Malum: Part 2 (The Elite King's Club 5)

Bishop grins. “That, and the fact that I can’t have you running back to Madison and spilling all of our secrets.”

I freeze this time, balling my fists under the table. “She doesn’t know about Daemon, does she?”

Bishop runs his index finger over his upper lip, shaking his head with a smirk. “Nope.”

“Why are you doing this to her, Bishop? You guys are solid. Set in stone. Fucking Madshop. Why?”

He seems to ponder over my words and then leans back in his seat. “You wanna know why we’re fighting so much lately?”

“Yes. I do.” Even though I know he’s not going to tell me. Bishop always answers a question with a question, or words his answers in a way that you don’t understand.

Bishop opens his mouth, and then just when he’s about to say something, fucking Nate steps in and interferes. “—Don’t.”

Bishop instantly looks to Nate, and I watch as Bishop’s hard exterior slowly melts away and for a second, he looks vulnerable. Hurt. Deceived. God, Madison. What did you do?

Bishop shakes himself off and then shrugs. “Fine. But she’s going to find out sooner or later. You can’t protect her from everything, Nate.”

I scoff, because Bishop must be on some A-class shit to say that. Only I know that he is.

Abel, who has been quiet, finally speaks. “Where does this leave me?”

Bishop looks back at him and licks his lips. “How do you feel about the sight of blood?”

Nate

I run my fingers through my hair, watching the sun set over the trees behind the mansion. I fucking hate staying on Perdita for longer than a day, but we’re in day two and I’m getting fucking cabin fever. I mean, I’m about to slaughter some fucks if they say the wrong thing. Bishop let them out of the cells. Keeping Abel locked in a cell wasn’t our play, it was Khales. We don’t see either of them as a threat, and there’s no way they can get out of this house, let alone off this fucking island.

I hear the bedroom door open and close behind me, and then a tumbler glass of whiskey on ice coming into view. “Think she will work out what we’re doing?”

I take the glass from Brantley and bring it to my lips, shooting it back. “Yup. She’s fucking smart. Way smarter than anyone we’ve ever had around.”

“Agreed…” Brantley nods.

“But she can’t know what we know. She will get reckless in her revenge and we can’t have that.”

Brantley leans forward, resting his arms on the barrier. “Also agreed.”

“You care about her….” I try the unspoken words on the tip of my tongue. Don’t much like how they taste.

Brantley chuckles, shaking his head and hanging it between his arms. “No. I don’t think I care about her, but I also feel a little bit protective over her. If that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t.” I sigh. “But I get it, man. Who would have thought, though. Out of everyone…”

“That she’d be the one who would pull on my rusted strings?”

We both laugh. “Yeah. Exactly. Was beginning to think you were built without those…”

Brantley’s jaw clenches. “Yeah, unfortunately, I am.”

“So we agree?” I add, watching him carefully. “She isn’t going to know?”

Brantley nods. “Yeah. We all agree. Right now isn’t the time. It might make her worse.”

Her being worse than she is now isn’t something anyone wants.

Tillie

I run my finger down his skull, over the lumps where the stitches were. “I’m sorry, Daemon.”

He cranks his head, and I watch as his slim neck glistens under the candlelight in the room Nate put me in. Technically, Daemon should be in his room, but he and I have too much to talk about. I’ve yet to tell him about Micaela, which I’m dreading.

I climb off the bed and kneel down in front of him, where he’s sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed. I search his eyes, black orbs that any other person would be afraid to look into. They’re someone’s nightmare, but my fantasy.

“I found your book, Daemon…”

He searches my eyes, and it’s the first time I’ve noticed his hair. They must have had to shave it all off for surgery. It’s not as short as it probably was, now it looks more like a military cut. It hardens his handsome features.

“I know, Puella.”

“Do you need to tell me something?”

He opens his mouth and then closes it. “Yes, but—”

I lean forward, running my finger over his bottom lip. “I need to tell you something too, Daemon.” My throat swells before I’ve even so much as flicked my tongue over the first syllable. He doesn’t speak. He merely watches me with fascination. God, he’s so beautiful. Too beautiful for earth, but too haunted for hell. “She passed away.” It’s the first time that the words have been on my tongue, threatening to slice me across the heart.