Page 148 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

And this truth changes everything.

Chapter Sixteen

“Everyone knows how the story ends when you fall in love with a prince.

How does it end though when you fall for a monster?”

Penelope

Penelope

The elevator dings, announcing our arrival, and the minute the doors slide open, Remi gets out and heads straight to our room while I huff in frustration.

After he ordered me to get in his car, he drove all the way here in complete silence, and since I had no idea what to say to him either, considering he was smeared in blood and seemed furious beyond belief, I decided to keep my mouth shut.

Only I didn’t expect all this to last for so long.

Slipping off my heels and rubbing my calves at the pain shooting through me from wearing them, I follow him into the room just in time to see him getting in the shower and turn on the water.

“Remi, we need to talk,” I say, laughing at my choice of words.

Apparently, no man likes to hear them.

He doesn’t reply, so I knock on the shower door and repeat, “We need to talk.”

“I’m taking a shower,” he states the obvious, and I lean on the sink, tapping my foot to let him know I’m staying, so he won’t think he has all the time in world to avoid me.

It must work, as he showers in record time and after a few moments gets out in all his naked glory. He grabs the nearby towel, wrapping it around his hips, and runs his fingers through his wet hair.

Completely ignoring me, he goes back to the room and walks to the bar, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as the moonlight streaming from the open window brightens up the space around us and gives him an even more sinister appeal.

“Bring them on.” He takes a large sip, closing his eyes as he swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobbles, bringing attention to his throat and the bulging veins in it.

My brows furrow in confusion, and I turn on the dim light in the room, which allows me to study his expression better. “Bring on what?”

He sips more from his drink before pressing his back to the wall. “Hysterics.” A beat passes, and he elaborates, “Scream at me how you hate me and what a monster I am for being alive. And don’t forget to be mad for the way I spoke to you earlier.” He salutes me with his glass, spilling alcohol on the floor. “In other words, my wife, curse me till you get tired. Come on.”

My heart flips inside my chest, enveloping it in pain at the tiredness and acceptance in his tone, as if he expects nothing else from me.

Why would he?

I made my feelings quite clear and fought him every step of the way.

“I don’t want to do that.” He stills, his brow shooting up, and I can read on his face he doesn’t believe me. “The only thing I need is to understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Will anything change once you fulfill your revenge?” He frowns, finishing his drink, so I add, “Will your heart settle once you punish your grandfather for what he did?”

He freezes, staring at me in shock that he quickly covers up with indifference, and reaches for the whiskey bottle again, throwing away the glass that lands on the carpet with a muffled thump. He drinks straight from the bottle, gulping it, because I think he needs the courage to talk about his pain.

Otherwise, he won’t be able to survive it.

“I don’t know,” he says, wiping his mouth. “It sure as fuck will bring me satisfaction.”

“Will it?” I come closer to him but don’t dare touch him. Instead, I sit down on the bed, my gaze trained on him, too afraid to spook him before he shares anything. “Or will you continue to fight in clubs and kill people?”

A crooked smile flashes on his lip while his brown eyes stay absolutely dead. “Once upon a time, four boys fell in love with a certain myth, because it represented our own qualities in a way. Four riders destined to bring mayhem to this world, and yet despite their differences, they always stayed together.” Another large sip, and I do my best to focus on this conversation, even though he doesn’t answer my question—although I think the truth hides behind their backstory. “Then one of us got kidnapped while the three others suffered in their own ways, years and years of abuse and pain that bottled up inside us, demanding an outlet.”

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