Ruined Castles (The Elite King's Club 8)

God gives us temptation to remind us what we can lose.

IT’S BEEN THREE DAYS SINCE Nate was at our place, and even though Bishop has hardly been home, I find myself feeling as though I’m being watched. Every turn that I make when I go to the markets, I feel invisible eyes lurking behind the back of my skull. I tried telling Tate, but she wouldn’t listen. She said it was me coming off the snow since our night out, but I was certain that wasn’t it. I knew I had to give it up for him. For us. I’m desperate to make things work with Bishop and get us back on track, and I know that in order for us to do that, I need to stop my recreational activities. Arguing with him by saying we all would do it, isn’t an argument that I want to engage in either, because it’s clear that none of them have been hooked on that elated high after the first dust of evil. Just me. They all can play with coke without it playing them.

I want to do better. I want to be beside him as his queen. Build the life we always talked about.

But right now, I find my paranoia becoming strong. Too strong. Not enough to have me reaching for a little white bag, but enough to make me look nuts. More than I am.

I dial Bishop’s name on my phone as I cross the busy road, picking up my pace to the apartment and ignoring the blaring horns and profanities being screamed at me from angry New Yorkers.

“What, Madison?”

I swallow past the bluntness of his words. “I think someone’s following me.”

“Where are you?” He hardens his tone, but in a way that I remember him being. The protective asshole who fell in love with me, and me only. “Madison!” And he’s mad again.

“I’m almost home.”

“Keep me on the phone until you get there.”

“Okay.” I cross the road when it’s clear and round the corner that leads directly to my building—passing the scent of freshly baked bread from the bakery across the street. Peering over my shoulder, my heart beating in my chest—I let out a relaxed sigh when I see Eli jogging up to me.

“Never mind! It’s Eli.”

Bishop mumbles something under his breath before the line goes dead.

“Heey!” I say, shoving my phone into my jacket pocket. “What are you doing in the city?”

He hitches his thumb over his shoulder. “Running a babysitting errand.”

“Ah.” I continue my walk back to the apartment with him beside me. “King business?”

“I wish.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Hey, is everything okay? You know I’m always here for a chat. I know you’ve got Nate and Bishop, but I also know they’re both going through shit right now, so just saying, I’m here.”

“Thanks, E. That’s really sweet of you.”

He nudges my shoulder with his and points up ahead. “I’ve gotta head back to Riverside. You’ll be okay?”

I tilt my head toward the opening doors of the building, stopping in front. “I’m home now. I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, Mads. See you soon.” And he disappears through the sea of bodies as I make my way up to our apartment.

Passing the reception desk, I notice V isn’t working, which isn’t unusual. She works nights, but the girl who works days could not be more opposite to V. I actually think she hates me a little too.

I don’t bother waving to her as I enter the private elevator, swiping my card to take me to our level. Seeing a text from tate, I open it with a smile. Bet she’s hung over.

I lost your house key at the club. Fuck.

I ignore her text, typical Tate. She wouldn’t have lost it. It’ll be at her house somewhere or stuck in her bra. I’m flicking through Instagram when the doors part. I take one step in before something is being shoved over my head, cutting off my sight.

“Hey!” I yell, but some kind of rope ties around my mouth, my arms pinned to my back. Tingles spread through my body as I fall to the ground, desperate to kick something—anything. Only I’m met with air.

“She’s feisty.” A man’s voice.

I don’t recognize him. Oh my God, someone was watching me. Something pinches me in my thigh, and I scream, wriggling around on the ground to try to get on my feet. Dread drowns me along with whatever poison they just injected into my leg. I know this isn’t Bishop’s shenanigans. I know. I can fe—my body liquefies, as if my limbs are slowly turning to Jell-O.

“What did—” I attempt to say, only I can’t feel my tongue and I’m pretty sure drool is falling down my lip. I try to reach for it but can’t feel my arms. Did they cut them off? Tears prick the corner of my eyes as whatever was covering my face disappears.