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

Madison jogs out of her house, down the steps and climbs into the passenger seat. I don’t like this house. It holds too many bad memories. This is the exact place the hearse was parked not long ago.

I gulp, turning the radio down so we can talk.

“You stole Brantley’s car?” Madison smirks as she piles her long hair onto the top of her head. “I’m impressed.”

I shift it into gear and press on the accelerator. “I didn’t steal it. He let me use it.”

“Wow,” Madison murmurs. “That’s weird.”

She doesn’t understand and that’s okay. To her, Brantley is still the big bad wolf, which he is, he just doesn’t huff and puff my house down.

“I need to buy a car and clothes, including something to wear tonight,” I say, driving us onto the main highway.

She clears her throat. “How has he been?”

“Well,” I say, shuffling uncomfortably. “He came down to my room this morning to talk, and then Eli walked in and it didn’t look good. I was in a towel because I just got out of the shower and it was right at a moment that Bishop was standing directly in front of me.”

I turn toward her slightly to find her arms crossed and her eyes following the trees outside.

“Nothing happened,” I clarify, feeling the need to defend myself.

She turns to face me. “I know. I know you’d never do that. But I’m worried that he’s going to go to someone like Tate, who would do that.”

“Why do we keep this bitch around?” I grumble under my breath. “You think she would do that to you?” I mean, I know that she did it to me, but I’m not as close to her as Madison.

“She did it to you,” Madison gapes at me.

“Well, I think you need to come clean about what happened before he does something that he’s going to regret, ya know?”

She exhales. “Yeah, I know.”

“Can you tell me anything else about what happened?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

I sigh. “Okay. Well, let’s go spend my mother’s money.”

Madison laughs, her face changing. It’s like old Madison is fighting to come through.

We end up at Porsche.

Why am I at Porsche?

“Buy it,” Madison says, sucking her iced caramel macchiato. “I’m serious. I think you should.”

The car salesman looks between both of us. “Are you old enough?”

I roll my eyes, pulling my card out of my wallet. “Yes.”

He takes the card with his chubby fingers, greed lighting up his eyes. “And ID please, ma’am.”

I hand him my ID.

He nods, reading it quickly and matching the two names on the cards. I watch as excitement takes over full force and he straightens his back. “So the 918 Spyder?”

I pinch my lips.

“Yes,” Madison agrees, hooking her arm in mine. “And we should get it wrapped in pink! To match your hair!”

“No!” I snap at the salesman. “Please don’t do that and ignore my friend.”

“What color would you like? If you want a custom color, we can get that done and have the car shipped to you in a few business days. As well as any other modifications that you’d want.”

I think over his words. “I just want it fast.”

He nods. “We can add in—” He loses me with all the engine mods that he yaps on about.

I smirk, my eyes going to the car. “I want it red. Blood red.”

He pauses and then gawks between me and the car. “Done.”

We enter his office and I fill out the paperwork. Paying for something that is ridiculous but makes me happy. This is her money that she left me, and it’s enough to last me until I die while buying one of these a day, but I still don’t feel like it’s mine.

We leave town, dresses, new makeup, and shoes filling up the trunk—as well as the whole backseat of Brantley’s car. Mine won’t be here for another three days, which is fine by me. As long as it’s on the way.

“Where to now?” Madison asks, dropping her sunglasses down over her eyes.

I have a thought and smirk. “Wanna come to a masquerade party tonight as my date?”

She grins at me. “Why I would love to…”

Nate

I’m lounging on the sofa in Brantley’s lounge, a glass of whiskey dangling between my fingers and my tie ripped loose around my neck. My mask lays on my leg, the white bone of my ancestors sitting there, staring at me and taunting me. The last time I wore it, I had Micaela in one arm and Tillie under my other.

I shoot back the whiskey, letting the burn rip through my throat.

“Did you hear?” Brantley mutters, walking in while ripping off his tie and tossing it across the room. He loosens the first few buttons of his collar and rolls the sleeves up of his shirt. “Tillie is bringing Madison tonight as her date.”