Chapter 21
“Hatred is a tragic emotion.
Because it always hides pain.
And as such it’s incurable.”
Jimena
Jimena
A groan slips past my lips as the piercing pain piercing my scalp registers in my brain, and my eyes snap open, only to close again when any movement brings more pain.
Someone clicks his tongue and sighs heavily, the sound so innocent yet it sends fear through my entire system and makes me sit straight. “Ah, I expected a little more endurance from you. I guess that particular character trait solely belongs to the men in your family.” Pushing through the pain and peeling my eyes open once again, I gasp in shock at the sight in front of me as all memories come crashing back to me.
Specifically who I’d seen right before I was hit so hard in the back of my head that I lost consciousness.
The blond man cocks his head to the side, and a wide grin shapes his mouth contrasting with the coldness in his eyes that can probably freeze hell over. “Hi, darling. I think I need to introduce myself.”
I swallow past the dryness in my throat, scoot back when he steps forward, and only then do I study the environment around me.
We are in a dark cave with the humidity rising above us and water drips from the stones. The waterfall hums in the distance, indicating that he brought me to the farther end of the island. Price members rarely come to this end of the island because it has a lot of wild animals, and they prefer to preserve nature rather than harm it.
One of the reasons they built their house near the shore.
Several small lamps and tables are spread over the perimeter, holding knives, guns, and other instruments that promise nothing good. I notice red drawings all over the stones that look a lot like blood.
Everything inside me screams to find a way and run away from him, but he seems to be blocking the only exit. My soaked dress creates weird, uncomfortable sensations in my lower back and abdomen that make even sitting hard. I need a minute to form a plan to face this madman, but he can’t see my weakness. Serial killers lose interest the minute you fulfill their fantasies. Raising my chin high, I reply, “Frederick.”
Surprise flickers in his green eyes while his grin widens, and it’s so disgusting I resist gagging. “Smart and beautiful. I understand why my twin fell for you. Or maybe we just look so similar, it was hard to miss even in your dreadful state.” My heart plummets thinking how they look alike but, at the same time, have absolutely nothing in common.
My man is a handsome monster, while this one is a vicious demon. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s the most logical conclusion.”
He lifts his brow. “Logical? Everyone thought I was dead.” A beat passes while the whistling wind from outside washes over, and a loud thunder rocks the sky, indicating the storm that Florian warned me about earlier. “In fact, most people would assume they’re hallucinating. Or mistake me for my brother.” His nose twitches in distaste. “Although we never had much in common, we unfortunately share a face to some degree.”
“Besides the signature traits of the Price men, you look nothing alike. In fact, I’d say you could be mistaken for Maxwell’s brother rather than Florian’s fraternal twin.” I don’t even stop to think about how bizarre this whole conversation is.
His adoptive father faked his death, and instead of hating him for it, this psycho grew up continuing the legacy and intending to hurt his birth family, who did nothing but love him.
Santiago once said that true insanity is horrific and chilling, and once you encounter it, you should never question it or try to find the root of the problem.
Because only vile darkness exists in there, and that specific darkness?
It feeds only on misery and blood, followed with by unexplainable pain.
Getting into the why of his behavior is the least of my worries.
His sadistic laughter echoes through the cave. Another stabbing pain hits me, and my brow furrows. What’s going on?
I shift a little, pressing my back to the wall behind me, and it gives me temporary relief while the sensations continue, although the intensity lessens. “Well, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to look like my brother, would it?” I still at this and blink in surprise, not sure what he means by this. “Did you know our mother had an affair with Bellamy Price?” I nod because it’s common knowledge that no one has tried to hide. Uncle Jacob couldn’t care less if he tried about his ex-wife and laughed for days when he learned she joined a nunnery. “Interesting fact, wouldn’t you say?”
My bare toes curl into the cold ground, and I hiss when another stabbing pain zips through me. Did he beat me up or something?
I place my hand on my bump, running my fingers over it and hoping my baby isn’t stressing much inside me. “It’s more sad than it is interesting.”
He shrugs, walking toward the table and trailing his finger over the blades. “The marriage was nothing but a financial merger between the two houses. My mother hated Jacob and loved Bellamy, but Bellamy didn’t have the money my maternal grandfather wanted. Arguably, she owed him no loyalty.” I stay silent, too stunned with all this to say a thing because, what? Who cares about their marriage or his mother’s affair? But maybe stalling is the best option in the current situation.
Florian will find us, I know it. I just have to hold on until then.
“She got pregnant six weeks after her marriage.” He picks up a smaller blade, the silver glistening, and he sucks a breath through his teeth. “My mother assumed Bellamy was the father and even gloated about it to Jacob. Apparently, she and Jacob only had sex once. Can you imagine that? He really despised her.”
“I don’t understand.” Is he implying that…
“She thought the truth would make him divorce her, but Jacob Price is a cruel man. He accepted the kids but made her life hell.” Fury wraps around his tone, and I’m still processing this information.
Something is not adding up. “That makes no sense. Your mother hates Florian, and she loved you.”
He snaps his fingers as he comes back to stand in front of me, swaying the knife from side to side. Another rippling sensation washes over me. I bite on my lower lip to keep myself from groaning in pain. I’ve never felt so uncomfortable in my life. “Have you heard about heteropaternal superfecundation?”
Is he kidding me right now?
“Yes. In short, it’s when a woman gets pregnant with two babies, and they have different dads. One egg is fertilized earlier than the other by a few weeks.”
Oh God. Does this mean what I think it means? These cases are so rare, and what are the freaking odds?
“I’m older than Florian, but I was born a few weeks premature. You see, after getting pregnant, my mother went to a doctor who told her about her condition. Instantly, she knew. I’m Bellamy’s son, and Florian is Jacob’s.”
I pinch my hand, shaking my head and hoping like hell I’m in some kind of a nightmare right now because this cannot be my reality.
It’s fucked up and crazy to the point of me questioning everything. “Does Uncle Jacob know?”
“Of course. He never treated us differently, though. He’s weak, just like Florian.” He smirks. “They have a heart, and those who have hearts usually end up hurt in the most brutal way.”
“Is this why you’re doing all this? You hate them for not being a true Price?” I’m purposely using such words to see at least an ounce of emotion on his face. Otherwise, I’m dealing with a psychopath.
And with them, life might end at any second, as they have no patience or patterns.
“I’m a Price,” he replies in this detached tone that makes my stomach plummet. “Atlas, Jacob, Florian, and Kian just think they are better than Bellamy and Maxwell because they managed to keep their empire and prosper. And everyone who thinks they are better than someone else needs to learn a lesson.”
“They never acted this way. Bellamy betrayed his cousin, and Maxwell just became collateral damage. Apples usually don’t fall far from the tree.” I give him a once-over and lift my chin. “You prove that fact. They loved you, and what did you do? Grew up to be a serial killer who hunts them.”
Some psychologists can excuse his behavior by arguing that he was kidnapped at a young age, so it affected him and how he views his birth family. I believe that the man who raised him should be blamed for his turning into a murderer who harasses the Price dynasty and feeds on their misery, but I disagree.
The Four Dark Horsemen went through hell and back in their childhood, and none of them grew up to be psychos. To be a vicious demon is a choice, and no one can convince me otherwise.
“I always found his pain fascinating,” Frederick replies as if he didn’t listen to a word I said, while he presses his fingertip to the blade and draws blood. “Seeing Florian crushed did something to my insides in a way nothing could top it. Whenever he fell, I smiled. Whenever our mother hurt him, I experienced joy, and whenever I heard him cry in bed…I just couldn’t help laughing under the covers.” Frederick must have had signs of psychopathy as a child that no one diagnosed.
Shivers travel down my spine as another stabbing sensation sweeps over me, and my fingers curl on my lap, making me frown. Why didn’t he tie me up in any way? Is he so sure about himself that he doesn’t even expect me to run?
“And then they kidnapped us. I just wanted to see him suffer and for someone to finally tear his flesh so the blood would flow.” He hisses. “What a glorious sight it would have been. Instead, they took me away to another cell where Death planned to kill me.” A displeased huff slips past his lips as he drags the knife over his chin, leaving a few cuts on already bruised flesh. Looking at him now shows all the various scars on his face and neck. “I could hear them raping and torturing Florian, and it brought me joy here.” He places his splayed palm on his heart. “So much joy. The best music to my ears is someone’s suffering. It shows their weakness as humans.”
My stomach twists while my heart bleeds thinking about Florian, but I control the tears that threaten to spill out as I won’t give him that kind of satisfaction. “Maybe it’s news to you, but you’re human too.”
He looks at me again and rolls his eyes. “I’m superior to anyone else. And Death saw something in me that day, so he kept me as his. Because he had a legacy to uphold.”
“To terrorize the Price family?”
“Terrorizing the Price family was a personal vendetta. Our great-grandfather slept with Death’s grandmother and then disappeared, leaving her alone to face the scrutiny. She had to marry a wife beater later on, and Death couldn’t stand her pain, blaming only one person. The Price patriarch.” That would explain why this started with Grandpa Atlas and his brother. Their father was the one who caused the unstoppable chain of events with his actions. “I had little interest in that, but everything else? The child trafficking rings, the women he stole so he could have his pimping businesses, and the men he gathered just to torture them and get good money for it all? How could I not admire it?” The bile rises in my throat again. How far gone do you need to be to admire this? “Plus, he had all the money in the world. Being his son was a dream come true, even if his preaching and nagging got on my nerves.” He frowns. “He had his annoying moments, and that’s why I finally had to cut his throat off. Couldn’t listen to that bullshit no more.”
I shift a little and wince as the stabbing pain intensifies and starts coming in irregular waves. “And that’s when you decided to form your own plan?”
“I went on a killing spree, and while it sustained some of my desires, I still craved to see Florian’s downfall. Because he acted as if he was better than me by becoming this monster who only murders the bad people and hunts down the likes of us.” He comes closer, the blade swaying more rapidly, and my heartbeat becomes so fast and loud I can feel it in my throat. “The Four Dark Horsemen believe they are the superior kind when we are all the same. People who get joy from killing others.” His manic laughter mixes with the thunder booming, sounding even more sinister. “Why does it matter who’s the victim if the outcome is all the same?”
For a psychopath such as Frederick, victims are just toys with no life history, personality, or soul. He doesn’t care about anything but his own wants and needs, which makes him incapable to see the difference between himself and the dark four or their New York friends.
The men in my family kill to protect those who cannot be protected otherwise or stop the madmen who think they’re invincible. Their darkness serves as a shield to those who have no voice or hope left.
Frederick’s darkness destroys and terrorizes.
They are not the same because darkness even has gray in it.
“Maybe you’re just jealous that Florian has everything. Status, friends, family, and you don’t.” I gauge his reaction, and he gives me none, which means he doesn’t care about any of those things. “So you finally couldn’t hold back?”
“I wanted to kill them all, truth be told, but then my cameras caught a kiss.” He squeezes the blade so hard, it cuts his hand. Blood drips on his leather shoes, and he lifts his hand to his mouth, licking it away. “And I knew it was just a matter of time. You’re my perfect weapon.” He drags the blade to his artery, playing with the tip, and for a second, I wonder if he plans to kill himself too. “They all love you, Jacob included. You’re connected to them all, and you’re carrying their heir. I can even fulfill my promise to Death now.”
“He’ll find me. Florian will find me and kill you.” I’m not sure how much time has passed since my kidnapping because of the weather change, but Florian will find me on time. And my brother as well.
They will never fail me.
“I’m counting on it, sweetheart. That’s the whole point of this show.” My brow furrows, only for me to cry out when extreme pain rushes through me, tingling my spine, and then I feel wetness in my underwear. Like I’m peeing without actually doing it. “I hope they will get here for the baby’s birth. The medication to induce labor has already kicked in, it seems.”
“No,” I whisper, placing my hands on my stomach. “No.” It’s too soon. I’m barely seven months along. Giving birth in such conditions would risk my baby’s life. “You’re a monster.”
“I know. Isn’t that great?” Another burst of maniac laughter. “I can’t wait, actually. I’d like to cut it out from you so I can stab it myself.”
My contractions intensify while all my maternal instincts rise up, pushing any other thoughts away besides protecting my baby from this psychopath.
I’ll do anything.
“Besides, I want to watch you bleed. It will be a long and painful process but so worth it for me. There is no world in which Florian’s son lives. I won’t allow for this to happen.” He cups my cheek, smearing me in his blood, and I slap it away. “My apologies, Jimena. It’s nothing personal. Any last wishes before I proceed?” He shakes the blade. “I picked my favorite one to do the honors, so you should be flattered.”
“Listen to me well, Jimena. If you ever get yourself in an impossible situation, remember one rule. Survive no matter what, and use all your strength. Bad people have no mercy, and only a cunning mind can deceive them. “
“But what if the man is scary, Daddy?”
“Then you use his weapons against him.”
“And how do I do that?”
“I’ll teach you. But you must promise me. No matter what, if the situation calls for it, you’ll do what’s necessary to survive.”
“Can I touch it?” I whisper, and he cocks his brow. “The blade. I’d like to feel the weapon that will kill my baby.” Excitement flashes in his gaze while I swallow back the bile rising from even uttering something like this, but like my dad said.
Whatever it takes.
“Ah, there is a darkness in you.”
“Yes.”
He extends his hand, leaving his palm splayed open, and despite the disgust, I trace my fingers over the bloody knife, noticing its sharp edges that remind me of a butchers knife. “It’s beautiful. Will it make your job easier?”
“Oh yes. It requires little pressure from me, and you have a perfect cut. I won’t be gentle with you, so I’ll probably injure your baby in the process and finish the job once it’s out. I want to stare into his eyes and whisper to him that his father failed him.”
“What a plan you have.” Hurt penetrates my body and makes breathing difficult, but I gather all my strength and glance at the cave’s opening.
I can barely see the outside from the pouring rain. “Mother Nature cries right along with you, darling,” he murmurs, and I look back at him. “It’s a beautiful evening to lose a life.”
“Right.” I cover the blade with my hand, and he grins at me. “I have only one thing left to say to you.”
He sighs in exasperation. “No begging or pleading. It’ll only bore and annoy me. I won’t change my mind.”
“I’m Lucian Cortez’s daughter. I would not beg a monster.” I stretch a wide smile on my face, and confusion settles on his features, transforming into anger when I spit at him, “Go to hell, Frederick.”
I grab the blade from him and stab his side. His cry echoes through the space as I kick him away, and he lands on his back while I use this opportunity to get up and dart toward the opening, ignoring my body whimpering in pain and urging me to lie down.
Instead, I run, and instantly, the rain soaks me as I rush through the forest, barely seeing anything but silhouettes, needing to get away as far as possible so the psychopath won’t catch me.
Thick air sticks in my lungs. My legs and back are killing me with how much the crushing and agonizing sensations spread through me, but I refuse to succumb to them.
As long as I run, my baby will have a chance.
Thunder booms louder, the wind whooshes all around me and sways me to the side while the rain pours so rapidly it’s hard to take deep breaths.
“You little bitch!” Frederick roars into the night, behind me, still too close. I’m probably not running as fast as I could have under different circumstances. “Fucking bitch.”
I dart to the side, biting hard on my lip and tasting blood on my tongue as I still my whimper of pain when I fall to my knees in the mud. Getting up on shaky legs, I race forward again, all the while he continues to bellow after me.
However, the stabbing pain returns, and this time, it’s so strong, I freeze and cover my mouth as tears stream down my cheeks. I lean against a nearby tree, resting my back against it, not knowing what to do now.
I can run just for so long before the baby comes, and then he will have no chance.
“Come out now, Jimena, and I might spare you a little. I won’t cut anything off but your baby. You fucking bitch,” he rages, and I squeeze my free fist, urging myself to move somewhere.
I try to take a step when another sensation pierces my back, and the barely audible cry that emerges from my throat must be loud enough for Frederick to locate me. “Got you.”
“Move, Jimena. Move,” I whisper while crying. “You have to move.” But I can’t. I just can’t. I want to lie down because my muscles refuse to do anything else. I close my eyes and open them when someone grabs me by the shoulders. “No,” I whisper but exhale when I see Florian. “You’re here.” He kisses me hard on the mouth, a kiss that has nothing to do with passion and everything with relief. “He induced my labor, Florian.”
“You stay here, do you hear me?” He removes his dark four ring and slips it on my finger, pressing on the diamond. “Right here, Jimena.”
“The baby, Florian. The baby is coming.” That’s all I can think about, but he just kisses me again and darts off, leaving me alone as another contraction hits. I slide down the tree and pull my legs apart, breathing heavily while everything fades away.
I can’t focus on anything but the pain consuming me whole, and my fear. I seem to sit like this forever, counting the contractions and speaking to the baby. “Please, little one. Not now. Hold on.” I know it’s useless because the baby is coming.
He’s coming, and I can’t do anything to protect him.
“Jimena!”
My brother’s voice awakens the little hope I still had burning in my heart. “Santiago!” I scream back.
“There. Move to the right. The signal points that way,” Octavius says, and that’s when my eyes fall on the ring. Of course. They have trackers in them to find each other. “Just a few steps and…” They all emerge from the darkness, their faces barely visible through the rain, but I’d recognize them anywhere.
“Santiago.”
“Estoy aquí, princesa.” He falls on his knees next to me, grabbing my hand and patting my face. “I’m here.”
“The baby is coming,” I address Octavius, “please do something.” He has a medical degree, so he should know what to do. “Florian ran away after Fredrick. There.” I point to the side, and Remi nods, darting after him.
“I’m going to check now.” Octavius gets between my legs and hikes up my dress, still mostly covering me, but he must have a good view of what’s going on. “Fuck.”
Santiago asks, “What is it?”
“I can see the baby’s head. Do you feel the need to push?”
“Yes. But I wont do it.” There is no way I’m going to do it!
“You have to now. The longer you stall, the worse it is for the baby.”
“No!” I squeeze Santiago’s hand tighter when another contraction hits me. “He won’t survive, Santiago. He’s too small. Do something!” I yell in his face.
He shares a long look with Octavius, and then he gently cups my cheek, rubbing my chin. “The baby is coming, Jimena.” I twist my head, and more tears escape as I whimper. “You need to push now. Okay?”
“If I push, he’ll come faster. He’ll die faster.”
“He’s already struggling inside. Give your baby his best chance now. You have to be brave.” He sits next to me, throwing his arm over my shoulders, and then orders, “Squeeze my hand hard and scream as loud as you want, but you have to push.”
And I do.