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“Too many to count.” I still at this reply, my jaw dropping as I stare at him while he gazes ahead, gripping the steering wheel tight. “I think classic textbooks would call us psychopaths or sociopaths.” He smirks. “Although I don’t think we all fit that description.”
The Four Dark Horsemen clearly live in their make-believe world where everything they do is justified and right, so they have no qualms whatsoever about their deeds. Florian's voice has no remorse or sadness to indicate his internal turmoil. He talks about it as if we’re discussing the weather! “You all should be in prison.”
“I think the law should be thankful for all the work we do. We take care of those the law is unable to punish or track. Maybe you should change the word murderers to vigilantes. It has a better ring to it.” He sucks a breath through his teeth. “Besides, you’re going to marry Octavius soon. You should be more supportive of our work, darling.”
Ignoring his last sentence because it’s insane, I focus on the whole vigilante thing. What’s he implying? That they kill only those who deserve it, aka bad people where the law cannot do anything? I’ve seen many cases over the years with rapists and molesters who got away with crimes either due to their connection or lack of evidence. Or worse…where the victims’ lives were threatened or they’ve been so brainwashed by their abusers they never spoke up. In all such cases, I always wished for a divine intervention to do something to these guys.
“You don’t kill innocent people?” It would explain why Octavius didn’t go after my grandma or Giselle and why he chose Grayson. While his character leaves a lot to be desired, he helped with Grandma’s medical bills and tolerated all my antics through the years, so either way, he doesn’t deserve to be dragged into my mess any further.
Florian opens his mouth to answer me, but I shake my head. “Whatever. It doesn’t change anything.”
What difference does it make who they kill? A murder is a murder. None of us have the authority to decide who gets to live or die. Laws exist for a reason: they keep society restricted to certain norms in behavior and keep us all safe.
“If you say so.” He parks by the metallic gates, and I realize he brought me back to the Price mansion. “We figured this is the safest place for you to get ready.”
“Why? It’s harder to run away from here?”
“No. The other wives are here.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need their emotional support.” In fact, all my good opinions about them vanished because, what sane women accepts this life, and worse…helps a bride prepare to marry one of their own?
They might have unhealthy attachments toward their men—Stockholm syndrome exists for a reason—but I don’t have to. I can’t control how my body reacts to a man who lights it up, but I can control my baser urges and not succumb to the temptation, reminding myself constantly that he kills people.
It should be enough to extinguish any fire, even of my own creation.
As Florian drives into the narrow asphalt road leading to the mansion, I ask, “Won’t your family or guests find it weird to see me like this?” I point at my dirty dress and my hair looking probably like hay. “Might put a dent in your reputation.” Not that I care one way or the other. But I don’t want to be yet another spectacle in this never-ending night.
“The party is over. My family went to Grandpa’s guesthouse, so no one will disturb you. Michelle is there too to fix all this.” He motions with his hand over my upper body as he finally stops the engine by the stairs. A doorman rushes down, ready to help us. “I wouldn’t advise—”
“Doing anything stupid. You all made that clear. I’m not a fool, Florian. I know what men like you can do, so playing by the rules it is.” As bad as it sounds, marrying Octavius right now is the safest bet, with the Church Killer going crazy and attacking me left and right. He already knows where I live. His next move might be deadly, and I don’t mind dying as long as he dies right along with me. I grab the handle, ready to leave. “I might be calm, but trust me, I’m seething inside and wishing you all eternal torture.”
“We can be allies or enemies, Isla. I would strongly advise to pick the first option over the second one.”
Unbelievable, another threat!
“You don’t have enough friends, Florian?”
Instead of reacting to my verbal jab, he holds my gaze and says, “I’ve protected Octavius since we were six.” What? Why would he need protection from such an early age? I frown, thinking back on all the reports about his childhood, but besides getting that scar, no one knows shit. “He’s my best friend—a brother, really. His happiness and well-being are important to me. Any offense done to him is an offense done to me. If you betray him again, Isla, he won’t be the one to hurt you. I’ll do it for him.” He leans closer as I press my back tighter against the door, fear running down my spine, and my fingers curl on my lap because his voice drops a few octaves, becoming deadly. The hollowness in his eyes is such a contrast to the charming persona he presents to the world. “He’s been stalking you for months.” My eyes widen at this information. “Come on, darling. Use your brain. He’s obsessed with you. You betrayed him, then threatened to do it again at the nearest opportunity, followed by you spitting that bullshit about unwillingly marrying him. Yet you’re still going to marry him. If this doesn’t tell you anything you need to know, then you’re a fool.” He leans back, starting the car and roaring the engine back to life. “Think about this and choose your side, Isla. Because the minute you marry him, you’ll have certain responsibilities.”
I feel another headache coming in waves from all this information. “Why are you telling me all this?” On the grand scale of things, he doesn’t have to be nice to me, and while what he says is hideous, at least he’s honest. I appreciate honesty, even from serial killers.
“Because you’re in love with him.” I still and shake my head. “It’s useless to deny it. Your love won’t die just because the prince turned into a villain, darling. But you have a sense of loyalty in you.” Before I can say anything else, he motions with his chin toward the door, and I see the valet guy from earlier waiting for me. “Go. We’re on a tight schedule here.”
“You’re an interesting man, Florian Price,” I tell him, opening the door and getting out, ignoring the outreached doorman’s hand attempting to help me. Grabbing the door, I dip down and add, “Speaking of loyalties. I wonder how one of your best friends will react once he learns you’ve gotten his sister pregnant?” I purposely whisper the last part so the valet attendant won’t hear us.
His hold on the steering wheel tightens, and despite the anger crossing his face, amusement lights up his green eyes. “I guess that’s why Octavius calls you kitten. You sure have claws. Remember to use them wisely, as every bit of information we possess can be either our salvation or doom.” Another masterfully crafted threat! Unbelievable.
I shut the door in his face, and he starts driving off, but not before shouting, “I’ll see you in church, Isla. Be nice to the others.”
He leaves only dust in his wake while thunder booms in the sky, followed by rain falling rapidly around me and slowly soaking me from head to toe. “Miss, we better get inside. Everyone’s waiting.” The guy tries to urge me inside, but I’m frozen to the spot, my heart galloping inside my chest while various flashbacks play in my head, accompanied by horrified screams.
Church.
He’s going to marry me in a church?
Octavius
“Absolutely not,” Father Paul says, entering the church as he sweeps his gaze over us and places his hands on his hips, frowning. His black mantle flaps in different directions, and he looks quite comical with his glasses barely hanging on his nose. “You better all have come here to confess to your sins and nothing else!”
