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

“Then it’s love.”

Turning my head, I look at her. “What do you mean?”

“It is what it is, Mads. You’re in love with him, and for that reason alone”—she shoves the vodka into me—“you’re going to need this a lot more than me.”

I take it from her, taking another swig. “So you and Nate?”

She freezes then taps on the divider window. “Yo! Sammy! When are we there, homie?”

I laugh, fits of giggles erupting from my belly. She looks at me, pauses, and then starts laughing too. We’re both swiping the tears from our eyes when the car stops outside of Carter’s house, music blaring out and people already standing outside on his front porch drinking.

“Gah, I don’t feel like going in now.”

She laughs. “Just because you have a man to go home to, bitch. Come help me find my next victim.”

“What?” I smirk as she opens her door. “You’re not going to be in the room next to mine?”

She pauses then pushes open the door. “Okay, no, I won’t be. I wanted something more, and he couldn’t give it to me because apparently, he’s into someone else. I can have him for sex only.”

I step out of the car, thanking Sammy briefly and telling her I’d text her if we need a ride home. “You don’t want that?”

She swallows, a sad look passing through her eyes. “With him? Unfortunately, not. I caught fucking feelings.”

Hooking my arm with hers, I nudge my head toward the house. “Well, let’s go get you a bed bud then!”

She grins, tilting the vodka up to her lips and swallowing. “Sounds brilliant.”

Passing all the drunken people on the porch, I push open the front door just as my phone starts ringing in my little bag. I pull it out, blocking one ear to cut out the music, and search for a quiet corner to talk to Bishop.

“Bishop?” I yell into the phone, trying to drown out the music.

“Madison? Go home. Now!”

“What?” I can’t hear his words properly; every time he says something, someone does something loud.

“Bishop?”

“Fuck!” he roars down the phone. I heard that.

“What did you say before?” Finally finding a bathroom, I close the door, the deep bass shaking through the walls.

“I can hear you now.”

“Good. You need to leave right now. I’m on my way.”

“What? Why?”

“Just fucking do it, Madison. For fuck’s sake, I will kill you myself—”

Banging on the door interrupts. “Hang on. Wait there. Someone is knocking like they’re the fucking five-oh.”

“Madison!” he screams, just as I pull open the door.

“What the fu—” I pause, tilting my head. “Brantley?”

“Is that Bishop?”

I look down to my phone. “What? Yeah?”

“You can hang up. Come on, I’ll get you out of here.”

Swallowing past my distrust, I put the phone back into my bag, not hanging up. I’ve got scattered memories as a kid of Brantley and me, but I don’t trust him. Every memory I have of him, which there is only one or two, it’s clear he hates me. Even now, I see that he still hates me. Why though? I don’t understand why he hates me.

“Madison?” Brantley pulls me into his side, his mouth coming to my ear. “There are some people here who are going to take you. I know you don’t trust me, but you trust Bishop, who trusts me.”

Wait!

“Wow! What?” I pause, just as we’re about to get to the door. I look over my shoulder briefly, watching Tatum bump and grind up against some hottie to a techno song. How different our lives are going, like two different lanes. “I don’t want….” I shake my head.

Brantley pulls open the front door and grips me around my arm, squeezing roughly. I look down at his grip and then look back to his face. “That’s too hard.”

“Shut the fuck up.” We reach the end of the path just as a black limo pulls up, one much like ours. The back door swings open and Brantley grabs my hair, shoving me into the dark interior.

“Agh!” I scream, crawling to the corner of my chair.

Brantley gets in after, sitting beside me and unbuttoning his suit. “What the fuck?” I scream at him, but his eyes haven’t moved. They’re stationary, stuck on someone in front of him. When I follow his sight, I suck in a shocked breath. Not someone, someones.

Bishop’s dad, Hector, sits directly in front of me, and though I cannot see the man who is next to him due to the shadows cast over his spot, I see he’s wearing a suit to match Hector’s. “Um?” I clear my throat.

Hector just stares at me, fascinated. He’s more than intimidating; he’s downright lethal. He sucks the oxygen out of everyone sitting in the space. Now I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree for Bishop.

He clears his throat. “You’re quite the nuisance, Madison.”