Tacet a Mortuis (The Elite King's Club 3)

She shook her head. “No, it wouldn’t have worked. He had to be with her in order for her to live a normal life.”

“What the hell do you mean a ‘normal’ life. This is the twenty-first century, not the fucking stone ages. These people have no power to do such things.” But even as the words left my mouth, I knew that that wasn’t entirely true. They had far more power than what was visible to the naked eye.

Elizabeth let out another breath, and I fought the urge to ask her if she needed a nebulizer. “Madison,” she said sadly, and I looked to my dad for reassurance. Nate’s grip tightened around my thigh. Reassuringly, or warningly, I wasn’t sure which.

My dad’s eyes dropped low, and that was when everything started shutting down. First, my eyes zoned to the glass tiled floor, and then my knees buckled. Had I not been sitting, I would have stumbled to the ground. “I’m sorry, Madison, but he was ordered to be with you. At first, he didn’t care. He swore that he’d kill you himself if you didn’t comply. Then something changed, he must have realized you were pretty, or interesting, and he tried to hide you from Hector—they all did. They were under the assumption that Hector only knew what you looked like by a photo of you at age ten, so they thought they could get away with it. Only, he...” She paused, and everything zoned out.

My memories started crashing into me like a bad movie on repeat. I heard Nate’s voice faintly in the background, attempting to bring me back to the now, but it was too late, everything she was saying was already making sense in my head.

“You goin’ explain or should I?” Nate murmured smugly from the backseat. Bishop gave Nate a death stare into the rearview mirror. “That night you were with me.”

“Which night?” I added.

“The race.”

“I’m following.”

“You remember how I said something vague like, ‘he won’t recognize you’?”

“Yes…”

“Well, he recognized you.” He dropped the gear into second and floored it onto the main highway, away from the city.

“And who is he?”

Bishop looked into the rearview mirror at Nate before bringing his eyes back to the main road. “My dad.”

I sucked in a breath and shot from the sofa. Nate’s arm snatched out to me, his fingers grabbing mine. “Madison, it’s not exactly as she—”

I shook my head, my eyes going to my mom. “I don’t even care anymore. Regardless of whatever this bullshit life is.” I swiped the tears away from my eyes, my heart aching in my chest. I was a fucking pity bitch. “It doesn’t matter because I’m used to it.” I glanced at my dad. “Why did you bring me back here? You knew the risk.”

“I love you Madison.” His hands dove into his pockets. “But I have an obligation to this life. I hated it, hated it so bad that I couldn’t be here to watch it unfold.” He sighed, massaging his head. “I quickly recognized the look in Bishop’s eyes. It was obvious his feelings were real, and then I witnessed the way you were with Nate and the rest of the Kings. I knew that something was about to change.”

I was speechless. The words I wanted to scream were caged in my mouth, leaving me parched and pleading for air.

My dad stood and pointed to the door. “Get the fuck out of my house, Elizabeth, and don’t ever come home.” I didn’t entirely understand why he was upset with her because he must’ve played a part in her faking her death, but whatever, I no longer cared.

I marched up to my room, dialed Tatum and sunk into my bed.

“I hate my life.”

“What?” she asked groggily. I must’ve woken her. “I’ll be there in a few.”

“You don’t have to,” I choked out, struggling to contain my pain.

“Fuck,” she cussed, then the line cut out. Dropping my arm to the side of my bed, I let the tears silently run down my face. My life was so messed up. Just when I thought I had something good going, something else was thrown from the left field. My chest tightened every time I thought of how stuck with me Bishop had been, and how he said his dad was one of the main reasons why I wasn’t killed. It all made stupid sense now and I hated it. I wished I was back to not knowing anything. There’s a light knock on my door.

“Mads, it’s me.”

I slid off my bed and opened the door for Tate, then shut, locked, and sunk back to my bed, wiping my tears angrily.

Once the blurs had disappeared, I pointed to the bags in her hands. “Whatcha got there?”

She held up the bags, and it was when I realized she was wearing her cotton pajama pants with little unicorns on them. Fluffy slippers covered her feet, and her blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun. I smiled, grateful, once again, for my best friend. She jumped onto my bed, took my phone from me and turned it off, and then snuggled into the covers.