by Amo Jones
“Room four-oh-one.”
Then she hangs up.
I swear to God.
I yank open the door to the stairwell and find 401 easily, gripping the door handle.
“It’s me!” I knock against the door softly.
She opens it and the first thing I notice is that she’s crying.
The second thing I notice is that she’s holding a knife.
And the third thing I notice is that there’s blood dripping over her hands.
Nate
“Where the fuck!” I launch my fist into the wall, pacing back and forth down the hallway of the twentieth floor. The elevator dings and both Brantley and I turn toward it, only finding Bishop, Eli, Cash, and Hunter spilling out.
“Did you find her?” Bishop asks, his eyes flying around all of us.
“What? Tillie? No. She fuck—”
“—not Tillie, Madison.” Bishop goes back and forth, anger rippling from him.
My eyes go to him, suddenly suspicious of just what the fuck these two girls could be getting themselves into.
“Wait, they’re together?”
“I’m guessing so.” Bishop grabs at his hair and yanks at it in frustration. “I chased Madison out, but by the time I reached the lobby, she had fucking disappeared.”
“Remind me to not let my future woman anywhere near those two misfits. I ain’t even playin’.” Eli shakes his head, smirking.
“She fucking stopped here. At this level,” Brantley murmurs.
I narrow my eyes at the stairwell, the light illuminating like a beacon of fuck knows what. I take a step forward.
“Yo! Nate!” Cash hollers from behind me, but I ignore him.
“She took the fucking stairs,” I mutter, my feet kicking up in speeds I didn’t know I had.
“Nate!” Bishop barks from behind me, but Brantley is right there beside me.
“She took the motherfucking stairs!” I yell, anger gripping at my bones.
“She’s way too fucking smart for even us,” Brantley grunts from beside me. “Fucking terror she is.”
We climb the stairs, taking two at a time until we reach the door to level twenty-one.
I yank it open and slowly step forward.
Silence.
Pure and utter silence.
I turn to face the rest of The Kings as they all begin to file through one by one.
Bishop’s eyes come to mine, his head tilting.
“This level?” he whispers as he comes closer.
I nod. “Yeah. Pretty sure.”
I point to each door and set them all at a door each, and then press my ears to number 401.
Tillie
“Jesus Christ,” I pace back and forth in the bedroom, dangling the knife in my hand. I don’t know why, but I feel the need to whisper.
I stop and turn to her. “Did you kill him?”
She shakes her head. “No. I just cut him a little…”
My eyes search her blood sodden hands and then land back on hers. “Sure.” I fling the knife up and down her body. “Just a little.” I sigh. “Where is he?”
Madison looks up at me with doe eyes, pointing toward the master bedroom that’s behind a sliding door that separates the lounge and bedroom. “In the bathroom. Bleeding out.”
I wander toward the door. “Can I ask why you decided to cut this man?”
Madison’s face falls. “It’s him, Tillie…”
“Wait.” I stop, turning to face her. “You mean him him?”
She nods her head. “Yeah. It’s him. I still don’t know who he is working for or why, but it’s him.”
I flip the knife between my fingertips. I’ve heard of the crazy shit that Madison did to Brantley’s dad, so I know the actual cutting isn’t what actually upset her. It’s what happened to cause the cutting.
I stop flinging the knife and slide the doors open with my feet, not wanting fingerprints. Sighing, I head straight for the bathroom. I can smell the metallic tang of blood well before I reach the door, but I kick it open anyway, the loud crashing from it hitting the back of the wall echoing through the bedroom.
Oops.
I look down at the man in the bathtub. He’s good looking. Young too.
When he sees me, his eyes go wide.
I kneel down to his level, running the knife up and down his chest while attempting to keep my anger in check.
He hurt my friend.
“What’s your name?” I ask, kicking the door closed with the back of my foot. I lean back and hook the latch to lock it. I know what Madison is capable of, but I want to make sure she doesn’t need to carry it all. What’s one more sin to add to the ever growing pile of reasons why I’m so fucking mentally unstable?
“Joshua.”
“Joshua.” I run the pointed edge of the knife down his chest and then smirk. “Hmmm, and you like getting girls naked, Joshua? Hmm?”
I stand, placing the knife on the towel rack while stepping backward. The bottom of my dress has already been smudged in the blood that’s on the floor.
He doesn’t answer, but that’s okay. I don’t need him to answer. I slowly zip the dress down until it falls to a pile at my feet. I didn’t think this through, how am I going to leave with no clothes on? Too far in to back out now.
“Do you like this, Joshua? Hmmm?” I ask, my head tilting while I gesture to my half-naked body.
When I say half-naked, I mean half-naked, wearing nothing but a bra, courtesy of my slutty dress that didn’t allow me to wear panties.
Madison knocks on the door.
I ignore her.
“Am I not naked enough for you?”
My arm twists to the back and unclasps my bra. It falls to the floor. Now I’m standing here naked. Completely.
“Is this better?” I ask him, but blood is coming out of his mouth so he can’t answer.
I lick my lips, stepping into the bathtub with him, letting the deep tang of metal drift over the top of my head. I can still feel Nate’s cum dripping down my inner thighs.
But everything is blank.
I don’t care.
I run the tip of the knife down his pretty face.
“Why do you look so familiar?”
I continue down past his jaw and to his throat. I press the blade to it.
“Why did you rape my friend?”
He doesn’t answer, more blood spilling between his lips.
He’s dying.
He’s not going to say anything.
I lean forward, my ear to his lips. “Why?”
He whispers one word. “Cataclysm.”
I lean forward just as his eyes flutter closed. I know that he’s about to die, but he’s not going to die on Madison’s conscience. So I press the sharp edge of the blade against his throat until it sinks into his flesh like a hot knife to butter, and blood squirts all over my hands. I maintain my calm.
Breathing in and out as the blade sinks deeper.
He stops moving.
When I pull the blade out, blood squirting everywhere, that’s when I register the heavy banging on the door. Suddenly it bursts open and Nate is standing at the threshold with Brantley and Bishop behind him.
Tillie
“Oops,” I sigh, dropping the knife onto the corpse.
“Oops!?” Nate whisper-yells in frustration before turning around. “Everyone but Brantley get the fuck out.”
They all disappear through the two big, bossy men in my life. Nate breathes in and out, leaning against the door once it’s closed. A few seconds pass before he pulls his phone out and sends a text, putting it back into his pocket.
“My little terror,” Brantley smirks, coming closer to me and grabbing my hand to help me out of the tub. “I’m a little proud, and a lot fucking turned on right now.” His eyes darken. “Red is definitely your color.”
“Don’t take her out,” Nate grunts, not meeting my eyes. He ambles forward and turns the faucet to the shower on. “Rinse the blood off you.”
I stand under t
he head, watching as water rushes over my skin and falls onto the dead body between my legs.
Once it’s running clear, I turn it off and step out, just as Brantley cleans the obvious blood from the floor and tosses the towel into the tub with the dead fuckwit.
“Come here,” Nate murmurs, taking my hand in his and pulling me out.
“It’s cold,” I shiver, grabbing for the towel he’s handing me. My body shakes uncontrollably, gripping onto all of my nerves before I can take control.
Nate dries me as Brantley shuffles around the room, making sure everything is in the tub.
“Did you send out the text?” Brantley asks Nate.
“Yes,” Nate says, his hand coming to the back of my neck. “Why did you do that? What happened from the time that we fucked downstairs, to here?”
I open my mouth, wanting to tell him but still shackled by my loyalty to my best friend.
“Why do you hate me?”
Why did I just say that?
“He doesn’t hate you,” Brantley whispers from behind me, drying my legs.
I focus back to Nate’s gaze, who is staring at me with enough intensity to burn a hole into my head. “You hate me.”
Nate doesn’t answer.
My eyes close as Brantley’s hand grazes up my inner thigh and I whimper, my head falling forward, onto Nate’s chest.
Nate stiffens.
Brantley continues up, and then his lips press to my shoulder. “Breathe, my little terror, you’re okay. You’re fucking safe when we’re around…”
I hold my breath, my fitful heart still jumping around in my chest.
I killed a man.
Someone who raped my best friend.
The smell of blood lingers with my lust, but the feeling of Brantley dropping kisses on my shoulder blades makes my head spin. I moan again, inhaling Nate’s smell. He hasn’t moved, his hard body still stoic.
I rub my bare ass into Brantley, who is rock hard behind me. He licks me across the back of my neck as his other hand reaches down between my legs, his thumb coming to my clit. I moan again as it circles me, my legs shaking. My eyes come up to Nate, who is watching me closely, his jaw set in stone. Just when Brantley’s finger dives inside of me, Nate’s hand comes around and wraps my chin, tilting my face to his.
He presses his lips to mine. “I don’t hate you, baby.”
I wrap my arm around the back of his neck as my other reaches behind me to grip onto Brantley’s cock through his jeans.
Brantley unzips his jeans until his heavy pierced dick falls into the palm of my hand.
Nate grips onto my legs as I wrap them around his waist. His kissing slows, his tongue licking mine softly. Every flick, every caress, every thrust of his hips.
I tug on Brantley’s cock as Nate grinds into me in circles.
“Fuck,” Brantley groans from behind me. “I don’t know how much I can take without actually putting my dick in her.”
Nate stills, searching my eyes. He drops me, along with the mood, to the ground.
“Fuck!” Nate punches the wall. “Why the fuck can’t I share you!” He yanks the door open and disappears, leaving me and Brantley in the bathroom alone.
“For both our sakes, we need to tuck up,” Brantley laughs, shaking his head.
I swipe my cheeks. “Yeah.”
We leave the bathroom, with Brantley giving me his suit jacket. I wrap it around my body closely, realizing it looks like a dress. The room is dark, but I can hear talking in the other room.
“You asked me why he hates you…” Brantley says, his hand coming to mine.
“Yeah?”
“It’s because he can’t hate you.”
“You make it sound so simple. So relatable.”
“Because I do relate to the feeling. Well.”
I don’t ask. “One day, I’m going to want to know what you mean by that…”
Brantley chuckles. “I bet.”
I pick up my heels and slip them onto my feet, piling my wet hair onto the top of my head to fall into a long ponytail. We enter back into the main room to see everyone there, Nate included.
“Nate called it in. We need to leave so everything can get handled,” Bishop murmurs, his eyes on mine. A thousand questions lay in those eyes, questions I won’t answer.
Madison is sitting alone on a chair, her eyes on the floor. Nate is talking with her, but I can see everything is going in one ear and out the other.
“Do we have to talk about the fact that y’all were about to have sex in a bathroom where a dead body was, right after our little queen off-ed him?” Eli asks, his eyes going around the place. “Or are we just putting that in the bucket of things we don’t talk about?”
I ignore him, heading straight for Madison.
Nate glares at me, standing back to his feet defensively. I don’t care about his feelings right now. I just want to make sure my friend is okay.
My hand comes to her knee and her eyes flutter to it. “Do you want me to take you home?”
I catch something flash over her eyes. At first, I’m not fast enough to decipher it, but then I study her closely. How her eyes flick to mine, and then to Bishop, and then back to me. I know what that something is now—fear, and she’s going to do the thing that Madison always does.
Run.
And no one can stop her.
“Hey,” I coax, taking her hand in mine. “I’ll take you home.”
I stand with her behind me as Nate removes his jacket to wrap it around her body.
I grit my teeth, fighting my irrational thoughts. This is Nate. He cares. He gives a fuck about the very few people in his life. I know this, so I can’t be mad.
“We’ll have to take the back exit. No doubt they’ll wipe footage, but just to minimize the job and keep it clean,” Bishop adds, running his hands over his face.
“Then shouldn’t we reduce their work by just going the way we came so they don’t have to wipe two sets of cameras?” I question Bishop.
Nate shakes his head. “No, because then there are other things we have to take into consideration, like the two of you wearing jackets, and witnesses. It doesn’t matter, they’ll wipe the whole lot.”
Nate’s eyes meet mine.
I look away. New plan. Don’t look him in the eye ever again.
We all make our way out as Bishop orders Cash and Eli to wait for the clean-up crew as we all slowly make our way outside via the fire exit. There are already two large black limos waiting. Bishop opens the door, gesturing for us to get in first. Madison goes straight to the far corner of the seat on the opposite side that we climbed in on and I sit right beside her.
Nate sits beside me, and Bishop, Brantley, and Hunter sit opposite us.
Hunter is watching her carefully, worry etched into his features.
Nate’s thigh presses against mine, but I flinch away from him.
He laughs. “Bit late for that considering I’ve had my dick in you tonight.”
Everyone goes about their business, well acquainted with Nate’s and my toxicity on display for everyone.
I ignore him, not taking the bait. I’m tired. I want Daemon to tell me everything is going to be okay. I miss his presence and his touch. Why am I attracted to the depraved? It’s like my soul attaches itself to darkness, lurking on the wicked because the disenchantment in mundane-like souls isn’t enough to spark fire in mine. All the men in my life have one thing in common—evil.
Nate seems to shuffle around a lot beside me. Going from his thigh jiggling to his hand grabbing at his hair, back to his thigh jiggling.
He’s frustrated, like a ticking time bomb about three seconds away from exploding.
This carries on the whole way to Brantley’s house.
My eyes go to Madison when we pull up. “Are you coming in?”
She shakes her head. “No. I’m going home. Alone.”
“Fuck that!” Bishop finally yells. “You’re going to explain this shit once and for all!”
; “I don’t have to explain shit to you, Bishop! Get out!”
My eyes fly between the two of them.
“If I get out of this car, Madison, it will be forever,” he growls softly.
Goddamnit, Madison! Fucking tell him. For the life of me. She’s about to lose this man forever if she doesn’t open her trap.
“Please do,” she murmurs, her eyes looking out the window.
I watch as Bishop flies out the door, slamming it in his retreat.
“Madison…” I try.
“Don’t.” She shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I don’t deserve him, and there’s so much.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I give her thigh one more squeeze and then climb out the door. The limo pulls away and I start thinking that Nate went with her, but then I hear his footsteps behind me.
They’re heavy.
Angered.
I know our fight isn’t over.
He whistles out. “Tillie!”
I don’t answer, half because I’m mad at him but mainly because I’m not a fucking dog and what is with him and whistling to girls. Instead, my feet pick up their pace, the only problem with this is that my heart speeds up with it. I want to run. Not Madison run, I mean workout run. Or just run for my life run because fear ripples up my spine when I hear his footsteps thud against the pavement behind me, and suddenly, I’m flying forward, dropping my clutch to the ground and bypassing the front door, whipping to the side of the house. I drop my shoes when I pass the gardens, tears rippling down my face.
His footsteps are getting closer, heavier, but I zip forward like a bolt of lightning and head straight for the opening in the forest. Blades of damp grass whip my ankles as my hair falls from its high ponytail, flying out in the wind. The tears won’t stop. Why am I crying?
Why is my mind a maze of scribble? Why am I broken? Why does he hate me so much? So many fucking questions. That’s why I’m crying. I dash down the dirt path, my toes sinking into the mud. Just as I reach the entry to the Vitiosis cemetery, I stop running, wiping the stray tears from my cheeks. The high wired gates reaching for the sky in gothic spikes distract me for a second too long, because something hard crashes into my back and I’m falling forward, my hands flying out as I land face first into the dirt. Nate’s hard chest is pressed against my back as he inches up slightly to flip me around, spreading my legs wide with his. He rests his weight on me, his hand slamming over my mouth.