Malum: Part 1 (The Elite King's Club 4)

My lip curls. “For a smart fucker, you sure say some dumb shit.”

He pulls out a pack of smokes and lights up. I crank our windows down and blaze a joint to counter the smell of nicotine.

“So we just gonna stay here until they’re done?”

I blow out a cloud of smoke. “Yup. Then I’m going to fuck with her for a bit until we leave. She’s hiding something and I ain’t about to walk into a fucking trap.”

Brantley grins around the cancer stick between his lips. “Got any ideas?”

I lick my lips and smirk. “Yeah, Tillie is the opposite of Madison when it comes to fear. Madison cowers, gets scared and does a bunch of dumb shit that would have gotten any other girl murdered on the spot.”

Brantley turns his attention to me. “And what does Tillie do?”

Tillie

“You know, for a brunette, your hair is pretty high maintenance,” I tsk Madison as we’re leaving the salon. The sun is setting in the background, igniting burnt hues in the sky. It’s beautiful the way it kisses over your skin.

“Because it’s not brunette, you heard her, it has tints of red in it too…”

I roll my eyes. “This is why I have pink hair. When it runs out, it has a faded punk look that is totally okay to rock.”

Madison clears her throat. “For you!” She beeps her pretty turquoise Ferrari and I slide into the passenger seat. I want to ask why she’s not asking me about Micaela, but deep down I already know why. It’s because she has complete faith in Bishop.

“I’m naturally blonde so I guess it’s fine. Have you heard from Tatum?”

We’ve been dancing around the T-word all day and I’ve noticed how any time I even steer the conversation toward her, Madison clams up.

“She’ll be coming over tonight, actually, and she’s okay. I just don’t want it to be weird between the two of you, you know?” Madison drives us out of the parking lot outside the salon.

“It won’t be. Honestly, Madz, Nate is not my property. If they could just not rub it in my face, though, that would be great.”

Madison doesn’t answer, turning the stereo on. I get it. I know that it must be hard for her to be in the middle of this cluster fuck, and deep down I know I’m the outsider out of the three. They say three’s a crowd, and even though Madison does her best to not let it fall that way, it doesn’t stop how I feel when her and Tate are together. They just…exist with each other. And although Madison and I have a bond and so do Tate and I, I haven’t really felt like I fit into the puzzle when we’re all together at once. Or maybe that’s just my own insecurities getting the best of me.

Madison growls and then hits the stereo before pulling onto the shoulder of a gravel road. I look out the window, the angry sky now dark enough to awaken nocturnal creatures.

I shiver. “What are you doing?”

“Here’s the thing,” Madison declares. “I love you, and you know this. I also love Tate, and I hate lying to either of you. She loves you too, just saying, but—”

“—But what?” I urge, wishing she would just spit it out.

“I can’t breathe.” She flings her seatbelt off and launches out the car door. I follow, unclipping my belt and stepping outside. The temperature this time of year in New York isn’t cold but isn’t warm, though tonight it feels a little chillier with the strong gusts of wind smashing through my hair. “Madison!” She’s pacing back and forth in front of the car, the headlights the only way to see.

A big semi-truck flies passed us, flicking my freshly washed and salon dried hair up around my face. “Seriously, Madz, can we do this in the car? We just spent that money at the salon, or rather, you did…”

“She’s in love with him!” Madison spins around, her hands flailing around the place. “God, I’m so sorry, Tillie, but she’s in love with him. Like she cannot let it go in love with him.”

Okay, so they were obviously more serious than I thought.

I lean back on her car, blowing out a gust of breath and folding my arms in front of myself. “Well, that’s fine.”

“No,” Madison shakes her head. “You see because h—”

A large black SUV pulls up behind our car and I turn toward it, shading the headlights with my hand.

“Tillie, get in the car,” she murmurs softly, and I watch as her face morphs from anger to complete and utter fear.

“What?” I turn toward the SUV before coming back to her. “Why?”

Her face pales and she springs forward, but it’s too late, a hand is covering my mouth and a black sack is being shoved over my head. I scream, kicking and punching thin air.