Page 62 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

Amalia stops the car abruptly, making my lurch forward, and the seatbelt pulls me back again as the air hitches in my throat.

“You fucked him in the club. I’m sure you’ll have no problem sharing his bed.”

My shoulders sag at the reminder, hating how dirty our encounter sounds on her lips, but I have no words to dispute her statement.

Searching for the right explanation, I say, “It’s different now. And lying is wrong.” Remi’s behavior toward my twin is a giant red flag, since he doesn’t accept her no as an answer. However, coming up with this scheme in order to gain something for herself doesn’t make Amalia any better.

In fact, her complete detachment and willingness to push me in his arms stuns me.

Does she even know what compassion is, or did my aunt manage to tear away her soul, and now she is just this cruel woman who sees no problem with using the twin she dislikes as her weapon?

“Penelope,” she addresses me, and our gazes meet when she places her hand above mine. Hope blooms in my chest at the thought of her reaching out to me, only to cry out in pain when she squeezes so hard her nails dig into my skin. “I owe Lachlan and the dark protégés everything. They are my family and matter to me the most.”

I twist in her hold, trying to free myself, but she tightens her grip on me, sending prickles of hurt through me. The car’s interior shrinks in size, making me wish to get the hell out of it.

“You see, my dearest twin.” Mockery coats her tone as she smirks. “You screwed up, and in our world, every screw-up has a consequence. So now you have to pay the price for it.” She tugs on my hand, and I hiss, my skin turning red while her nails leave imprints on my flesh. “If you wanted peace, then you should have stayed in Paris.” With that, she lets me go, and I rub my hand over the marks, surprised she didn’t draw any blood, while my heart cries in despair at such treatment.

I guess by finding Amalia, I committed a crime the universe cannot help but punish me for.

Countless years of searching, heartache, and loneliness just for her to be a total bitch to me.

“Don’t worry, Amalia. Trust me, if I knew, I would’ve never come to Chicago.”

Really. The family we create is the only one that matters. My birth one did nothing but hurt me.

Arguably, Asher is still my blood uncle, but he built a little world for us in Paris, hiding me from the ugliness so many people carry in their hearts.

At least now I know and can move on.

Or that’s the lie I wish to believe in, to withstand this situation.

An emotion crosses her face, but she quickly masks it. “Get out. Enter the building, and Remi will greet you there. I can’t come any closer, or they’ll find out the truth.” She leans over and opens the glove compartment, taking out a black umbrella and dropping it on my knees.

Wrapping my palm around it, I nod and then open the door, the humming outside calming me down a bit, and I put my heeled feet on the concrete, splashing water all around me as the rain continues to pour, instantly soaking my legs. “Will you pick me up?” She told me the groom insisted on the wedding tonight, but I’m not aware of future plans after this little meeting.

Which still confuses me. He got what he wanted, so why does he feel the need to talk to me before this marriage?

“No. From now on, you’re on your own. Congrats on the marriage.” I barely restrain the hollow laughter from spilling from my lips at her warning, as if anyone has been with me so far. I’m a lamb trying to survive around hungry wolves.

“Okay” is all I say before getting out and opening up my umbrella, shivering when the blast of wind hits me and buffets me to the side.

“And keep your mouth shut. If anyone gets hurt because of you, I promise you, Penelope, I will take my revenge on you in ways you cannot imagine.” With this, she closes the door herself and drives off, the tires screeching and echoing in the space while I look around me.

Complete darkness greets me, interrupted by the lightning flashing in the sky and brightening up my path through the alley toward a one-level building, my heels clicking loudly. I grip the umbrella tight when the wind whooshes over me so hard it almost slips through my fingers.

An owl hoots in the distance, and I jump again, hating the fear sliding through my veins at the unknown, but I plaster indifference on my face. Amalia would not lose her shit in the current situation.

She’d probably stroll right now with all the confidence in the world.

Finally, I reach the massive metallic door and raise my fist to knock on it, when it opens automatically.

Blinking in surprise, I enter, scrunching my eyes from the light streaming above, and shake my umbrella before folding it.

“Hello!” I call, but no one greets me. However, classical music rocks off the walls, and following the sound, I descend the stairs, weird sensations pulsing all over me, as if trying to warn me about the upcoming danger, and yet they can’t explain what it is. “Hello!” I call again when I reach the bottom, and darkness covers most of the space, with small lamps turned on through the room, I assume, showcasing various tables, with something glistening under them.

How strange.

Everything in me screams to run far away from here and not look back, because something bad will happened soon, and no one will be able to save me.

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