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

“Nate, son, I need to know where your head is with this?” Hector demands from his leather chair. He leans back, rolling a cigar between his teeth.

My head is between Tillie’s legs. “I’m in.”

Hector leans forward and Bishop shuffles beside me. The Kings are sprawled out everywhere in his office. “Are you sure? This is a touchy scene with you, what with the involvement of your old man…”

I shrug. “I don’t give a fuck about him. I’m in.”

Hector watches me, his eyes darting between mine. “Alright, son. I trust that you’re ready for this.”

Am I? I haven’t seen my father since I was probably around three years old. The memory is brief but vivid.

“You shouldn’t be here. I told you not to come!” I heard my mom whisper out harshly, closing the door slightly and standing between the crack. I didn’t know who she was talking with, but I sat on the top of the stairs and peeked through the barrier. There was a man dressed in a dark suit. He had a funny hat on his head, one that looked like Freddy Krueger. He mumbled something and my mother’s body visibly froze. She stepped backward to slam the door in his face, but his eyes shoot up to mine just in time.

“Out of curiosity, why him?” I ask, running my finger over my upper lip. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t care, but I just want to know why him.”

Hector seems to ponder my words. He’s good at that, making you think you have him worked out, or at the very least, working him out.

“Because there’s only one man walking this earth that holds about as much power as I do, and that’s your dad. But the difference between him and I is that I have morals. I care for the legacy in our world—he doesn’t.”

I let his words fly over my shoulder.

“So you want me to kill my old man?” I ask, my eyebrow cocked.

Hector shakes his head. “You can’t kill someone who lives incognito. No one knows where he is, all we know is that he has his own people. Different from our people.”

“So he has The Circle?” Bishop asks, throwing out the question that we all want the answer to.

Hector nods, flicking the ash off of his cigar. “Yes, but more than that, he has the Rebels.” The Rebels are old Kings who have done something to break one of the Elite Commandments and have been exiled from their position, whereas The Circle are Kings who have left by choice. It’s not ideal to leave The Kings, and is actually fucking frowned upon, but the men who occupy The Circle have warranted reasons as to why they have left.

Hector continues. “The only way that this will work in our favor is if we had Perdita, but we don’t completely because of how Katsia was killed. We’re lucky they’re somewhat taking orders from Khales, but that won’t last long. I think the majority of the reason as to why they are, is in an attempt to keep the island contained and their people safe. Right now, no one is working against The Kings, and they won’t—mainly because they’re smart but a little because they don’t have the numbers.” He looks directly at me. “Gabriel Malum is on a different spectrum. He can’t be killed, and we don’t want him killed. He’d be much better as an ally until we get Perdita under control. There are a whole lot of Lost Boys and no one to run them. The island itself is being held up by Khales, as you all know, but like I said, that can’t be a permanent thing—as much as she would love to have that power—it’s not hers to take.”

I kick out my leg, mulling over his words. “So put Peyton on there. Only we know that she’s not Katsia’s real daughter. They don’t need to know that and she’s still under our control.”

Hector eyes me. “She has run. We’re in the middle of finding her, but it seems she has a very good hacker in her pocket that deletes every single CCTV footage of her when it comes up.”

I let out a soft growl, fucking annoyed that I let him talk me into keeping her alive. The only reason she has the legs she ran away on is because I didn’t fucking snap them. Now I’m irked. Ignoring that, I turn to look at Hector.

“Where do you want me to meet Gabriel?”

Tillie

“Ah…ah…” I blow soft raspberries on Micaela’s bare stomach. She’s almost five months now and is getting more and more beautiful as the days go on. She reminds me so much of Nate, without the annoying parts.

My phone vibrates in my back pocket. I grab it out, still talking to Micaela. The number is strange.