The Broken Puppet (The Elite King's Club 2)

Pulling up to our low-class flat and the bar, I get out of the car, slamming the door behind me, which wakes Tatum from her deep slumber.

“Wait!” Bishop gets out, shutting the door. Ignoring his intrusive behavior, I start walking toward the side stairs in the back alley. “Madison!” he yells, his heavy footsteps getting louder and louder. “Would you fucking wait?” He grips onto my arm, tugging me backward.

I let out a frustrated scream, yanking my arm out of his grip. “Can you fucking not? God! You—”

His hand flies up to my throat, leaving me gasping for air. Pushing me backward until my back slams against the bricks, he steps between my thighs and grazes me higher up the wall. “First of all,” he squeezes until I’m sure my face is going to burst, “don’t fucking forget who the fuck you’re talking to.” He tilts his head, glancing over my face. “Second of all, you don’t get to throw your fucking weight around, Madison. I’ll lock you in a cage as soon as we get you back to the Hamptons if you don’t watch your fucking mouth.” He releases me, my feet hitting the ground.

“Fuck you.” Spinning around, I run up the metal stairs, push open the door, and head straight to my bedroom, fighting back the tears that are threatening to surface. Where the hell is my dad? Why is it that Bishop is the one who was sent to “collect” me? Did I really think I could run from them? Well yes, yes I did. Pulling open my closet, I start tearing my clothes off the hangers and throwing them onto my bed just as Bishop walks in.

“You have five minutes to get everything that means anything to you and get back downstairs. You try to run,” Bishop says, his voice dipping, “and I’ll kill you myself. I’m done playing games.” Then he walks out and leaves me in my room, clutching the dark sequined dress I wore last weekend—back when things weren’t so complicated. I mean, as complicated as us being on the run from my psychopathic whatever he is. Ex? No. That doesn’t sound right.

“Jesus,” Tatum murmurs, walking in, her hair all over her face. She rubs the palm of her hand over her forehead. “What the hell happened?”

“You passed out,” I mutter, still annoyed at Bishop and shoving clothes into my suitcase. “And you have five minutes to pack before Bishop carries us both out.”

“I saw that.” Her eyes widen. “So he found us, huh?”

I chuckle, walking into the bathroom to grab my toothbrush. “No, we were never lost from him.”

LANDING BACK IN THE HAMPTONS wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Despite the fact that Bishop refused to even glance my way for the entire flight, I guess a sense of calm has come over me. Running is tiring. Keeping up with your aliases and fake appearances… I was tired of it to a degree. Did I want to get caught? No. But at the same time, it’s like it’s finally over.

Or just begun.

Stepping down off the steps and onto the tarmac, I grip onto Tatum’s arm and tug her forward.

“Ouch!” she protests. “Geez, Mads, I’m fragile right now.”

“What are we going to do, Tate?” I whisper as we head toward the awaiting black stretch limo. “I mean, seriously, what if they kill us?”

She rolls her eyes, pulling her arm out of my grip. “Madison, they’re not going to kill you. You’re being dramatic.” She looks at me and I narrow my eyes. “Fuck,” she exhales. “Fine, okay. Well, if they do, I won’t go down without a fight. All right?”

“Tatum.” I shake my head.

“Move.” Bishop shoves me toward the limo. I snarl at him, gripping the door handle just as a black Audi Q7 flies down the strip, skidding to a halt in a cloud of smoke. I wave the smoke away from my face and squint my eyes.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Bishop curses, shoving me behind himself.

“Nah-uh!” a voice barks behind the cloud.

I know that voice.

“Nate!” I yell, running toward the smoke and straight into his arms. He’s wearing his trademark red baseball cap flipped backward. I’ve never been so fucking happy to see that stupid cap. Pulling me into his chest, he lifts me off the ground, and I wrap my legs around him.

“Hey, Kitty, how you been?” He squeezes me into him.

“Not good,” I answer truthfully. I didn’t realize just how much I missed Nate until I heard his voice. I don’t know if it’s fair that I forgive him and not Bishop, but at the same time, Nate hasn’t threatened my life a hundred times within the space twenty-four hours.

Nate steps backward, his hands dropping down to mine. “It had to be done, sis. You know that.” He searches my eyes. “Right?” I pull my bottom lip into my mouth. “Listen, things have changed. If Bishop didn’t come get you, someone else would have, only you wouldn’t be coming home in a seat on that plane. You’d be coming home in a box.”