Malum part 2

Daemon. Usually, when I think of Daemon, it’s a comfort like nothing I have felt before, but being wrapped in Nate’s arms, it does nothing. When I think of my go-to safety line, Daemon. It. Does. Nothing. Nothing because Nate was all I need. It’s a dangerous thing to need someone who does not need you. After Hector has gone on, he cuts the meet short as he explains he needs to find his son. Something is going on between Bishop and Madison, or maybe she has told him the truth finally and he’s spiraling out of control. After all, I took that kill from him.

The older Kings disappear. I inch back from Nate’s chest, searching his eyes.

“Thanks. For doing that.”

His fingers wrap around my chin as he forces my mouth to his. “You’re the strongest fucking girl in this world, Tillie. You’re smarter than most of the fuckers sitting here. Use it.”

I think over his words. Then nod. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and slaps my ass to get up, which I do.

“Where the fuck is Bishop?” Brantley growls, and the younger generation and Jase’s come toward us.

Jase’s jaw clenches, but his eyes come to mine as he shakes his head. “He’s probably with Madison.”

“Madison, who I have not seen for almost two days?”

Jase looks around The Kings again and I step into his space. “I’m talking to you, not them. What is going on?”

He shrugs. Fucking shrugs. “Don’t know.” Then he leaves, and I watch as his retreating back disappears into the bushes.

We’re on our way home in Brantley’s car when Nate hits the music down. “Go to Bishop’s.”

“Why?” Brantley turns into the shoulder and hits his blinker on.

Nate runs his finger over his mouth. “Tate just texted me.”

I freeze.

“Chill out, Tillie, it’s not like that,” Nate sneers, and I want to kick myself for giving off obvious vibes of jealousy. “She said he’s throwing a party in his condo. This motherfucker has a death wish because Madison has always said no parties.”

Brantley hooks a U-turn, his tires skidding up in smoke.

Nate throws his hoodie to the back. “Put that on and don’t say a fucking word. Last thing I need to be doing is fighting motherfuckers who stare at you too long.”

“Um, okay but what happened to us fucking each other in the bathroom?” I gesture toward Brantley and me from the back seat.

Eli snorts beside me, Hunter chuckling too on the other side.

Nate doesn’t answer, like he doesn’t need to give an explanation on why he does or says things. Because he’s Nate.

Cue eye roll.

I put the hoodie on, watching as it falls past my skirt and sits just above my thigh-high boots. It smells like him, and the cotton hugs me like his arms. It’s reassuring and safe. He’s never getting it back.

Eli pulls out his phone and shows us his new pastel green Maserati. Said he’s wanted one since driving Bishop’s. I try not to zone out in boredom as we continue to Bishop’s. I take my phone out and snap a selfie of me pulling a sad face. It looks ridiculous because of the face paint, but I post it to my Instagram story with the caption CUFFED.

Ten minutes later, Brantley is driving us down into a bright concrete underground parking lot. One of the kinds that have concrete pillars that are holding up—literally—the entire hotel and the contents inside of it.

“How do they make sure this is safe? The structure?”

Nate chuckles. “You’re in a car with us and you’re worried about the structure of a building when it comes to your safety?”

We all climb out of the car and Nate takes my hand with his, leading us toward the elevator. Daemon’s book is still safely tucked under my arm, the confusion of tonight still buzzing in my head.

Why did I have to bring the book to the meet?

The elevator dings and soft classical music fills the space between us all. My eyes flick around to all of them and I almost laugh at how fu

But then I remember that I’m in a small space with them and that there’s nowhere to run if I piss Nate off.

The elevator dings on the Penthouse floor after Nate punches in a code. The doors separate and we’re met with darkness. I step out, looking left to right, searching for anything in Bishop’s flashy apartment.

“There’s no one here!” I state the obvious. “Hell—” I turn around, but they’ve all disappeared, the elevator door now securely closed.

I don’t like fear. In fact, fear makes me violent. If someone was to sneak up on me, I am not responsible for what happens to their face. OR their dick, for that matter.

“Really?” I roll my eyes, entering the vast space farther. The moonlight is the only form of vision, beaconing through the large floor to ceiling windows that are in the lounge room. You have to take a couple of steps down to get in there. I turn to the left, to see—nothing.

Okay. I close my eyes, inhaling and exhaling. I will bite. A little.

“What do you guys want?” I keep my eyes closed, afraid that if I open them, I’m going to see my life flash before my eyes.

“Sorry it had to be like this, Tillie, but we can’t do this same song and dance any longer. We’ve waited, fucking god we have waited…” Nate says, and I spin around to catch his voice, but I’m met with nothingness again.

“What do you mean!”

“Little terror, wake up….” Brantley’s voice teases, bouncing off the walls.

“I can’t, Bran Bran!” I yell, squeezing my fingers. “I’m not dreaming!”

A hood is shoved over my face, blacking out my vision completely. “What the fuck!”

Handcuffs are clamped to the back of my body and I twist and turn, trying to get out of whoever’s grip is behind me.

“Move forward, baby.” Nate’s voice caresses the back of my neck.

I fight the urge to kick back. “I don’t like games…”

He thrusts me forward as I hear the elevator ding, and then I’m shoved forward again, another hand clamped around my upper arm, the one that’s holding onto Daemon’s book. The lights from the elevator filters through the material of the sack over my head.

My breathing thickens. “This is a little dramatic,” I deadpan, allowing my fake confidence to erupt in the middle of the small elevator.

Nate chuckles. “I’m done, Tillie.”

Done? What does he mean done? We were never together. The doors ding open again and I’m being dragged back into the parking lot. There’s a car idling near us and I feel them all freeze. The car sounds rich, the smooth rumble of an expensive engine.

More silence.

“You guys talking behind my back?” I tease. I really shouldn’t. I’m in no position to torment them right now.

Doors slam shut before the car skids off, the tires tearing up the asphalt.

“Move, baby.” Nate shoves me into the back of Brantley’s car and we’re off.

We’re driving for twenty minutes before we slow down, the car turning around sharp little corners.

The car stops, and I’m being yanked out. If I wasn’t wearing Nate’s hoodie, which by the way, is doing sweet fuck all to comfort me right now, I would be freezing my ass off.

A lighter flame flicks in front of my face, sifting through the mesh. It’s Nate, smirking at me. “Say her name, Tillie.”

“What?” I yank my head back. “What are you talking about?”

The light disappears. “Our daughter died.”

“Stop it, Nate.”

The lighter flicks on again. “She died, Tillie. It broke me in half, and she took that half to the grave with her. But listen to me, Tillie. She’s gone.”