Ruined Castles (The Elite King's Club 8)

“What if I go into labor in the maze?” Madison is saying to Tate as they start to disappear down the stairs.

I don’t bother to tell her that I’m pretty sure I’d hear her screams. The past few months have been tense, but it’s an angst we needed. I wasn’t lying when I said love didn’t come near the way I feel about her. There’s love, and then there’s what I feel for Madison fucking Hayes. Which she reminds me of daily.

Music played through the speakers as we all sat around a table out on the patio of Nate and Tillie’s house. Saint and Brantley were in the kitchen, probably fighting over who was bringing what out. Brantley hasn’t let her lift shit since finding out she’s pregnant, as he should.

Madison’s constant tension was tight enough to snap, and I knew what she’s still mad about. Tillie and Saint didn’t care as much, but Madison was still irked about the surprise wedding. I didn’t know if she’s mad about the wedding or the marriage at this point.

Her thigh touched mine before she quickly moved away from me, only she didn’t get far because my hand landed on her thigh and I squeezed. “What the fuck is your problem now?”

Nate and Tillie continued with their chatting to Abel in the background. Everyone was used to our bickering at this point, so anything that was said usually went unnoticed. With the exception of Nate watching my tone with her now. Since she forgave him, he’s back to being a psychopath with her. As he should…

She moved out of my grip. “Fuck you. I’m nothing.”

“Hey.” I snatched her chin between my fingers, yanking her eyes to mine. “You’re Madison motherfucking Hayes, and you’re my bitch.”

“Wrong, I’m worse than that.” She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “I’m your wife.”

Yeah. I fucked up.

“Tsk.” I released her chin and waved her off. “Fuck outta here with your bullshit.”

My phone vibrates in my pocket, pulling me out of one of the many fights we’ve found ourselves in lately, and I answer when I see it’s my old man.

“Yeah?” I keep my eyes zoned on the entry of the maze. Madison is due any day now. Her midwife wants to induce her this week if the babies don’t come naturally.

“How are my grandchildren?”

“Too scared to come out. Must know who their grandfather is.”

He chuckles. “Everyone knows who their grandfather is, son.”

I run my tongue over my lip. Precisely the problem. “Everything okay?” I ask, sipping on my coffee.

“The Gentlemen are ruffling feathers.”

“Ruffling feathers, how? We had an agreement.”

“I know, and his woman just went into labor. I don’t know what’s happening over there, but you need to sort it out.”

“I will. Explain the feathers, though.”

A door closes in the background, and when I see both Tate and Madison exit from the maze, I smile tensely at them while turning back around and making my way through the doors and into the family room. Madison is smart, she most likely caught me retreating, and those familiar alarm bells will be signaling in her head that I’m hiding shit from her.

I’ve come to the realization—among the chaos that is our life—that she wants to know. She wants the nitty-gritty bullshit we go through. I know she can handle it—it’s just I don’t want her to have to.

“There seems to be a rogue fish in their circle. I do think it’s an in-house issue that they’re dealing with, but ideally we do need to check Danny’s head and see where he’s at.”

I keep my eyes trained on the Gothic architectural kitchen. The stark white fittings and steel fixtures. Three windows arch up to the ceiling, which overlook the maze down below, and I move closer to keep an eye on Madison, but see she and Tate are no longer there. “I’ll make the call. I take it he’s in the position that I’m in. We don’t want any blood spilled while our families are expanding.”

“You could just kill him. Make it easier.”

“Dad.”

“Logically, Bishop, you should. Listen, if you cut the head off the top, the soldiers below will fear you. It’s the only appropriate action—” His words die out. Hector fucking Hayes.

“I’m not doing it that way. You gave me the gavel, how I do things is going to be different. You knew this was going to happen.”

“…son.”

“Dad. They call you The Mad King. I will not be taking that name. Let me handle it.” I knew he was going to take a while to detach from his role, but fuck. Yet another time I wish my grandfather was here to tell me how Hector took the gavel when it was time. I’m sure I could ask my mom, but as usual, she’s biased as fuck when it comes to him.

“Alright, alright. Let’s talk our baby Kings. Do we know what they are yet?”