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

“She fucking stopped here. At this level,” Brantley murmurs.

I narrow my eyes at the stairwell, the light illuminating like a beacon of fuck knows what. I take a step forward.

“Yo! Nate!” Cash hollers from behind me, but I ignore him.

“She took the fucking stairs,” I mutter, my feet kicking up in speeds I didn’t know I had.

“Nate!” Bishop barks from behind me, but Brantley is right there beside me.

“She took the motherfucking stairs!” I yell, anger gripping at my bones.

“She’s way too fucking smart for even us,” Brantley grunts from beside me. “Fucking terror she is.”

We climb the stairs, taking two at a time until we reach the door to level twenty-one.

I yank it open and slowly step forward.

Silence.

Pure and utter silence.

I turn to face the rest of The Kings as they all begin to file through one by one.

Bishop’s eyes come to mine, his head tilting.

“This level?” he whispers as he comes closer.

I nod. “Yeah. Pretty sure.”

I point to each door and set them all at a door each, and then press my ears to number 401.

Tillie

“Jesus Christ,” I pace back and forth in the bedroom, dangling the knife in my hand. I don’t know why, but I feel the need to whisper.

I stop and turn to her. “Did you kill him?”

She shakes her head. “No. I just cut him a little…”

My eyes search her blood sodden hands and then land back on hers. “Sure.” I fling the knife up and down her body. “Just a little.” I sigh. “Where is he?”

Madison looks up at me with doe eyes, pointing toward the master bedroom that’s behind a sliding door that separates the lounge and bedroom. “In the bathroom. Bleeding out.”

I wander toward the door. “Can I ask why you decided to cut this man?”

Madison’s face falls. “It’s him, Tillie…”

“Wait.” I stop, turning to face her. “You mean him him?”

She nods her head. “Yeah. It’s him. I still don’t know who he is working for or why, but it’s him.”

I flip the knife between my fingertips. I’ve heard of the crazy shit that Madison did to Brantley’s dad, so I know the actual cutting isn’t what actually upset her. It’s what happened to cause the cutting.

I stop flinging the knife and slide the doors open with my feet, not wanting fingerprints. Sighing, I head straight for the bathroom. I can smell the metallic tang of blood well before I reach the door, but I kick it open anyway, the loud crashing from it hitting the back of the wall echoing through the bedroom.

Oops.

I look down at the man in the bathtub. He’s good looking. Young too.

When he sees me, his eyes go wide.

I kneel down to his level, running the knife up and down his chest while attempting to keep my anger in check.

He hurt my friend.

“What’s your name?” I ask, kicking the door closed with the back of my foot. I lean back and hook the latch to lock it. I know what Madison is capable of, but I want to make sure she doesn’t need to carry it all. What’s one more sin to add to the ever growing pile of reasons why I’m so fucking mentally unstable?

“Joshua.”

“Joshua.” I run the pointed edge of the knife down his chest and then smirk. “Hmmm, and you like getting girls naked, Joshua? Hmm?”

I stand, placing the knife on the towel rack while stepping backward. The bottom of my dress has already been smudged in the blood that’s on the floor.

He doesn’t answer, but that’s okay. I don’t need him to answer. I slowly zip the dress down until it falls to a pile at my feet. I didn’t think this through, how am I going to leave with no clothes on? Too far in to back out now.

“Do you like this, Joshua? Hmmm?” I ask, my head tilting while I gesture to my half-naked body.

When I say half-naked, I mean half-naked, wearing nothing but a bra, courtesy of my slutty dress that didn’t allow me to wear panties.

Madison knocks on the door.

I ignore her.

“Am I not naked enough for you?”

My arm twists to the back and unclasps my bra. It falls to the floor. Now I’m standing here naked. Completely.

“Is this better?” I ask him, but blood is coming out of his mouth so he can’t answer.

I lick my lips, stepping into the bathtub with him, letting the deep tang of metal drift over the top of my head. I can still feel Nate’s cum dripping down my inner thighs.

But everything is blank.

I don’t care.

I run the tip of the knife down his pretty face.

“Why do you look so familiar?”

I continue down past his jaw and to his throat. I press the blade to it.

“Why did you rape my friend?”

He doesn’t answer, more blood spilling between his lips.

He’s dying.

He’s not going to say anything.