Page 1 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

Prologue

“We should be careful what we wish for.

Life has a tendency to give it to us when we no longer want it.”

Penelope

Penelope

A raspy breath escapes me when the organ music fills the space, vibrating the walls around me. I jerk a little, goose bumps breaking on my skin, awakening every hair on my body.

Loud thunder echoes in the night; the lightning brightening the sky is visible through the window as the clouds gather, ready to pour rain and soak the people hastily running inside.

Even nature itself weeps with me it seems, sharing my grief on the day that should be the happiest of my life, where love and hope should fill my heart.

Instead, it is a nightmare that no amount of pinching myself can tear me away from or change this horrendous reality eating at my soul, bite by agonizing bite, leaving painful, festering wounds behind.

Again, thunder shakes the sky, mixing with the music, adding to the fear slowly spreading through my veins, creating gory pictures in my head—one more terrifying than the next—about the outcomes my decision may bring to the future.

My trembling fingers wrap around the short veil laying on the vanity, and I roll my lips to trap the scream ready to emerge from my throat at the sight. According to some traditions, it symbolizes the bride’s happiness and purity.

Two things I no longer possess, because he staked his claim on me and dragged me to his hell.

Made out of the thinnest material and designed especially for me, one could rip the expensive tulle if they aren’t careful enough.

Nothing but the best for the monsters roaming the streets of Chicago and deeming themselves the kings of this world while getting off on their absolute power that makes so many people around them miserable.

Men who are destined to bring apocalypses to this earth if they so wish.

My hands tighten their hold around the veil, my fingers pressing into the material, and for a second, I contemplate throwing it away and stomping on it till it turns black, showing its true colors that might as well be cuffs imprisoning me in a rusty cell with all the routes of escape closed to me.

Just imagining the act brings satisfaction to my bruised soul. I’m ready to drop it and crush it under my blue shoes so the groom can choke at the sight.

However, at the last minute, I stop because every action has consequences in my world, and this time around, there is too much at stake to succumb to the madness creeping into me.

I lift it up, place it on my head, and attach the clips into my hair. I try to ignore the bite-like nips on my head from the metal pins pulling at my dark locks so harshly, and I wonder if I’ll have any hair left at the end of this nightmare.

Although it doesn’t matter, does it, on the grand scale of things?

Finishing, I focus on my refection in the mirror and blink at the hollowness in my sapphire eyes, which on most days shine like the brightest of stones but today signal the upcoming doom that will forever end my life as I know it and dump me in the fire of his creation.

The king of manipulation and obsession bordering on insanity.

A man who permanently resides in darkness and gathers all the lost souls around, feeding on their screams of pain.

A demon sent from hell to feast on my flesh until nothing is left.

Three knocks sound on the wooden door before someone opens it gently, and a woman’s soft voice mutes the thoughts grating on my nerves. A single tear streams down my cheek and falls on my white skirt. “We have to go now. Everyone’s waiting.” A pause and then she adds, “I’m really sorry it has come to this.”

Glancing in her direction, I notice guilt etching her features, her eyes filled with sorrow and compassion, making them enormous in her face.

Although her words hardly matter.

After all, she belongs to their family and as such forever stays on their side, no matter the horrible deeds they participate in.

An enemy is not an evil person or a villain seeking to feast on the vulnerable flesh; an enemy is someone who doesn’t mind sacrificing you or anyone else as long as it serves their selfish desires.

Swallowing past the bile in my throat and grabbing the nearby orchid bouquet, I rise from the vanity chair, which scrapes against the wooden floor. The woman winces a little as she notices that my makeup got ruined by my tears.

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