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

I can only make out the sharp edges of his sharp jaw because he’s wearing a black Nike hoodie and cap on his head, covering his face. He’s wearing dark ripped jeans and combat boots. His jaw is set in stone, and even though I can’t see his eyes, I know that I don’t want to. I don’t want to because the one thing, person, that Nate cherished and loved more than anyone in this world is now gone. I fear for what is going to be left of him now.

The boys go to the back of the hearse and the director steps away, sensing the sudden hostility. I step backward, my back crashing against the house. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. I watch as the boys surround the back of the car like a pack of loyal wolves, and then Nate pulls at something softly, and the small pink casket comes slightly into view. I burst into tears, my hand coming to my chest to rip my heart out so it can stop hurting. I can’t do this. I can’t survive this. I squeeze my eyes shut, and practice my breathing again, only when I open them, my eyes come straight to the sight in front of me. Nate at the front of the coffin, holding the top right, Bishop behind him holding the bottom right, Brantley at the top left, and then Cash behind him, holding the back. I’m too busy zoned in on the coffin, that when I look up to Nate, I freeze. He’s already glaring at me, the rim of his hoodie draped over the better part of his eyes.

His lip curls.

There’s my answer.

I shiver, straighten my shoulders and wait for them as they pass me and head into the house. I follow behind them until I reach the kitchen. I know that Elena said that they’ll keep her casket closed, because I pushed it. I don’t want everyone to have the last memory of her being what she is now. I want them to remember her bright smiles.

Heading straight for the sitting room, the boys have already placed her small casket onto the stand, for a moment, I test my control, my eyelashes fluttering closed. I can’t contain the pain anymore. I can’t do anything. I know that this is a time to be strong, but I feel like I’m walking around soulless. A mask of absolute tragedy. Everyone is watching me, waiting for my reaction. I hate it. Despise it. She was the one person I had in my life who was a constant. She was my forever. I step backward, shaking my head as my heart seizes in my chest. I back into something hard and arms come around my stomach.

“Come sit down.” Brantley’s voice utters into my ear. He takes my hand with his and drags me toward the over-sized U-shaped lounge that has been moved to face the casket. Brantley takes a seat and then yanks me down beside him. My eyes go to Nate, who is sitting beside the coffin, his elbows resting on it and his hands buried over his face. He doesn’t move. He stays in that position. Stationary.

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

When Brantley doesn’t answer, I look directly at him. His face is an inch away from mine, his warm breath cascading over my swollen lips.

He licks his and then bites down. “You won’t. It will always be there, but it won’t always hurt this bad.”

“Bullshit, Brantley.” I take my eyes away from his, back to Nate. He’s laying his head on the casket now, his head facing the opposite way to us. “I’m scared for him.”

Brantley leans back on the sofa, his arm coming behind me. “You should be.”

Madison and Bishop walk in and come sit beside me. Madison’s hand rests on my knee. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Nothing will be nice,” I answer, sick of talking and answering questions.

“Okay,” she whispers, leaning her head on my shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do the burial tomorrow?”

I nod, my face blank. “Yes.”

I shoot up from the couch and make my way into the kitchen. I start rustling through the cupboards in search of an old friend.

“Jack. Hello.” I twist and flip the cap off, taking down a tumbler glass and pouring to the rim. Leaving the bottle there, I head back into the sitting room and flop down beside Brantley again, who is eyeing the glass skeptically.

“Now is not the time to be looking like that,” I snap without looking at him. “You know better.”

He snorts. “I’m not judging. Hell no.”

I lick the hot liquid off my lips and look at him. I mean, really look at him. His brazen prominent jaw and swollen lips. His ink dark eyelashes and eyebrows, and the way his skin looks as though he’s been baking in the sun for a couple of days. That’s just Brantley though. Then his eyes come directly to mine.