Page 46 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

He wipes away the blood from his mouth. “What’s going on, Remi? Don’t like to hear the truth?”

“My woman is not a whore,” I reply, pushing away Santiago who stands in my way probably aiming to stop the fight, but the anger pumping my blood doesn’t give him the opportunity to do so.

Besides, despite being my best friend—a brother really in all things that matter—he doesn’t understand.

He just doesn’t.

A man who has been given everything he’s ever wanted on a silver platter since his birth will never understand the need to possess, to crave something of his own like I do right now.

And the reminder that Amalia doesn’t belong to me and considers herself attached to Lionel, who she willingly chose as her future husband and always has a loving look on her face whenever her gaze lands on him, only intensifies the madness driving me to the point of insanity.

Because yesterday, Amalia was just a means to an end. I never planned to touch her, just to use her in order to exact my revenge.

Her only tempting quality was her true family name, which essentially gave me a key to unlock the darkest secrets of certain segments of society.

Now though? After seeing her here, touching her, sinking into her, and feeling her tight pussy wrap around my dick while her moans echoed in my ear, consuming me so much I no longer gave a fuck about anything else but claiming her?

The unfamiliar possessiveness and raging fury hate any male on this planet who thinks he has some right over a woman that is mine.

Mine and no one else’s.

I’ll be damned if I allow anything to take her away from me now.

Octavius shrugs as he taps on his chin with his finger. “She’s engaged to another man, yet she fucks you in our club. Sounds like a whore to me.”

My roar reverberates through the walls as I dart at him, hitting him in the collarbone, but he manages to block my aim and dips a little, which sends us both flying to the floor where we start punching each other blindly, not giving a shit where as long as it ensures another’s pain.

Our blows are mean, rough, and charged with the desire to destroy the opponent in order to claim victory and win this argument that shouldn’t even be one in the first place.

No one gets to question, insult, or judge my woman, least of all one of us.

“Apologize!” I shout, kicking him in the legs, but the fucker only laughs, finding it highly amusing.

“I won’t apologize for saying the truth!” he growls back, punching me in the stomach and hissing in pain as I do the same, which loosens his grip on me and allows me to roll to the side, placing my splayed palms on the floor and lifting myself up.

Octavius follows suit, and in a second, we’re both standing once again, facing each other, our chests rising and falling as we gulp for breath.

Although the swirling energy still floats in the air, consuming us both, it gradually becomes calmer and deadlier, slowly gliding over my skin as he announces to me, “I will not risk the brotherhood because you have decided to claim a taken woman.” He raises his hand, cutting off my protest before words leave my mouth as newfound anger finds its way into my darkness, demanding I punish Octavius more so he can choke on his words. “She marries him in two weeks and fucks you? A disloyal woman will never be the bride. Amalia will be the downfall of this brotherhood.”

Ah, right.

Octavius and his rules.

Although this particular rule, number ten, I insisted on back when I was an eighteen-year-old fool who believed in being capable of falling in love with a woman someday and wanted to protect her at all costs.

They even called me the most romantic among the group, which is hilarious, since I had only one girlfriend in high school and never made any romantic gestures for her. The girl ended up fucking Florian in the bathroom at the party, because “who could resist him”— her exact words.

Despite not giving a shit about the girl, I still harbor resentment toward Florian, because his betrayal cut deep.

The asshole can’t even explain why he did what he did, just that it was for my own good. Needless to say, I still haven’t forgiven him. Which didn’t stop us from being best friends who would die for each other, as fucked up as it sounds.

The rest of the women were just fucked and never claimed. Never promised commitment to anyone.

With a loud scratch, Octavius finishes writing on the parchment we ordered, dipping his feather in the ink one last time before putting a dot on it. “So nine rules in total, and we have to seal it with our blood.”

Florian picks up the knife, ready to slice his palm, when my question stops him. “What about women?”

“What about them? You can fuck whoever you want. Just keep it covered, because we don’t need little horsemen in our lives,” Santiago says, shuddering a little at the idea of bringing a child into this world. He has been the most vocal about never wanting to get married.

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