Malum part 2

Tillie

My black lace mask is secured around my face tightly. I chose another red dress, because of course I did. It’s tight around my waist, dipping like a heart between my breasts with no straps. It bands tightly down my legs until it spills out slightly around my feet. There’s a long slit that goes right up past my hip, so I had to skip on wearing underwear. Madison and I both visited the salon today. My hair was so faded that I couldn’t stand it anymore and wanted a change. I thought about going back to my natural blonde but bitched out. So they put another pink through and washed it out so it’s back to a metallic, bright pink.

My eyes are dark and heavy with liner and smoke, and my lips are a blood cursing red.

“I think I’m going to spew,” Madison murmurs from beside me as our driver takes us toward a hotel in the heart of NYC where it’s being held.

“At least it’s not at his house again.”

“True,” Madison agrees, readjusting her mask. She’s wearing the same as mine, only red. Her dress is black and short. She wanted to go short, for obvious reasons. She has also been drinking since we started applying makeup.

“Will you be okay?” I ask her as she sips from a champagne flute.

“Yes,” she says, throwing back the rest.

This might not end well.

The driver pulls up to the front of a hotel in the Upper East Side and we both climb out, our heels clicking across the concrete. I squeeze my clutch in my hand and grab hers with my other.

“It’s going to be okay, Mads.”

She whimpers. “I believe you.”

The doorman opens the doors for us, and we step through the foyer, making our way to the ballroom I’m guessing where it’s being held, judging by the signs and people filing in dressed in similar attire.

My phone vibrates in my clutch, so I pull it out, just as we reach the woman who’s standing at the entrance with a clipboard.

She eyes Madison skeptically, and then her eyes come to mine and they widen. Interesting. Usually, people know who Madison is before they know who I am, but I’ve come to the realization that that has quickly changed, and it also depends on the people we are around. Riverside Prep kids who attended their school? Sure. But adults and grown people who are head deep in The Elite Kings world? No.

“Tillie Stuprum and Madison Venari.” I bite out her name harshly, somewhat offended for my friend. I wish I could have said Madison Hayes and watch the judgy bitch’s eyes pop from their sockets as she dropped to Madison’s feet.

I chuckle to myself at my thoughts, unlocking my phone and seeing a text from Nate. My heart beats in my chest.

We need to talk.

I look up at the woman who ticks off our names, her eyes still not moving from me. “Yes, please enter. Thank you, Miss Stuprum.”

I yank on Madison’s arm to pull her in with me and as soon as we’re inside, I’m taken over by the setting. Dim lighting, a live band playing on a makeshift stage, people talking amongst each other. They all pause slightly as Madison and I enter. I feel thousands of eyes on me and I know why.

“My god,” Madison whispers, leaning into me. “I mean like people know me in their circle and at school, but this is a whole new level. Everyone is staring at you like you built the fucking kingdom.”

“Not me,” I grumble under my breath. “Just my ancestors.”

“Princessa,” a voice says behind me, and I turn to see a young boy that I don’t recognize. “I’ll escort you both to your table.”

I nod my head, allowing him to take my arm and lead me to the front of the room with Madison in tow. When we get there, my eyes fly around the table to all of The Kings (my ones). Nate, Bishop, Brantley, Eli, Cash, Hunter, Ace, Chase. I know where Nate is instantly, glaring at me from across the table. I take the empty seat beside Bishop, and Madison sits on the other side of me, closest to her brother, Hunter, since Jase isn’t here. The lights are low, only intensifying the already potent atmosphere.

Bishop leans into me and my hand goes to Madison’s knee under the table.

“Pretty sure Eli stirred the pot this morning,” Bishop purrs into my ear. Okay. Alright. I mean, one look at Bishop and he owns your ass. I think the only reason why I’m immune to him is because I’m so loyal to Madison and he has always been hers. But don’t get me wrong. I totally, totally, understand where the hype comes from. Especially when he’s whispering in my ear.

My eyes go to Nate. There’s a girl beside him, wearing a pink lace mask. I feel bile rising up my throat. From what I can see from here, she has dark hair and ta

I could kill her. That would be okay. I know that Brantley and the rest of The Kings would help me dispose of her body, so it’s fine.

“You can’t kill her,” Bishop chuckles in my ear, snapping me out of my plot of murder. “I mean you could, and none of us would detest it, but she’s pointless. The only reason he’s bringing her here is a pathetic attempt to push you away.”

Madison pats my hand reassuringly as my phone vibrates. I lean back into Bishop. “I don’t care.”

“Really?” he answers me, but his eyes are on Nate.

“Who’s that beside him?”

Bishop answers, picking up his drink. “Billie. She was adopted into an Elite family when she was two. She and Nate fucked around one summer when they were kids and she was his initiation fuck.”

“So I’ve heard,” I answer, picking up my flute glass. I lean down and reach for my phone.

Madison—Thank you for looking out. I see what Nate is doing, though, so feel free to use Bishop however you want. I know he’s hurting, and I’d rather him use you than use someone else. If you know what I mean.

I reread over her words, and then another text comes through.

Obviously, you’re not allowed to do anything.

I smirk. There’s my friend.

Unless you both want to get shot.

My grin deepens, and a chuckle slips from my lips.

I love you.

I push my phone away, ignoring the next text, and then I lean into Bishop.

“Can you promise me something?” I say to him, even though he doesn’t owe me shit.

“What?” He doesn’t agree, but there’s no surprise in that.

“Don’t do anything stupid until you know the full story.”

He rests his arm over the back of my seat, his grin smug as fuck. “Yeah. Sure thing.”

He’s such an asshole.

“I’m trying not to be super weirded out about how it’s so easy for us all to switch partners…” Eli murmurs, leaning into Bishop but close enough so I can hear him too.

Brantley chuckles. “I rest my case.” What fucking case.

I ignore the rest of the banter, my eyes going around the room in search of Hector. I wonder how Bishop feels about this revelation, and I wonder what they hope to achieve by confirming this. They can’t kill him, can they?

A girly laugh comes from across the table and my eyes zip to Nate and Billie. She’s leaning into him, his lips on her slender neck and his hand under the table, presumably on her leg.

I clench my jaw.

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” a voice whispers from behind me. An unfamiliar voice.