Ruined Castles (The Elite King's Club 8)

“Bishop, please—I—”

My eyes slam into his and it’s like he’s slapped me across the face. Oh God.

“Who the fuck was it, Madison?”

“Please, I-I don’t know who it was, I just—”

He laughs, and perfect white teeth blind me as he tips his head back, the veins in his neck hammering against his tanned skin. Right over his swan tattoo. My swan tattoo. Fear cripples me from being able to move. “So not only did you cheat on me, but you did it with someone you don’t even know?”

I jump at the tone of his voice.

Turning slowly in his chair, he snatches the funnel off the floor and brings the tip to his nostril before taking a line.

Then another.

And another.

Finally he clears both nostrils, turning back to face me, all emotion now gone. The pain he bared to me seconds ago now covered in snow.

He flicks the funnel at my face and it clips my lip. “Come home when you’re ready. I’ll be waiting for you. Slut or not.”

Then he stands from the chair and leaves, slamming my door so hard it shakes the old photos of us all together. Every memory documented. A framed shot falls to the floor, shattering the glass it was in.

Picking up the funnel around the rogue sobs swimming in my heart, I take a line.

Another.

Another.

I take the fourth one with a promise to myself that I won’t do this forever. The coke. The lies. The toxicity. The feeling like an outsider with people who I’m supposed to call my family. I brush the last three off the desk with my hand and turn some music on, cranking it up. Needing that distraction—other than the high of drugs.

Limp Bizkit comes on and I swing around the four posts of my bed. “Eat You Alive.” Such a good song. Falling down on my bed covers drenched in sweat, my erratic laughter turns into full-blown cries.

I broke my soulmate’s heart, now I no longer want mine.

I wake up the next morning with a dry throat and a headache that can only mean withdrawal. I know I’m acting like a mess. I know that. I want to stop.

I look at the fallen powder over my carpet, closing my eyes to take in deep breaths.

“Fuck.”

The tears start again, and I wrap my arms around my legs, pulling them in closer. When my phone vibrates on the floor of the bathroom, I dive down to grab it, wishing and hoping it’s Bishop. I’d take anything over losing him.

I notice Tillie’s name and answer. “Hello?”

“Madison, ahh, Bishop is losing his shit in his office, and if I’m honest, I’m a little afraid he’s going to kill Nate or any of them—”

I hang up my phone and shove on my Riverside Prep hoodie and Converse, snatching the keys to my Ferrari. Jogging downstairs to the showroom garage, I unlock my turquoise pastel car and slide into the driver’s seat. My phone starts ringing again and I hit the phone emblem on the steering wheel as I reverse out of the garage, flooring it down our driveway.

“What?”

“You hung up on me!” Tillie whines.

“Sorry,” I say, sniffing my nose. I reach up to touch my nostril and bring my fingers back down to see bright red blood on the tips. “Fuck.” I swipe it on my hoodie and continue the drive. “Look, I’m on my way. Who is in there with him?”

“Nate and Brantley. Hey, what’s going on with you two, Mads?”

“He’ll be fine, but please don’t leave him alone.”

“Mads…”

“Look. We’ve… I can’t do this right now. I won’t be long.” I floor it forward onto the highway and hang up the phone, panicking. My heart is broken, but it still beats for him, and the blood that’s rushing around my body is hot—wanting to break out of my skin.

“Oh God.” As soon as I pull into the hotel, my tires skid to a stop and the valet is already there, smiling at me.

“Morning, Madison—”

I toss the keys at him. “I’m so sorry, Trevor. Please just park it somewhere.” I didn’t even stop to check myself and see how bad I looked, because right now I know Bishop’s spiraling. I can feel it inside of me that he needs me. He hates me, but he needs me. I need to be that person—the one he always doubts that I am.

I push the private elevator and swipe my key, waiting as the numbers climb along with my agitation when they don’t move fast enough.

The doors ping open and Tillie is standing there, eyes wide. “Madison—”

I ignore her, shoving out of her way and going straight for the office. I don’t bother knocking, pushing the door open and bracing myself for anger.

Chaos.

Maybe all three of them killing each other.

What I wasn’t expecting was seeing all of them sitting in different areas of the room, calm and settled. Goddammit. Tillie made it sound like this was urgent.