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

“I swear to god!” Madison screams, but then she goes silent and I’m being thrown into the backseat of the SUV as if I weigh nothing.

“What the fuck!” I yell, but a rope is being tied around my neck and then—shit! It tightens and my breathing shallows. I start panicking, trying to suck in more air but I find the more I panic, the thicker my breathing. Sweat starts trickling down my temple. We’re driving away quickly and handcuffs are being clasped around my wrists. “Who the fuck are you?”

I’m met with silence again.

The drive carries on for another ten or so minutes before the SUV takes a hard left and the engine cuts out. Hands grip around my upper thighs and yank me down the seat.

A door opens behind me and I’m tossed out, rolling through loose branches and stones.

“You have about a ten-second head start…” The voice is filtered with a recorder.

“I don’t know where I’m going!” I yell, frustrated.

“Nine.”

I bolt forward, ignoring my fear of accidentally running straight off a cliff. Wind zaps past me.

Seven.

Six.

I start to count down as my legs pick up speed. The skies open up and thunder claps angrily just as the first droplets of rain begin trickling down my cheek.

I scream a little, taking a hard right. Blinded, I have no idea where I’m going, but I need to at least try to run. Something deep inside of my brain, though, is telling me that I shouldn’t have run. That maybe whoever it is, wanted me to run. Images of the man who called me that night and tried to get me into his SUV flash through my brain and fear ripples through me again as my legs gain speed.

One.

They’re coming. I’m battling with myself right now on what I should do. Hide, even if I don’t know if I’m really hiding, or keep running even though the fear of someone chasing me is enough to figuratively chop my legs off. Before I can take another step, a body crashes down behind me and then I’m falling, mud sloshing against my chest.

My voice challenges the rain hitting curved leaves and rocks as I scream, “What do you want!”

The rope that’s tied around the sack over my head loosens, the handcuffs unlatching from my wrists. I tear the sack from my head and let the darkness of the forest fall over me. Holy crap. Rain pours over my face and leaks into my eyes, my hair matted down against my cheeks.

“What aren’t you telling me, princess…”

“Nate!” I yelp, but he shoves my face into the ground again, turning me around onto my back. Pressing his forearm into my throat, my eyes search his frantically. “What do you mean!”

“I know you’re walking us into a trap, Tillie. You showing up out of nowhere, calm and collected about your psycho sister stealing Micaela, it doesn’t fucking piece up right.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

He shoves me again, his mouth coming down to the side of my neck. “Don’t lie to me, Tillie.”

“I’m not!” I yell, rearing up to his face until our nose tips touching. “I fucking said I’m not lying to you, Nate. She took her, and then dumped me back at Madison’s. What more do you want from me?”

“Is that a serious question?” He growls, and my heart thunders in my chest at the soft caress of his fingertip sliding over my collarbone. “Because right now.” He grinds himself against me. I slam my eyes closed in an attempt to mentally remove myself from the onslaught of sensations that he’s thrashing into me. “There’s a whole fucking lot that I want from you that what you’ve had a taste of wouldn’t even classify as a snack.”

I yank my face away from him. “Your games aren’t going to work on me, Nate. I’m not one of your preppy princesses. You can’t break what you didn’t build.”

He chuckles, and then he wraps his fingers around my chin, yanking my face up so that I’m glaring right at him. “You saying I haven’t contributed to the fucked-up shit that goes on in that pretty little head, princess, huh?”

I narrow my eyes. “I didn’t say that, but you didn’t break me, Nate. I was damaged when you found me, you just inflicted more scars.” I’m frustrated with his weight pressing down on me. Not frustrated because I want him to get off but frustrated because I don’t want him to get off.

He pauses, his jaw clenching. Water drips down from his hair and falls onto my lip. I lick it off until the taste of his conditioner or whatever it is that he has in his hair slips down my throat. “You. Ran.” The words leave his mouth through pained lips, and it momentarily stops all of my thought processes.