their rage might produce some magic powers.” They both bark a laugh. “Either way, it will be tragic. Romeo and Juliet didn’t work out for a reason.”
“Our families don’t hate each other,” I remind him, glad he has his humorous self back and take out my own chips. My staff always leaves snacks lying around, and I’m finally putting them to good use.
“True. Hmm…” He taps on his chin. “Or she’s more like Helen of Troy.”
“Did you just compare me to Paris?” My least favorite character in the whole of the Iliad, or at least he was until I understood his motives.
Sometimes no matter how much destruction your love will cause, you can’t stay away and move on. You just accept all the consequences.
“He did kill Achilles,” he reminds me, and I grit my teeth as Achilles was always Santiago’s favorite. “Tell him now, Florian, before…”
“Before you tell him?”
His eyes narrow and he grips the bottle tighter, making it crack a little. Tension radiates between us, and even Zeus comes back, his ears standing up. “Contrary to what you believe, Florian, I do care about you. That’s why I’m here. If you two love each other and have a baby on the way, then go public with the relationship and give her the protection of your name.” He sighs. “It won’t save you from Santiago’s rage, but at least it will show them you’re serious.”
“My name doesn’t protect her. It endangers her.” They both still at the seriousness of my tone. “Until I catch him, this stays between us.”
“You have to be kidding me. She’s pregnant. How long do you think you guys will be able to hide it?” Remi asks in disbelief, pressing the bottle to his hip. “Not to mention, the longer you stall, the more unforgivable your behavior becomes in Santiago’s eyes.”
“My woman and child come first. Before anyone and anything, and that includes all of you.” I glance at Octavius. “No offense.”
“None taken.” He scrunches the empty chips packet. “We will help you catch the fucker, but meanwhile, we’ll have to do something we’ve never done.” A beat passes. “Lie to Santiago.”
“He won’t forgive us,” Remi says grimly, taking another swig from his bottle. “He’ll hate us, and he’s my best friend. He comes before you, Florian.”
I’d never ask Remi to be on our side. I would have preferred for him not to know anything. “You don’t have to pick my side. You can stay neutral and pretend you didn’t know.”
His hollow laughter echoes in the night, followed by thunder as fury shines in his gaze, and for a second, I think he’s going to punch me again, but he just hits the table with the bottle, the small glass pieces falling all around him. “There is no staying neutral in this conflict. It’s as personal for everyone as it can get.” He takes a deep breath. “I won’t say anything, but not for you. For her. My loyalty is to the Cortez family, and Jimena has a right to decide on her own when she wants to announce her pregnancy.”
“It’s settled, then,” Octavius concludes as rain pours on us and the whistling wind skirts around us, coldness nipping at our skin.
We don’t go inside, though, or try to hide from it.
No, we let it soak us.
Because we’ve just made a decision that will change everything.
We betrayed one of our own.
Eventually, he will forgive them because he’ll find excuses to justify their actions.
He’ll never forgive me, though.
But that’s a price I’m willing to pay as long as it ensures the safety of my family.
The memory from a long time ago flashes in my head, back when there was no dark four, and it was just Santiago and me.
“Florian, we need to pinkie swear,” Santiago says, jumping up and down until he lands on the bed with a loud huff as I color my book and frown at him. “So we can stay friends forever.”
“Pinkie swear what?”
“To never lie to each other. We can do anything but lie. Lies destroy lives, or that’s what Mama says.”
Shrugging, I extend my pinkie to him, and he links it with his, grinning. “I promise to you, Florian, that no matter what happens, I will always be honest and true to you.”
Ever since he started reading Greek mythology, Santiago has always liked to turn everything poetic.
“I promise to you, Santiago, that no matter what happens, I will always be honest and true to you.”
Shortly after, we formed bonds with Remi and Octavius, but the promise we made as six-year-olds lingered between us, always serving as a reminder that this whole brotherhood was built on the foundation of our friendship.
Lo siento, amigo.
I can no longer keep my promise.
Jimena
I swallow hard, staring at the file in front of me as the frigid wind sweeps over me, billowing my hair backward while the chatter in the restaurant located on the outskirts of the city fades away, leaving me to digest my shock as everything in me grows numb.
Shifting my focus on the pictures lying next to it, I pick them up once again and look through them, each image more hideous than the previous one.
Men viciously chopping and killing people in their dungeons, their faces clear and visible to the camera while their blood-soaked hands leave zero doubts they’re the ones who inflicted all his crimes.
“I can already imagine the headlines in the newspapers and social media. The Four Dark Horsemen turned out to be murderers.” I raise my eyes to Maxwell who sits opposite me wearing a gray suit, and a smile curves his lips while his eyes glisten in amusement. “Their trials will be magnificent to witness, don’t you think?” He picks up his coffee cup and takes a small sip. “They’ll be sentenced for life or even on death row.” He hisses through his teeth. “Everyone will be so devastated.”
“What do you want?” This question, when it comes to him, seems to be on repeat since his last cryptic message with one photo attached that made me agree to meet with him.
“I’ll forget about all this if you agree to marry me.” I open my mouth, but he wiggles his finger, and I grit my teeth, hating his audacity. “Nuh-uh, darling. Wait for me to finish. I want for the whole thing to be a public affair.” I frown at this, and he elaborates. “Everyone will know about this, and we’ll give an interview to the press if we have to. And in all those photos, you should try your best to pretend to be happy.” He leans back in his chair, winking at me. “I’m not hard on the eyes, after all.”
“I’m not interested in you in any way.” My voice is harsher than steel, and his brow lifts. Did he expect me to jump for joy at the proposition? “What else?” With men like Maxwell, it’s never just one thing.
“Ah, I love how smart you are. No one can know about this deal, Florian included.”
“I’m not going to lie to my family and pretend I’m in love with you. No one will believe me.”
He shrugs. “There is no need for that, but you have to act as if you like me at least. Besides, it will come in handy once you won’t be able to hide your pregnancy.”
On instinct, I place my palm on my belly and rub it a little. “No. My baby is off-limits. You will not claim my child as yours. Is that clear?”
“How do you expect us to hide it?”
“I don’t care.” There is no way in hell I’ll let anyone but Florian take responsibility for this baby. I might be furious with him right now, and although I understand his motives, my heart soars just thinking about him loving me… I’m still mad at him for acting like a dick and picking my brother once freaking again.
As selfish as it sounds, I deserve to come first, and I won’t be second best to my brother in my romantic relationship.
If we have that in the future, considering Maxwell’s threat and Death looming above us.
Why can’t everyone just leave us alone and let us enjoy this time together?
He chuckles and finishes his coffee, tearing a napkin and wiping his mouth. “Darling, you are not in a position to argue with me.”
Crossing my arms, I give him one of my brightest smiles, and confusion crosses his face. He clearly expected me to beg, but fuck him. “On the contrary, I think I am. For whatever reason, you need me. You won’t share the reason, so that’s why you went for shock value.” I point at the photos with my chin. “Blackmailing me as a whole is not a good idea.”
“Darling, if by that you mean you’re going to tell them about this, then I have news for you. If something happens to me, all the photos and videos will become public knowledge.”
Oh, I trust him on that.
“No. I just mean blackmail entails me dancing to your tune, and I won’t do that. I’ll marry you and pretend everything is right.” He frowns now, and I almost laugh. “As long as we have a contract in place and you give me all the footage you have.”
“That’s my only guarantee for you to behave.”
“I’m sure you can come up with something to make it happen. Also, there will be an ironclad prenup. You won’t get a dime of my money or any properties in my name.” I have wealth to last me several lifetimes, and I won’t be sharing a thing with this asshole. “I’m not your stepmother, so your father’s method to live off his wife’s fortune won’t work here.”
A muscle twitches in his cheek, and his fist clenches while his eyes darken. Otherwise, he shows no emotions, and his voice stays even, but I know I struck a nerve. “I’m not my father, and I don’t want your money. Not all of us are lucky enough to be born in a happy family, darling.”
For a second, I wonder what his real motive is here.
If he really hated the dark four, he would have gone to the police because the idea of hurting them and making them pay for ignoring his ass all these years would have been too tempting to resist.
Instead, he’s using me, which would force all their attention on him.
Is this his end goal? Acceptance by the Price dynasty?
Or maybe I’m just delusional, and he’s a sadistic asshole who gets off on my suffering.
“Then we have a deal.”
He pushes his chair back and gets up, grabbing his shades and putting them on. I notice several women sending appreciative glances his way and roll my eyes.
He reminds me of a peacock who’s always showing off. “We’ll stay in touch once all the contracts are ready, darling. And then we will start our game.” He gathers all the photos and picks them up along with the file. “Lunch is on me.” Before I can say some sarcastic remark, he dashes off to the car waiting for him.
Just as he’s out of sight, I fish out my phone from my purse and dial a number I’d never thought I’d dial, but right now, I have no choice.
I can’t go to my brother or Florian because they’d lose their shit, and Maxwell never lies, unlike his father. He will find a way to send them to prison from the grave.
Still, there is no way in hell I’m going through with this wedding. Playing along to stall time? Sure, but nothing else.
The man on the other line picks up on the second ring, his deep voice filling my ears. “Jimena. What a surprise.”
“Arson. I need your help.”
If I can’t go to the dark four, I’ll go to the next best thing.
Dark Protégés.