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

Should I tell him about that first night and the call I got telling me to go outside before all of this Peyton stuff blew up. I decide no. “No, why?”

His jaw ticks in that same way that makes his already prominently square jaw enlarge slightly. “Nothing, it’s just dangerous right now and there’s shit happening behind the scenes that I can’t tell you about just yet. When I can, I will.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “I’m not Madison, Nate, I don’t sit well with secrets. You either tell me or shut up.”

His eyes cut to me. “You will fucking do as you’re told because it’s not just you anymore, Tillie. You—we—have to think of her!”

I know he’s right, so I don’t answer. He stands, coming directly in front of me. The zipper of his jeans is now directly opposite my eyes. Shit. His hand comes to my chin and he tilts my head up to face him. I feel miniscule down here. I tug my lip into my mouth and his thumb follows the movement.

“Fuck.” He exhales and turns to leave. I watch as he slowly disappears into the dark night. I stay seated until I hear his loud car start and drive off.

What the hell was that about?

Leaving it all alone, I go back into the pool house, flopping onto my bed. I flick through Netflix, trying to find a show to watch when eventually, my eyelids feel heavy and sleep takes me under.

Tillie

Pandas are dancing to an annoying tune. A tune I know, wait, I know this song. I aimlessly fling my arm around, trying to find my phone on the bedside table. Without opening my eyes, I sink into the bed more, sliding it to answer.

“Someone better be dead,” I grumble, annoyed.

“Someone will be if you don’t get down here—now, Tillie,” Madison rushes, her tone has me on edge, but not enough to leave the comfort of my bed.

“What time is it? And I told you, I’m not coming.”

“Tillie! Nate is drunk as fuck and he’s fighting. I need you to get down here now.”

“What the hell makes you think I can stop him?”

She pauses, seeming to think of what to say. Or what to lie about. I rub the sleep from my eyes. “Because I know!”

I fling my blankets off my body. Annoyed that he’s interrupted my sleep. “Fine! Where are you guys?”

“At Brantley’s, and Tillie, I’m serious, hurry.”

I get a Snapchat notification from Tate. I open it and see Nate with no shirt on and blood smeared over his chest, his jeans hanging off his waist. When she zooms in, he’s laughing, but his eyes are wild. He’s absolutely drunk. Drunk and crazy. I don’t know if it’s a good idea I go… then the phone drops and there’s a guy not moving on the ground with people crowding around him. The guy finally gets up, but he’s in a bad way.

“Who’s next?” Nate grins, his arms stretched wide.

I shoot off the bed and bolt out the door to the main house. God, I really don’t want to do this, but I have no other choice, thanks to her crazy ass son.

Knocking on Elena and Joseph’s door, I yell, “Elena?”

The door opens after a few seconds and she wipes the sleep from her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, careful not to wake Joseph. “But Madison just called me, and Nate is drunk and fighting people and for some reason, she thinks I can help. Can y—”

Her eyes pop open. “—Shit. Yes, go.” She pauses just before I go back to the room to get changed. “Tillie? Be careful when he’s like this…”

I try to push down the fear that comes to the surface at her warning, and then nod and run back to my room.

I throw on my black yoga pants and my Harley t-shirt, tucking it in slightly on the side. Tying up my Chucks, I pile my hair into a high ponytail and grab the keys.

God. I have a really bad feeling about this.

I get to Brantley’s in record time. Jumping out of the truck, I quickly run into the house, shoving past the bodies of teenagers. People start moving for me when they recognize who I am. Walking past a group of girls, one with sleek black hair snickers to her friend. “That’s his baby mama. Tragic, really, that she tried to lock him down…”

I bite my tongue, moving to outside. The cool air is welcome after the humidity of ass and sweat in the house. “Crank That” by Travis Barker is roaring through the speakers and my head snaps to the circle of people behind the pool. I can’t see anything clearly, so I quickly start to make my way when Madison’s face appears.

“Thank fuck!” She yanks me toward the crowd.