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

I lean up on my tiptoes, pressing Jase’s cheek to my tongue, licking him down to his neck. Then I bring my hand down and watch as her eyes follow, pain flashing through them within a blink. I fucking knew it. Knew she was still in love with him. I reach into the waistband of his jeans and grab his cock. I feel it harden and grow in the palm of my hand and he lets out a soft growl. “Fuck.”

I start stroking him over his boxer briefs. Her eyes flare. She launches at me like a fucking crazed crack head. We both stumble to the ground with her on top of me, her fist connecting with my cheek. I laugh.

“Bro…” someone says.

“Leave her,” Nate mutters.

She goes to hit me again, but I smack her fist out of my way while my other hand flies to her throat. I squeeze so roughly my nails sink into the flesh of her neck. I lock my grip further, until I feel blood slowly trickling down my fingertips. My laughing stops and her hitting stops, and everything fucking stops, because motherfucking terror is here.

“You kill my daughter and have the nerve to fucking hit me?”

Keeping my grip firmly on her throat, I shove her off me and stand to my feet as she remains on her knees, peering up at me like I’m motherfucking Mary and she’s confessing all her sins.

“Nate…” I call for him softly, an unspoken question passing between the two of us.

“You got it, baby.”

I grip harder until I feel the muscles and tissue beneath her skin click and her face turn puffy. Leaning down, my eyes search hers.

“Look at me, Peyton.”

Her eyes fly to mine as I squeeze harder, then I slam her onto her back and climb onto her chest. I press down brutally until I know her airways are blocked off.

“You suffocated my little girl. You knew she was dying under your action.”

Tears start streaming down my face as my heart once again splits open from what Peyton had done. How could you kill a baby?

“You showed no mercy. You were relentless. Now it’s my turn. Open your eyes, so I can watch as the life slips from your worthless body and your soul gets dragged to hell.”

Her face is purple now, the result of her gasping for air with desperation. Memories attempt to flash in my head of us when we were little, but at the end of every memory, all I wish for is that I had killed her back then. Her eyes start rolling back and I lean into her ear, my grip remorseless.

“I’ll be here until my fucking hand cramps, Peyton. Can you feel your organs shutting down? Your heart slowing as it takes its final beats? The blood desperately crashing through your veins, chasing life it doesn’t deserve?”

Her body feels limp and I lean back, her head fallen to the side, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. I thought it would be satisfying, putting an end to her, and it somewhat is. But I still have anger inside of me. She still got out of that too easy.

“I’ll meet you in hell, bitch.” I spit on her face just as arms wrap around my stomach, bringing me to my feet. I don’t have to look back to know that it’s Nate. My body responds to him whether I want it to or not.

“It’s done.” He kisses my nape. “But I need to leave my mark.”

I step backward, gesturing to her dead corpse. “Be my guest.”

Nate steps forward, removing his shirt and giving it to me. A small gesture that means so much. He’s calculating, flicking an army knife between his fingers. He leans over the top of her and cuts her shirt off. I watch as he sinks the knife into her chest, over her sternum, and slices her with seamless precision, all the way down to her belly button. My stomach churns, so I look away for a second. When I hear slushing, gushing and heavy things falling to the concrete floor, I close my eyes. Don’t do it. Don’t look at what he’s doing. The room is silent, with nothing but the sound of, what I’m guessing is organs falling to the ground and the strong scent of metal suffocating me. I hold my breath. But I feel him in front of me. My eyes slowly open and find their way up to him. He’s watching me carefully, searching mine with something else this time. Peace? Tranquility?

“Kiss me,” he whispers.

I can see the blood on his chest, but I don’t care. I lean up on my tiptoes and crash my lips against his. He doesn’t move into me. He simply opens his mouth wide and licks me across my lips as I devour him. Losing myself in all that is him. He consumes me more than anything in this world, the feeling is stronger than love. It’s stronger than hate, or pain. He smothers me and owns every single bit of who I am. Something wet, hard, and heavy drops into my palms and I pull away out of instinct, but his hand grabs mine, forcing it back on. I squirm, my lips moving against his.