Page 63 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

But what choice do I have though?

If Remi doesn’t hurt me, then Amalia will.

Damned if I do and damned if I don’t.

“Hello!” I yell, this time louder, and walk to one of the tables, hoping to find water. My dry throat aches as if with a thousand cat scratches.

My eyes widen when they land on a collection of knives in different forms and variation followed by another display of small bottles, each having a description written underneath it.

Poison.

Every single one of them.

A gasp slips past my lips when my gaze shifts to the next table. This time, a gun collection opens to my view with so many bullets ready to be used against people.

“Dear God, what is this place?”

This convinces me the dark four do skirt the criminal world and deep down participate in some hurtful stuff. Why else would someone need all these weapons?

No wonder Lachlan doesn’t want Amalia to be with Remi.

Is this why they ordered me to come here? So I know who I’m dealing with?

Another thought hits me.

What if they know the truth, and this is just destined to test me?

I freeze when I see a wall, what seems like hundreds of pictures scattered all over it, displaying one of the most horrible sights I’ve ever seen.

As each one of them shows the men on them either being chopped, shot, or tortured, with blood pooling around them, speaking about the hell they got to experience before their killer finally finished them.

Victims.

I’ve seen enough documentaries to know who commits such crimes, men who lose their heads and deem themselves gods on earth designed to hurt those who speak to the permanent evil polluting their mind.

Even as much as one single carelessly uttered word can trigger them into committing a hideous crime to sustain the monster eating at them from the inside.

I cover my mouth in shock, the scream stuck in my throat at the prospect of what it might mean, and my brain fights with my heart over the conclusion it's about to make as I refuse to believe it.

No, no, no.

Slowly, I step back from the table, breathing hard while internally ordering myself to not let panic overwhelm me and make me act crazy.

When life sends you into the darkness to play with demons, you stay alert at all costs; otherwise, they will claim your soul.

Another step back, and another, all while fear pulses in waves over me, nipping on my skin and whispering in my ear to race with all my strength away from here, yet I’m almost frozen in time, still gaping at the horrifying images displaying how cruel humans can be in all their glory.

Am I next?

Was that why they ordered to bring me here? We lied, so my punishment is to be chopped like a piece of meat?

The grim future awaiting me painted in my scared mind finally snaps me out of my stupor.

I spin around, ready to bolt, only to bump into a hard, muscled chest, the umbrella dropping to my feet, and my yelp reverberates through the space when a strong arm wraps around my waist, trapping me in the embrace as sadistic laughter tickles my ear.

And right in this moment, the space around me brightens as the lamps above turn on one by one, their intensity blinding me and prickling my eyes, and my vision becomes blurry, partially hiding the monster holding me right now.

“Ma chérie,” the husky and deep voice whispers, sending shivers down my spine, and I press the heels of my palms to my eye sockets, praying to wake up from the nightmare currently playing in my mind and refusing to recognize this man. “You’re here at last.” A beat passes. “Open your eyes.”

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