Malum

Tillie

I knocked three times with no answer, so I sink onto the cool steps in front of my best friend’s plantation-style mansion. There have been so many times that I’ve been on these steps, and not one time did they ever feel empty like they did now. Wind whisks through the trees that line her long circle driveway, causing the spray from the water fountain to splash against my face in light misty waves.

Madison was raised with money, but make no mistake, her life was not privileged. I think that’s why she and I clicked so hard and so fast. Her other best friend, Tate, on the other hand…

I don’t have anything against Tate, but she is everything you would expect from a rich bitch who was raised with a gold (that’s right, not silver, gold), spoon in her mouth, but even when Tate and I don’t see eye-to-eye, we still have a common ground to form a bond on—Madison.

I sink my face into the palms of my hands, for the first time, reality starts really sinking in. She took my daughter. My sister is undeniably fucking crazy, and there’s a very real possibility that she could harm her if I don’t do exactly as I’m told.

I lost Daemon.

I lost my sister—somewhat.

I lost my daughter.

I have no one. I am no one. Nate is going to hate me for thinking I ran with his daughter, and if he doesn’t already, he sure will when all of the truth comes out. Either way, I can’t win and the walls inside my head feel as though they’re closing in on me.

I hear a car pull up, headlights sneaking through the cracks of my fingers. I swipe the tears off my cheeks and zero in on the car. A matte black Audi comes into view with the license plate “KINGII.” My heart thunders in my chest. There’s only one person who would have that license plate.

Nate.

I shoot up from the step, swiping the fresh tears from my eyes. A car door slams shut, and then another with heels clicking against the stone driveway. I know instantly that that wouldn’t be Madison because she doesn’t wear heels. It could be Tate. I choose to ignore all theories and remain focused.

“Tillie?” His steps are slow, calculated. I can’t see anything else but the outline of him. He’s wearing dark jeans, heavy boots, and a leather jacket with a hoodie underneath.

I clear my throat, thankful that I can’t see his face, or his eyes. “She took her, Nate, and she’s not giving her back.”

He pauses and then cranks his head over his shoulder. “Get the fuck back in the car.”

I wince at the tone, only to realize for once, it’s not aimed at me. He turns back to me. “What do you mean she took her?”

I can’t stop the tears now, they’re free-falling all over the place. I try to swipe them away, angry at the fact that my body might be doing it robotically from Peyton ordering me to show up all damsel in distress. “Peyton took Micaela and she’s not g—” I choke on my words, a hiccup interfering my speech. “Giving her back.”

Nate flies forward, his hand coming to mine instantly. He pulls me into his chest. I didn’t expect it. My body turns rigid.

His hand comes to my chin, and he squeezes so roughly that I flinch. This, I expected. He yanks my head up to face him. I see his eyes now, at least the curve of them. “If I find out that you’re lying to me, Tillie, regardless whether we have a child together, I’ll fucking kill you, do you understand? Don’t fuck with me when it comes to Micaela, Tillie. I swear to God…”

“Nate!” Madison’s voice claps through the air like a bolt of lightning.

I pull my face out of his grip just as Madison pushes him to the side where he falls beside me lazily. “Oh my god!” she screams, her hands coming to my face. “I tried to tell them that you wouldn’t run. I told them…”

I exhale my held reprieve, pulling her in for a hug. “I wouldn’t run, Madison, but Peyton has Micaela and she’s not giving her back. I can’t do anything, I’m powerless.” It’s not a lie.

Madison turns to face Bishop and then turns her head toward the house. “Come on. We can talk more inside. Nate!” she snaps at Nate as he’s walking toward the house. “Get rid of your ho.”

He flips her off, and then pushes a couple of fingers into his mouth, whistling out. I watch as a blonde girl crawls out of the passenger side of his car. “Yeah?”

Oh glorious, she actually responds to his dog antics. Gross.

“Find a ride home.” He turns, dismissing her.

“Good to see he hasn’t changed much,” I mutter under my breath.

Madison scoffs, hooking her arm in mine. “Oh, he has changed. He has gotten worse.”

Pulling out one of the bar stools that are tucked under the oversized granite kitchen counter, I slide on top, picking up the glass of whiskey Madison has poured.

“Just saying, aren’t you both too young to be starting this…” Bishop points to the glasses.

Madison shoots him a glare.

His hands come up in defense. “Alright, alright.”

“Talk, Tillie. Quit fucking stalling.” That’s Nate.

I take a long shot of the amber liquid, letting it rest on my tongue before throwing it back and relishing in its scorching travels down my throat before it blisters in my belly. “She took our daughter and she will not give her back. After Daemon’s funeral, she had us locked up in a place in New York City. I’m not sure where it is or what it is, because when they’d transport me, I’d be blindfolded.” Not a lie. This isn’t so bad. Daemon’s death impacted all of us. He was Madison’s long-lost twin brother who was the leader of The Lost Boys and held on an island called Perdita. An island my deranged mother ran and operated for The Kings. Something about a birthright to do so and family lineage, I’m not completely sure. I only not long ago found out about Katsia being my mother. Daemon spoke fluent Latin and hardly any English. He was silently disturbed. The kind you don’t speak about because you can never get close enough to him to have an opinion.

Only, I did.

My eyes finally go to Nate’s, and I regret it immediately. His pupils are dilated and He’s seething, absolutely livid, and all that anger is aimed at me.

“If you hadn’t run in the fucking first place, then I could have fucking protected you!”

I narrow my eyes. “I didn’t run, Nate! I was fucking taken! There’s a difference.”

He steps closer to me and I instantly freeze, every single warning bell inside of me ringing, signaling me to shut the fuck up or this boy will kill me. “Yeah? There’s a difference is there? Care to test that theory?”

“Nate!” Madison snaps, but he doesn’t retreat. His eyes are solely on me, and mine on his. I won’t back down, I refuse to. He can be angry, but I’m over being made out to be the bad person just because my options are tied and have been tied since I damn well came into this world. Not all of us have the freedom that money and power provide. Some of us have to actually unlock ourselves from what keeps us shackled, not pay our way out.

“Maybe you should…” I counter, challenging him.

His eyes weaken, and a lazy smirk pulls up the corner of his mouth. “Now, now, princess, don’t go asking for things you know you can’t handle.”

“Last I checked, I handled it just fine, thank you,” I mutter, finally taking my eyes away from him and concentrating on my drink.

“Okay! Sorry I’m late, but I had—” Tate cuts off from behind me. I don’t turn around to see her, because somewhere inside my brain, I know that she hates what Nate and I have.