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The question hangs in the air, coating the atmosphere in danger and chaos as he reminds me we aren’t just billionaires who decided to chat.
No.
We’re both murderers, the only difference that I have some sanity left in me while he…his madness knows no bounds, and he thrives in all the pain he causes, torturing his victims sometimes for years before he finally ends their lives.
Rumor has it he created an underground prison where he keeps all those he deems guilty, and his methods…well, they have the ability to make even the likes of me uneasy.
He’s legendary among us all as Lachlan refused to train him because he feared his morals would be long gone, and he never bothers to play nice with anyone.
He’s a loner by nature, and no one really knows if they can be safe in his company because a certain sense of insanity surrounds him.
A true psychopath who mastered his craft so well, he changes his moods and manipulation tactics like a chameleon to fit a narrative he wishes to present to the world, hiding his true nature.
Instead of answering his question, I fire my own. “A little bird told me you’re getting married. Is it true?”
“Si.”
“What a pity.” I wait a beat. “For the bride.”
His grin widens. “Rather for me. I’m marrying a spineless spinster who follows her family’s rules instead of taking a stand.” Judging by his tone, he has little respect for his bride, and I wonder if his sadistic tendencies were a deciding factor when he made the choice. The man pays zero attention to women unless he fucks them, but even then, no one ever caught him with one. The younger sister fit him more in style and behavior. “Which reminds me.” He snatches a golden envelope, then leans forward and throws it on the table. “You’re invited. It’s in two months.” He sighs dramatically, and the dramatics grit on my nerves. “Ah, I’ll be a married man with the most boring wife on Earth.” He laughs. “Maybe that’s my atonement for all my crimes.”
I feel sorry for his bride because he has no soul or heart, and he’s so hell-bent on this marriage that he needs to get something from it. The woman will be just collateral damage.
“And to what do I owe the pleasure?”
He flips the lighter several times as we stare at one another. “Not many people have the guts to summon me to their city and expect me to dance to their tune.” His voice becomes angry, and warning laces every letter, indicating he found the request offensive, and deep rage hides behind his nonchalant facade. “What do you want, Reed?”
After discovering some things, I connected all the dots and studied all the archive files that finally allowed me to create a clear picture in my head. Right away, I messaged him to come here, although I didn’t expect him to listen to me. The man rarely leaves Houston because his grandparents don’t react to his absence well. They found him at the age of fifteen and have kept a tight grip on his whereabouts ever since. He travels for work, but out of respect for them, he stays in Texas.
“I have a situation. And I think you might be the key to finally ending it.”
“Is that so? Interesting. Our paths never crossed in the past or present, and I don’t see us working together in the future.” He swirls a finger in the air. “We are sort of competitors, aren’t we? We work in the same field.” He snaps his fingers. “Ah, I see what it is. So the rumors are true.” My fists clench while I keep the indifference on my face, already predicting what he’ll say next. “The Four Dark Horsemen are over. The unity is broken.” He rubs his lighter over his cheek. “I guess Florian shouldn’t have fucked Santiago’s sister, huh?” He hisses through his teeth. “He broke the code.”
“Careful how you speak about my family,” I warn him. We have another long stare-off, and he nods. “Besides, no. We’re still a unit.”
At least, Remi and I actively work on it, because Florian and Santiago refuse to listen to each other and have caused so much trouble in the past two weeks. It’s a wonder they haven’t killed us all at this point. There is no worse enemy than the one who used to be your best friend because Santiago uses the most cruel verbal and physical blows, and sometimes, I barely resist beating the shit out of him. If he takes it any further, there will be no friendship to salvage.
That’s a story for another time, though. We might be in trouble, but no one fucking has to know.
No matter what happens, we are the dark four, and we handle all our mess ourselves.
“Octavius, I’m not the enemy here, but you have a lot of those. Some of them might come to Chicago and check if the rumors are true. I suggest you clean up your mess before it happens.” He ignites the lighter, watching the flame. “So what is it that you want?”
“I have an enemy from the past who wishes to hurt me and my wife. Because I framed him for a murder he didn’t commit, and his sadistic self found it as a great offense.” His face stays blank as he listens to me and continues to flip the lighter. “He hid for years, but I finally figured out who he is.”
“He wants your wife?”
Anger rushes through my veins just imagining this bastard getting his hands on my Isla, and I manage to grit, “Yes. He considers her his property. He got off on torturing her all these years, but now that she’s my wife, he is no longer content.” I wait for a beat. “That’s where you come in. I think he’ll make a move soon, and I need you in town to handle it with me.”
“Because the dark four are a mess,” he concludes, and a chuckle slips past my lips as amusement laces his tone as if he knows everything. He might have a brilliant mind, but how arrogant do you have to be to assume I would call him, of all people, to help me with an issue?
“No. Because I think it’s your given right.”
He stills at this, studying me for several seconds, and a dangerous light enters his gray eyes. “I hate liars, Octavius. Whoever lies to me deserves no respect and usually ends up dead.” He gets up, and I do so right along with him while the energy changes swiftly, becoming wicked and dark, ready to erupt in rage. “I forgive you this once but don’t ever try to summon me to your city under false pretenses again.”
“You don’t dish out orders in my territory,” I warn him, and more tension cracks in the air. I showed him generosity by inviting him here, and instead of appreciating it, the fucker issues threats and establishes dominance.
His face darkens. “I wouldn’t be so brave if I were you, Octavius. I don’t see your best friends having your back right now. Remember your motto. Only in unity you survive.” We stare at one another, and he grins, although right now it serves more as a warning than anything else. “This conversation is over. You should have been honest if you wanted my help with your shit.”
