Sancte Diaboli: Part Two (The Elite King's Club 7)

Madison grabs my hand as we jog up the stairs, bypassing photography. Women after women. “Is it just women who run Perdita?”

“Yep!” Tillie smiles. “I love this place. More than Nate would like to hear.” Her smile falls, but she guides me down the long hallway, to the end where a bedroom is.

She pushes through the door and closes it, flicking the lock. Madison’s phone blares off in the background and she answers it instantly, waving me toward the bathroom.

Suddenly, I don’t want to. It makes it real.

“Hey!” Tillie takes my hand and guides me to the doorway. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Tillie…” I shake my head with a heavy sadness. “Brantley will never want a child.”

“You don’t know that.” She rubs my back. “That grumpy motherfucker will probably make the best dad in the world.”

“He would, but he won’t want it.”

“Take the test. We will go from there.”

Brantley

I already knew about the curse and Veronica’s obsession with it. What I didn’t know was the length she would go just to “break it.” I trusted her. I fucking trusted her. The only person outside of my circle I trusted, and it wasn’t just any trust. It was a kind of trust that only came from years and years of labor.

“Madison is acting fucking weird.” Bishop ends the call, tossing his phone on the table that parts both our aisles.

“Is that uncommon, or?” Nate asks, sipping his vodka. “Just saying, Tillie has been the same.”

“Nah.” Bishop grinds his teeth. “She’s hiding something from me.”

“Why do you say that?” I ask, watching him carefully. This jet is filled up with all our front-line soldiers, excluding Eli. Spyder is near the front with his right hand, and a couple of Rebel members behind him. Yeah. Never would have thought I’d see the fucking day that a Rebel, well two, were sitting in the same jet as us. Who would have known?

“She was in a rush to get off the phone. Distant.”

“You have PTSD, bro,” Nate says, flicking his fingers up and down. “She’s run too much.” The sides of his jaw flex. I know Nate just hit the fucking point. I ignore them both and settle back into my seat.

“Shouldn’t you all be pissed that they went and saved her without you?” Spyder calls out from his chair. He and Tate have been flying back and forth since they landed in Perdita. He’s probably thankful she’s not with the girls right now and tucked away back on common ground.

Bishop answers smoothly, “No. I trust they’d keep each other safe. Ain’t no one love those girls more than us but each other.”

I know Saint is safe, and that’s enough for now. The next thing I have to think about is how I’m going to end Veronica.

Landing in Perdita isn’t for the weak. The plane always needs to dip and turn and twist. At one point, it feels like we’re about to tilt over. Nate hates it every time we come. The pretty little psycho has a fear of flying.

“Question,” I ask, kicking up my feet. We’re traveling straight to Valentina’s in the limo-style Hummer. These roads aren’t for the average car, considering we have to trench through bush to get to the mainland. They made it this way on purpose to protect the people. “If Tillie wants to take over this island, would you let her?”

Nate looks up from where he’s staring at the ground, his eyes coming to mine. “Never.” His head tilts. “Would you with Saint? Seems her speed. Seclusion, quiet…”

I clench my fist in my hand.

He chuckles and sits back in his seat. “Exactly.”

The trip continues, and twenty minutes later, we’re driving down the main strip of Perdita, heading right for the famed marble gates. The sun is beginning to set in the distance, and when we arrive, the guards who man the entry let us in with a nod. The gates separate, and right there standing on the front steps, ready to welcome us home, are all three of our women.

Saint

My throat dries as the black Hummer pulls down the drive, stopping outside the doors. Tillie squeezes my hand. “Should we tell him now?”

I shake my head. “No. He needs to be focused. This will stress him out.”

“Just to be clear.” Madison clears her throat, speaking from one side of her mouth. “I’m not very good at lying when Bishop is around. He can sniff out lies from my lips before I even speak them.”

“If you manage to slip, it’s fine. But please try. I’m—” Sweat beads around my brows, “simply not ready to tell him.”

They both squeeze my hands reassuringly, and I’m, once again, thankful for both of them. I sometimes wonder how I survived without them for so long. I understand what The Elite Kings’ world is like. How their rules work and boundaries are pushed. Maybe our connection isn’t all sexual like the older generations were, though I’m aware how close things have gotten between Nate and Madison and Tillie and Brantley. But maybe with us, it’s about a soul connection and not a sexual one.