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No, Remi wouldn't do that, would he?
Too proud to ever beg because he gets everything in life through hard work. Compared to the rest of us who were born with a silver spoon in our mouths.
Resting his elbow on the car door, Santiago asks me, “Did you care about Remi this much when you fucked his girlfriend?”
I smirk because with this question alone, he shows me that he still cares about us all and keeps tabs on the rumors. He might act like he hates us and wants nothing to do with us, but deep down, he misses us, and we ground him.
God knows I wouldn’t have survived my nightmares without them. “I’m surprised myself.” We have a long stare-off, and he sighs, earning a chuckle from me, but his warning glance shuts me up.
He would never jeopardize Remi’s future.
“Remi!” His head snaps in our direction, shock evident on his face, and Santiago motions for him to come to us.
He jogs toward us, and as he reaches, Santiago announces, “Let’s finish it quickly, and hopefully, I won’t have to see any of your faces for a long time.” He zeros his focus in on me. “Where is Octavius?”
“He should have been here.” I frown, snatching my phone and dialing him. A beat passes before I say, “He’s not picking up.”
Remi speaks up. “He went home after school.”
I dial again but get the same result. The tension between us rises as similar thoughts are most likely settling in our minds.
His stepfather has returned home after a long absence, and if he knows about what happened in school…the repercussions might be severe.
With Octavius not picking up, we might need to act fast. Rage and fear overpower me, and my insides scream at me to find him before the fucker causes damage. I only hate one other person than my mother, and that’s Octavius’s stepfather. Santiago beats me to it, though. “We need to go to his house. Florian, ride with us.” His stepfather cares about his image so much he won’t dare hurt him in front of us.
George, Santiago’s driver, pulls the car up by Octavius’s mansion, and I fly outside, a phone still pressed to my ear. I’ve been calling him relentlessly the whole twenty-minute drive here. My mind spirals, imagining the hideous things his stepfather might have done to him, and this time around, I’m going to kill the fucker.
I’ve done everything I could these past few years to protect Octavius from providing moral support, safe places, clothes, food, and everything else he might need. I even nearly killed the monster when he almost killed Octavius.
I thought after that incident, he stopped, but the psychological abuse continued. If he has touched him…all bets are off, and I know more than I did at the age of twelve.
After all, I’d spent my days training in Uncle Lucian’s dungeon to turn the rage constantly living inside me into knowledge. I learned how to properly torture a person to the point they wished they’d never been born.
Knives, poisons, guns, drills, electric chairs.
It’s an art form, and only a true artist knows how to use it. That’s what Uncle Lucian taught me while forcing me to undergo hard and fierce physical training that built my stamina and muscles.
Stamina that I hid well from my friends because I could never confess my secret to them.
Remi and Santiago follow suit. “Fucking pick up!” I exclaim, and we race toward the main door that’s slightly ajar. Surprisingly, Antonio, the butler, is not rushing outside to greet us.
My protective instincts are on high alert as fear penetrates my every bone because this signifies something is indeed wrong. I hate his butler because he witnessed the abuse all these years and did nothing to help. However, no one enters the house without the old man waiting for them there.
When we start going up the stairs, we hear rock music blasting from the speakers, rattling the walls. Exchanging looks of concern, we speed up our pace, and I barge in with them, bumping into his back.
Darkness welcomes us, along with the smell of alcohol saturating the air. I flick on the light, and the usual squeaky-clean house comes into view while nothing seems out of the ordinary.
Well, besides the rock music that becomes louder the farther we get inside; music that’s forbidden in this household because Octavius’s stepfather orders everyone to listen to only classical music.
“Maybe we overreacted. Maybe he’s not home yet.” Remi breaks the silence, although he doesn't sound convinced, glancing inside the living room. “Is anybody here?” No one answers, which wouldn’t have been so surprising under normal circumstances since this household has only Antonio, a driver, and two maids. His parents believe in a minimalistic approach to life.
His stepfather even refuses to have security watching his property, and the iron gates guarding it have a special code that allows you to get inside.
I’m one of the few who knows it, and it’s saved Octavius’s and Estella’s lives in the past.
However, right now, when the music is blasting so loud my eardrums start to hurt, their silence is strange and alarming.
I push Santiago to the side and dart to the second floor, my boots thumping loudly on the marble, and the guys trail me as the noise becomes louder and louder, coming from the direction of the primary bedroom.
