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Well, surprise, surprise, we are fucking not and actually encountered way more hideous things than he might think.
Not to mention, I feel remorse for only one thing in this moment. That it wasn’t me who ended the fucker.
“What are we gonna do now?” I ask calmly, patting Octavius’s back, who now sits on the floor and hugs his knees to his chest, rocking back and forth, still in a trance. He probably doesn't even comprehend what he’s done.
Santiago gets up, rolling his shoulders back while focusing his attention on me, clearly gouging my reaction, but getting nothing besides boredom. My main concern is Octavius, so the body on the bed earns only a snarl and a muttered, “Rot in hell, fucker.”
Santiago just stares at us all, and I wonder if he regrets pushing us away now. Did he expect us to burst into hysterics? As someone who soaked in darkness a long time ago, I recognize my kind, and we are all dirty in some way.
In his quest to save us all from his demons, he failed to see that we’d acquired some of our own.
“He turned eighteen last month. If we call the cops, they’ll put him behind bars,” he finally says.
“He can plead self-defense.” Remi gets up, hissing a little when he moves his arm. “We can serve as witnesses.”
I shake my head. “This won’t count as self-defense. He was holding a fucking knife and stabbed him many times. He doesn't have any injuries.” I lift Octavius’s shirt, and while his back can rival Santiago’s in the scars department, there are no fresh wounds on his skin. At least the fucker was scared enough by my father to stop hurting him physically. “Proving self-defense will be almost impossible.”
“He will still get years behind bars. So either way, he’s gonna end up in prison.” Santiago supports my point. “Even years of abuse and a psychiatrist claiming he wasn't in his right mind won’t save him.”
“Fuck!” Remi exclaims, stepping closer to Octavius.
He still rocks on the spot, chanting, “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” over and over again, his bare feet tapping the floor and only smearing more blood on his skin.
My heart breaks because my best friend never deserved the shitty hand fate has dealt him. “If we don't call the cops right away, our asses will be on the line too,” Santiago addresses the elephant in the room. “The longer we stall, the guiltier we become.”
I hate his detached tone as if we’re discussing the weather and not Octavius’s freedom, but there is truth to his words. My father finished law school, so he drilled into me from an early age to study all the laws of the country and know how to protect myself if the need arises.
I pull at my hair, standing up too and pacing back and forth. “They have security cameras. That might be good evidence.” Although we need to question Octavius first to make sure what’s on there actually helps him and doesn’t get us all in more trouble.
“And how do you plan to get them? Doesn’t Antonio oversee this shit? I hardly doubt—”
A harsh clattering sound echoes in the space, interrupting Remi as glass shatters into tiny little pieces around us, and all our heads swing to the doorway where the man in question stands with a tray lying by his feet.
Ah, the old fucker who changes his loyalties on a whim. Still can’t understand why Octavius keeps him around and doesn’t just kick him out.
We stare at one another for several moments, Antonio’s gaze darting between us all until finally settling on Octavius and then traveling up to focus on the dead body.
He gasps, covering his mouth, and trembles slightly.
I roll my eyes, and several emotions flash, wave after wave, before he finally straightens up, adjusts his butler’s jacket, and addresses Remi. He knows better than to speak to me since I ignore him all the time. “Estella went to visit her friend with the driver, and the maids have the day off today.” His quiet voice is barely audible. “The camera footage is downstairs in the basement.” He looks among us. “What should I do?”
My brow rises at this. He clearly chose Octavius this time around and intends to help us. Not that it changes anything or my feelings about him.
If you fuck with my family, you deserve hell, and that’s final.
A chuckle slips past Santiago’s lips, grating on my nerves and fueling my fury and fear. I push him in the shoulder, and all amusement disappears. “What’s so funny, Santiago? Octavius might end up in jail!” I shout the last part, raising my arm, but he blocks it and punches me in the gut instead, and I stumble back.
Or rather, pretend to do so. If I retaliate, he will recognize the move, and he can’t know that we share the same teacher.
His relationship with his father…is complicated, and I’m not going to damage it any further or interfere.
I only watch over Jimena and make sure he doesn’t upset her during his raging episodes when the smallest of details can set him off.
“Then he shouldn’t have killed his stepfather for everyone to see,” Santiago replies, indifference lacing his tone, and for a second, regret flashes in his gaze.
Probably for the boy he once was who’d never react so fucking calmly to this all.
“Fuck you!” I spit, lunging for him again.
