by Amo Jones
“Is he here with someone?” she asks.
“What? Who?” I ask, confused. My face falls when I realize that she’s talking about Bishop. “Mads, no. What the fuck? No!”
“Are you defending him?” Tate adds her two cents.
I still, my eyes going straight to her. “How about you step the fuck off, Tate.”
“Both of you shut up, please?” Madison exhales.
I shake my head, my eyes going back to Madison. I’m angry. I don’t know why, but I’m angry at her. I know it’s unreasonable, but a big part of me understands this life on a whole level that these two girls will never understand—and that makes me protective. Protective over not just Nate and Brantley, but Bishop too. I love Madison, she will always have my loyalty, but she needs to stop with the drama.
“Madison, I won’t shut up. You can tell Tate to leave if she’s not willing to shut her trap.” I glare at Tate. “Shut your mouth about shit you don’t understand, or leave.”
Tate rolls her eyes. “This isn’t your house, Tillie. They aren’t your friends!”
“Actually, she’s right, Tate. What she says goes. You can get the fuck out if she doesn’t want you here,” Brantley interjects with tranquility, his presence falling heavy on my back.
Tate eyeballs Madison, who is now standing silent. “Are you going to let them talk to me like this?”
“Like what, Tate? You came in here from hearing just one story, and trust me, I get it. We both love Madison, but I don’t think you’re good for her right now.”
“Oh, and you are?” Tate sasses, glaring at me.
I’m about to punch this bitch. Maybe it’s because Nate and I are in a vulnerable position and I don’t feel like dealing with Tate dropping to his unholy feet, or maybe my patience with this girl has snapped and I no longer care, but whatever it is, I can’t deal with her right now.
“Madison kne—”
Madison turns to Tate, snapping at her. “Shut up, Tate! Just meet me in the car or go and get a drink.”
I watch as Tate huffs and storms into the house, going straight for the kitchen, but she sidesteps when she finds herself in the living room instead. She’s never been here before—not surprised.
“Sorry,” Madison exhales, rubbing her hands over her face. I look over my shoulder to face Brantley, whose focus is solely on me. He pins me with a stare, bringing his bottle to his mouth.
I nod, a silent conversation passing between the two of us. He nods his head and leaves, stumbling slightly. Is he drunk?
I fight the urge to chase him and see what’s going on. What is with the people—myself included—in my life. We’re all a fucking mess, but maybe that’s why we all found each other, because we were all lost on the same path.
“Can we go somewhere to talk? I don’t want to see Bishop right now.”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat, gesturing to the long hallway. “We can find somewhere in this creepy fucking house.”
She laughs, but tears are falling down her cheeks. Shit.
We continue down the hallway in silence. My legs feel like jelly from the alcohol, and now that she’s here, I regret being reckless even more. I had a weak moment.
I turn into the first room I see and flick the light on after searching aimlessly on the wall for the switch.
The light turns on in a blaze and suddenly we’re met with a large office. Floor to ceiling bookshelves line the back of the desk and a large leather seat tucked behind it tidily. I can almost smell the dust particles in the air.
“I wonder if this place ever gets used?” I think out loud.
Madison’s eyes fly around the room, panic setting in. “This is Luce’s office.” She backs up, but then her eyes slam closed as she shuts the door behind herself.
“I need to talk to you,” she murmurs instead.
“Finally,” I answer, treading deeper into a room I most definitely should not be in.
Madison’s eyes fall to the corner behind me, and I turn to see what she’s looking at, finding the alcohol cabinet. “I’ll need something strong first.”
I don’t fight her, and I don’t fight her again when she pours the amber liquid into two glasses instead of just her one.
She passes one to me and takes a seat beside me on the brown leather two-seat sofa that’s on the opposite side of the room.
She takes a swig. “Bishop and I—we’re not together.”
I choke on my drink. “What?!”
She takes another drink. “Yep.” Then she stands, making her way toward the alcohol cabinet, taking the whole glass bottle this time before coming back to join me.
“Why?”
She pours more into her glass. “Number of reasons, but mainly…” She sinks more of the booze. “I fucked up.”
I shake my head, shooting back my drink in one go and reaching for the bottle. “That’s not allowed. You two are it. You’ve always been perfect for each other!”
“—Really?” Her eyes come to mine, and it’s the first time that I see how deep her pain really is. How have I missed this before? I’ve been a terrible friend. I feel guilty instantly.
She laughs quietly. “I don’t know. I’d take what you and Nate have in a heartbeat.”
I choke on my drink again—only for different reasons this time. “Why would you—what the fuck, Mads. No. We are—no.”
“You are what, Tillie? You are his world. Everything begins and ends with you. He doesn’t hold secrets from you. You are a big part of this world, they all fucking love you—I damn well envy you.” She sighs, burying her face in her hands. “I know that’s pathetic. I know that I love Bishop and he loves me, but sometimes love isn’t enough to get through, you know?”
“Yes, I do know, but not when it comes to you. Jesus, Madison, what happened? Also, don’t be ridiculous about Nate. He hates me. He has been cruel to me for months since I came back, and it got worse when—” I stop, snatching the glass bottle and pouring more into my glass. I’m not done having my weak moment. “Anyway, no. We’re nothing to be envied.” Nothing to be envied at all. Maybe we had a chance before, but since we both lost someone we loved so much, love isn’t what we’re feeling right now. All love does is remind us of what we’ve lost.
“I mean it when I say you will both work. The only thing that’s stopping you from being together is both of you being so stubborn—”
“—That’s not all, Mads. We will never work. We’re too toxic. Anyway, this isn’t about Nate and me, it’s about you and Bishop.”
“Right!” Madison sighs, massaging her head. “I cheated on him.”
“—What!” I rear off the sofa, dropping the glass to the carpet. I’m about to swear at her when she shakes her head.
“Stop, let me finish.”
“Madison…”
I’ve always been very envious of how Bishop has been loyal to her all along. He’s not a ho like Nate and I’ve always envied that.
“How could you!” I whisper, shaking my head.
Bishop.
“It’s not that simple to explain, Tillie. I didn’t—he didn’t—I tried to—” She pauses, her eyes coming to mine, rimmed bright red. “He raped me.”
I freeze. Anger crashing over me in violent waves. My fingertips zap with rage. “What?”
She’s a sobbing mess now, swiping the tears from her eyes angrily. “I’m so mad that I’m letting this affect me still—to this day. I can’t help it…”
I haven’t moved. My limbs are rock solid. I don’t want to move. I want to smash things. I want to rage. The first thing that comes out of my mouth, though, is, “Does Bishop know?” Because if he does and is blaming this on her, I don’t know and won’t be responsible for my actions.
She shakes her head, her eyes going wide in pain. “No, Tillie. Please don’t tell him.”
“Don’t tell him?” I whisper-yell. A little too harshly, I know, but what the fuck?
She pins me with a glare. “You have to promise not to tell anyone…�
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“Why?” I ask, searching her eyes for clues. Any clue.
“Because if he finds out, we will all die.”
“What the—”
The door swings open and a seething Bishop is standing in the doorway.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Kitty?”
I feel her leg shake against mine, and I launch off the sofa, standing directly in front of her.
“Bishop. Leave.”
His eyes cut to me. “What? Did she tell you what she did? See…” Bishop steps into the space and I’m thinking of one-hundred different ways that I can knee him in the nuts. I mean sure, he will definitely kill me, but at least it will give Madison time to run away. Madison. “I don’t like being cheated on. I let the first couple of bullshit antics with Nate slide because he’s a King, and we play games, and they never went all the way, and I didn’t call fucking red. At least we’re gentlemen, though. We make your heart beat before your pussy—”
“—Bishop!”
He steps into my space. “Move, Tillie.”
Nate
Brantley paces back and forth in front of a bedroom door, a bottle of scotch dangling from his fingertips.
I tip my head. “The fuck are you doing?” I had a feeling the whole Tillie thing would get to him, but this is taking the cake. Maybe he cares more for her than I thought…
“Shut the fuck up with your thoughts, Nate. It’s not about Tillie.”
My brain is buzzing with alcohol, turning my limbs numb, but I don’t give a fuck. I’d rather feel the cool buzz of nothingness than the molten lava of Tillie fucking Stuprum blazing through my veins. I slide down the wall opposite and watch as he continues to pace back and forth like a caged lion protecting his prey.
“So what has gotten into you. Never seen you like this before. Should I be worried? Has our dark prince fallen in love?”
He pauses, snarls at me and then takes a long swig of the amber liquid. Then he continues pacing in front of the door. Figuring he’s not going to answer me, I kick my leg out and hang my arm on my knee. “You think Tillie will forgive me one day?”
Instant. “No.”
I snort, licking my lips. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
He continues pacing. He’s deranged and unhinged. Like a wild animal threatening to break out of its cage. My eyes catch the door handle. Its gold pattern lingers in my attention for longer than it should. It’s not that the door handle is odd, because this whole fucking house is creepy and peculiar. It’s the Dark Mansion, and it well and truly holds its title with pride. With its sharp concrete rooftops and the cement hidden gardens that take you from one wing of the house to the other; It’s all fucking Addams family and gothic, but the house has been in the Vitiosis family since way the fuck back then. My eyes fly to the other door handle beside this one. It’s silver, plain, and smooth. Nothing to it and it’s certainly not gold. I examine another and then swing my head to the other side to check the rest of them. My skin is itching with curiosity when my attention lands back on the door handle in front of me. Gold that sparkles so bright it reminds me of an angel’s halo, and a single pattern of what looks like a lotus flower on the base.
I fly to my feet, adrenaline coursing through me. “What is behind that door?”
Brantley freezes momentarily before flying toward me, wrapping his fingers around my throat and shoving me against the back wall. He tilts his head, examining me closely. His pupils are dilated. Yeah, he’s fucked up right now.
He leans in closer, his mouth touching my ear. “You can’t have her,” he whispers, kissing my cheek before pushing away from me to continue his pacing.
“Well, now I’m really fucking curious. You hiding her behind that door, Bran Bran?” I throw Tillie’s nickname at him.
He flips me off.
I smirk, pushing off the wall before walking directly up to him. I don’t want to test him. No one tests a fucking wolf unless they want to get eaten, or unless you’re fucking Tillie.
“Let me see her.”
He can’t possibly have a girl in there. I mean—really? That would be fucked up… which would be totally something Brantley would do.
He snarls at me, his jaw clenching. He opens his mouth to say something just as Eli’s voice breaks out from behind us. “Yo! Madison and Bishop have just had a massive fight and Tillie was in the middle of it!”
“What the fuck!” I slam my fist against the wall and kick up from my seat. I don’t know what the fuck is going on between the two of them, but whatever it is, they need to sort it out before I lock them both in a cell on Perdita and throw away the key.
Actually, that’s not a bad idea.
Brantley and I both fly down the hallway and jog down the stairs from the third level, down to the second, and then down to the first. My feet hit the foyer when I hear Madison screaming from down the main hallway—coming from Luce’s office.
Brantley stills when he realizes that they’re in there, but then Tillie’s voice comes through and we both rush forward.
“What the fuck, Bishop! You selfish fucking—”
“Enough!” I snap, entering the room, my heart erratic and my eyes checking over Tillie quickly to make sure she’s not hurt. Be awfully unfortunate to have to turn on a brother…
Madison runs toward me, her arms wrapping around my waist.
“Shut the door,” I order Brantley, even though this is his fucking house and Bishop is the leader. But the leader is damaged right now, so naturally, I’m going to have to step up.
I press my lips to Madison’s head, my fingers curling under her chin to lift her face to mine. “Who do I need to kill?”
Tears pour freely over her swollen cheeks. She’s always so painfully beautiful, but it’s hard to notice that when Tillie is in the same room.
“It’s nothing.”
“Madison…” Tillie urges.
Madison swipes at her tears. “It’s nothing. I cheated on Bishop, so he hates me and we’re over and that’s why we’re fighting. I’m going home now.”
“Hold up!” I pull her back by her arm when she tries to take off. Because that’s what she’s good at—running. Except now she’s running on my patience and if it’s true, that she really did cheat on Bishop, then she and I will really have a problem. Because I’m a hypocrite like that—she can only cheat with my cock. Could. I’d never touch her now or ever.
“Nate!” Madison screams. I flinch, letting her go. She quickly bolts out the door, disappearing into the dark and I honest to God have no fucking idea what to say, so I bring my eyes to Tillie.
“Tell me everything, now.”
Tillie glares at me in defiance. “I’m not telling you shit.” Then she barges out of the room, leaving Bishop, Brantley, and Eli in here with me, standing around like what the fuck just happened.
“Bravo, boys. Way to choose your women…”
“Shut the fuck up, Eli,” I snap.
“Crazy girls fuck better.” Bishop chuckles, swiping his mouth. “But they don’t know shit about love.”
“Is it true?” I ask Bishop, wanting to hear his side.
He flings his arms out wide. “Yep. Saw it with my own eyes.”
I drop down onto the sofa, my hand running through my hair. “I swear to fuck, these girls are aging me every day. Between Tillie and—all of that—” My eyes go around to them all, and for a second they all sober. “—and Madison and this. What happened?”
Bishop drops to the floor, bringing his knees up to his chest. “Don’t know. She fucked him in our house. On my bed. It was recorded and sent to me. It was there in black and white, but I still asked her. She admitted it. That’s that. It was the day before—” Bishop pauses. “When it happened. That stunt at your house after, was the final time I fucked her. Put my cum inside her pussy to remind her who owns it.” He pauses, his eyes glassing over. “Or owned it.”
I snicker at the pussy comment. “Nice.”
“Jesus Christ,” Eli mutters,
just as Hunter, Jase, and Ace pad in, all drunk as fuck.
I make sure to fill them in until we’re all sitting around on the floor.
“Did you know him?” I question Bishop, my hand covering my mouth.
Bishop shakes his head. “Never seen him before in my life, but when I do—”
I nod in agreement. He doesn’t need to say the words that he’s thinking, because it’s already done. If Bishop doesn’t find him, I sure as fuck will. In fact, it just bumped up on my list of things to feed on.
“What are we going to do about Tillie?” Brantley asks, breaking through the tension.
I exhale, leaning back on the sofa. “I don’t know, but I think it’s time to tell her why we snatched her ass and placed her in Perdita.”
“Really?” Bishop asks, his eyes coming to mine. “You think she could handle that right now, considering…”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Fuck.”
Tillie
Pain doesn’t define us, it shapes us. We come into this world as newborns, a fresh start. New life, a crisp soul. Then life happens, and every single choice you make has an implication. Every scar has a story, or it doesn’t and it’s just a scar, but whether or not it has a story, it’s still a scar, and that scar doesn’t define us, so why should pain?
I roll onto my side, closing my eyes and willing my mind to sleep. Let the alcohol pulse out from my pores so I can start fresh again tomorrow.
But that’s not how it works.
Tears slip down the sides of my eyes as I flip onto my back. Everything feels heavy. Weighted. I don’t want to live within these walls anymore, living for what?
“Puella,” Daemon whispers from the other side of my room and I jump up when I see him standing at my doorway. He’s been quiet all night, and I feel awful that I forgot he was here.
“Are you okay?” I ask, because I always need to know that he’s okay. My beautiful saving grace isn’t grace at all. He’s weeping with darkness and demons, but he’s still mine.
Calmness takes over me as he comes closer to my bed. His hand comes to my cheek where he swipes away the fallen tears. “To cry is to feel.”