Page 59 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

We might be mad at one another, and not support our decisions, as they might seem too insane for us.

But we stand with each other no matter what, and we face every trouble together, never shying away from the consequences.

Together, we shoulder every responsibility and will protect one another forever. If you hurt or cross one of us, you might as well have done it to all of us.

“Hola, Lachlan. Como estas?” Santiago winks at the man who just lifts his brow at him and then zeroes his focus on everyone else. “Gentlemen, welcome to Chicago.” Despite his indifferent tone, I detect notes of fury, especially when his eyes land on Arson and Callum. “After everything I’ve done for both of you, you turn your back on me?” He exhales heavily, hissing through his teeth. “Like Brutus who betrayed Caesar.”

Callum rolls his eyes, although a ghost of a smile appears on his face. He probably finds this situation amusing.

“Cut the crap, Santiago,” Arson snaps, the wind billowing his blue hair. “Take Remi and get the fuck out of here.”

“Careful, amigo. You’re treading in dangerous water,” my best friend warns, brushing his finger over the trigger. “You don’t come to our city and threaten one of us without repercussions.”

“You don’t claim one of my own against their will without repercussions,” Lachlan fires right back at my friend, while the tension escalates even more, accompanied by powerful booms in the sky as more thunder shakes it.

Octavius speaks up, brushing his shoulder against mine, and I know it’s a silent apology from him for his earlier outburst. “Amalia came to Remi willingly. She is his. You, on the other hand”—he motions at Lachlan with his chin—“broke the treaty set in stone.”

Ah, right.

We don’t buy property in each other’s cities nor show our faces there without permission, and they do the same.

A cold accord that allowed us a peaceful existence that my obsession will bring to an end.

Florian steps forward, swinging the gun back and forth as he addresses Lachlan. “Let’s all calm down and think rationally, shall we?” Always the charmer in the group, he manages to keep his emotions in check and never allows rage to dictate his actions. “If you give us Amalia, we will forget about the treaty. After all, we’ll be family.” His raised hand stops whatever Arson wants to say. “If you don’t, the war will be bloody. Even if we all kill each other today, we all have alliances. Do you want them to fight too?”

Right.

Our deaths will initiate a chain of events that will affect not only us but all the mafia houses connected to us.

Like the MacAlisters and Boston’s Deadly Trinity.

Those two don’t really need any more encouragement to fight than they already have.

Silence falls all around us, disrupted only by the owls hooting in the distance as Lachlan and I have another stare off.

I’m not going to back off, no matter what. For the first time in my life, I’m selfish and greedy for my woman to be by my side as I end the reign of the person responsible for our miseries.

Even a villain’s patience wears thin with time.

“No,” Lachlan finally replies, the statement announcing the beginning of a war. “You will not get her.”

Tension ripples through everyone. The first raindrops start to fall on us, the lightning flashing, charging us with the much-needed energy of doom and chaos. “May the stronger one win, then.”

Before anyone can say anything else though, a loud voice pierces the fog of rage enveloping us. “Stop!”

I shift my attention to Amalia running toward us, and the beast inside me sighs in relief at seeing her again. The constant need to have her near me is new and unusual, because I’ve made it my mission to never need anyone in this world.

But my dark-haired beauty is the exception to this rule.

She reaches us quickly, her bare feet peeking through the grass, and my brows furrow when I notice a new dress on her that’s so different in style than her previous one.

She had time to change?

“Lachlan, stop,” she says, gulping for breath, and grabs his elbow. “I don’t want war.” He frowns at her, and she settles her gaze on me. “I will marry him.” She flips her hair back. “And you will give us your word that no matter what happens, there will never be another war.” A beat passes. “Our arranged marriage, so to speak, will form an alliance of sorts.”

“Amalia,” he utters her name, but I hear an unrecognized note, as if he is almost disappointed in her.

However, that’s not what snags my attention and makes me study the woman in front of me harder than ever.

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