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

Yes.

“Go upstairs?” I whisper against his lips.

He smirks, the curve of his mouth pressing against mine. His dimple pops out and I groan like an unhinged horny teenager.

“Naw, babe. That’s too mainstream for me.” He takes my hand and tugs me toward the open doors. “Come.” I take another drink and go to place it on the countertop, only for him to pick it back up. “We’re gonna need this.”

We pass Tatum briefly near the stairwell, and she looks at me, eyes wide. “What the fuck?” she mouths, shock evident on her face.

I shrug and follow Brantley anyway. Stepping outside, he pulls me again, tucking me under his arm and leading me toward his RT Dodge Charger. I pull open the passenger side and slip into the dark leather seats. The car is nice, sort of looks like the one Vin Diesel drives in The Fast and the Furious. Brantley gets into the driver seat and roars her to life, the deep V8 engine vibrating underneath me.

“Where we going?” I ask, turning to face him.

He smirks. “You have no idea.” Then he floors it out of the driveway. As we pass all the streetlights and overgrown trees, I begin to sober a little. “Brantley?” I whisper as he drops it down to second gear and accelerates. I look toward him. “Brantley, where are we going?” His face straightens, all playfulness that I saw earlier gone. That’s when realization sinks in. I just got into a car with Brantley—thinking I was going to fuck the shit out of him, only now I’m fearing for my life. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I have a feeling this one is going to take the cake. My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I sit up, pulling it out and opening the message from an unknown number.

Riddle me this…

FUCK!

I look toward Brantley. “What the fuck is this?”

Brantley laughs and floors it forward. “As I said—you have no idea.”

Slamming my eyes shut, I squeeze my phone in my hand, ignoring the text and not wanting to read on. Brantley must sense this because he decides to take over.

“Riddle me this, Kitty. What happens when you drink from poison, thinking it’s love, but when you get hit with the buzz, things start to fuzz, until you can’t breathe, and your suffocating becomes the release?”

Fear prickles over my skin and I shake my head. “Nate said he was done fucking with me. Bishop wouldn’t do this to m—”

“Oh, but he would. You see…” Brantley grins, dropping gears and driving us onto the highway. “Human emotions are a fickle thing. They can blind even the smartest of people and make them think that someone won’t do bad, but people will always do bad. There’s no stopping that. So tell me, Madison.” He looks at me now as he applies more pressure on the accelerator.

“Brantley, your speed.”

His eyes stay on mine, the darkness of them sucking me in like sinking sand. “Don’t care. But tell me,” his smirk deepens as he puts his attention back to the road ahead of him, “what makes you think Bishop really gives a fuck about you?”

“He does, a little bit,” I murmur, realizing how deluded I must sound. This is Bishop Vincent Hayes—king of no emotions and zero fucks given. Why am I cocky enough to declare he gives more than a fuck about me?

Brantley laughs. “Oh, Madison. There’s so much you don’t know, and won’t know. But one thing you should know is that Bishop has no feelings for anyone. He plays the game right, draws them in enough to think he gives a fuck, but ultimately, he doesn’t. There’s a reason why he’s the king of the Kings, Kitty, and it’s not because of his overwhelming river of feels he pours upon girls. It’s because he ends lives without flinching.”

I swallow past the ball of fear that has developed in my throat. “You won’t win this round, Brantley.” I look at him, really regretting the alcohol consumption and inwardly declaring I will never drink like this again.

“Naw, Kitty.” Brantley grins again, pulling down a long dark road. “We’ve already won.” Then he slides into the driveway and floors it until we reach the cabin we all stayed at months ago. Memories come flooding back, and I realize how naïve I’ve been when it comes to Bishop and Nate. I was deluded with the idea of loyalty, when in fact that didn’t mean anything to them. Never did. They warned me that I was just a pawn in their game—I move when they want me to move, speak when they want me to speak. I just didn’t realize it until now.

“What do you want?” I ask, my tone flat. “You guys give me whiplash with these games.”