Malum: Part 2 (The Elite Kings' Club Book 5)

by Amo Jones

  I think over his words. I’ve done some heavy damage to her in the time that we’ve been together, without really being together. She deserves every fucking thing that she wants, and I don’t know if it’s me and this world that she really wants. Why would she want to be held by the same hands that broke her?

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

  “Think of her. Not you,” Brantley says before standing.

  “Alright, Dr. Phil.” I follow suit, handing him back the bottle. “Let’s get this fucking ceremony over with so she can at least be back on world soil.”

  I start heading back through the kitchen and to the dining room, just as Brantley’s hand comes out and stops me. “Don’t tease her with Valentina. You’re both past that and she’s dealt with enough of that bullshit. Also, if you care for your little toy’s safety, I wouldn’t push Tillie too far. Your toy might end up… broken.”

  I chuckle. “Yeah, I know.” Then I shove through and head into the dining room where Bishop is sitting, eyes distracted and lost in the distance.

  “We need to talk…”

  “Fuck,” I mutter, pulling the seat out before I take it. “Now what.”

  “It’s true,” Bishop whispers, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Brantley enters just as Bishop says the words.

  “What’s true?” Brantley asks, his eyes going between the two of us.

  I bury my face into my hands, running my fingertips through my hair. “She can’t know. Brantley, we need to tell you something…” I cover my mouth with my hand.

  Brantley glares at both of us. “Fucking secrets. Really?”

  “No.” I shake my head, because out of everything, I can’t handle Brantley being salty as fuck with me. “It was kept between the two of us until we could find proof, which Bishop has.”

  Brantley takes a seat, his jaw clenching.

  Bishop’s eyes go to Brantley. “We know about Saint.”

  Tillie

  We’re at the front of the gates of the mansion, and I have The Kings behind me, standing firm. I turn to the left, my eyes finding Benny, who’s watching me with obvious zeal. His eyes drop up and down my body, taking me in slowly. I chose the sluttiest thing I could find in Khales’ wardrobe, which wasn’t hard considering she owned patches as shirts. It’s a small black dress that hugs all of my curves. Strapless, pushing my tits up and has a nice little slit up the left thigh that goes right up past my hip.

  Hello, no panties.

  I matched it with thigh-high boots and spent hours on my hair and makeup. I wanted to look unstoppable and strong. I figure if I look strong, it will hide the fact that I’m falling apart inside.

  I swallow past my nerves, my eyes glassing over as I gaze back out in front of me. I don’t look at the swarm of people. I keep my eyes locked on the end of the road, so far back that I can actually see. When Gabe begins talking, I start counting shops.

  One.

  Two.

  Twenty-four.

  By shop fifty, Valentina is walking up to us with a long robe on, a hoodie covering her face.

  I don’t look at her, because fuck her, and carry on my count.

  Valentina removes the robe, and that’s when I finally look at her. She’s wearing a red dress that flows to the floor in lace patterns, a trail behind her.

  Nothing slutty or over the top. Nothing like my mother. Maybe it will be a good thing, maybe I can trust Nate when he says that I can trust her.

  Or maybe I’ll continue being bitter.

  I choose the latter and turn to Gabe when he takes my hand. He presses the sharp side of a silver blade into the palm of my hand. I wince as the sting resonates through all my nerves, before he does the same to Valentina. I don’t flinch when he presses her hand to mine. I remain vacant, and unfazed. I never look at her once, and I ignore the heat that’s radiating from the back of me. I know it’s Nate glaring laser beams into the back of my skull.

  I want off this fucking island.

  The crowd cheers.

  Gabriel turns to me, his hands coming to my face. “You’re free, sweet one.”

  “Thank fucking god.” I slice Brantley with a stare. “Home?”

  He nods. “Yeah. Alright.”

  Nate stayed behind. Because of course he fucking did. The flight was long because of this, and it was torture because all I could fucking think about is all the dirty things he was doing to Valentina.

  “I will never buy Valentino,” I mutter, scrolling on my laptop as I search for houses.

  Bailey chuckles. “That bad, huh?”

  I nod. “That fucking bad.”

  “Have you heard from him since you left yesterday?” she asks, throwing fruit and all sorts of shit into the blender.

  I shake my head. “Nope. All I know is that he and Bishop both stayed behind, and since Bishop is now single, and so is Nate, I’d hate to know what they were up to all night.” I pause, tilting my head as I look over a house that stands away from the rest.

  It’s nothing too over the top. It reminds me of what I wanted when I was a little girl, cold and hungry in the middle of our trailer, with my daddy’s fists flying into my face.

  “You found something?” Bailey asks, rounding the table and looking over my shoulder. “Oh, I love that!”

  “Me too,” I whisper, picking up my phone and calling my realtor. “I want it.” I smirk at Bailey.

  After letting my realtor know to put an offer in on the house, I make my way to my bedroom, flicking through the contacts on my phone. I hit dial on Madison, even though I know it will go to her voicemail.

  Only it doesn’t. “Tills…”

  I launch off my bed. “Madison!”

  “Shhhh!” she scolds me. “Don’t say that too loud.”

  “First of all are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she answers somberly.

  “Okay good, because what the fuck do you think you’re doing running away like this? Why didn’t you tell me you were going!”

  “I—I felt so guilty, Tillie.”

  “Madison,” I sigh, my shoulders sagging. “I would have never been mad at you. I understand this stupid world more than you know. I would have understood,” I repeat, my voice softer. “But what I don’t understand is why you ran! Where are you?”

  “In New Zealand with Jesse. You can’t tell Bishop!”

  “He already knows,” I answer truthfully.

  “He does?” Her voice cracks on the end.

  “Yeah, and he’s letting you go.”

  “Oh,” she answers sadly. “I guess that’s a good thing.”

  “No, it’s not. The minute you realize you want to come home, you better come home. Because I want my friend back. I forgive you, it’s all in the past. I never was mad at you in the first place.”

  “Oh no,” Madison says. “That was just the beginning of our problems.”

  I lick my lips. “Can you give me something more on what happened with asshole?”

  Silence. “He threatened to kill me, you, Bishop, Nate, everyone if I didn’t go along with the video to make it look believable. So I took it.” Her voice jolts and I know she’s crying. “My heart, Tillie. Knowing that I was betraying Bishop and I couldn’t do anything about it ripped me apart. I knew that any minute after it was done, Bishop was going to think I cheated.” She sighs. “I don’t know who he was working for or why he raped me. But when he finished, he called someone and told them that the deed was done and now they’d have to wait.”

  “God,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry, Madison. I wish I could be there with you right now. I promise I’ll get answers. These assholes will give me answers.”

  She chuckles. “You handle them all so much better than I ever did.”

  “Mads…” I whisper. “You’re the fucking queen of the pack. You’re Bishop fucking Vincent Hayes’ lady. You underestimate your power.”

  “No,” she says softly. “I overestimated it for too long. But I will come back one day.”

  “Good. Because
I bought a house.”

  “You did?” She perks up. “Where?”

  “Some fancy neighborhood in the suburbs. White picket fence and all. You’d be proud.”

  “I am proud.”

  “I need you back in my life,” I sigh. “There’s so much I’ve got to tell you.”

  “Well, I’ve got some time now?”

  I snuggle into my bed. “Okay, so this bitch Valentina…”

  Two weeks later

  Tillie

  “I love that we’re drinking out of mugs,” Bailey says, sipping red wine. Purchasing and moving was easy. It seems the saying is true; money does talk.

  “I know,” I chuckle, looking around my lounge. “I still have to shop for the smaller things. I don’t really drink wine, so it didn’t come to me.”

  “Hey so…” Bailey murmurs, running her finger around the rim of her mug. “Have you heard from any of The Kings?”

  I shake my head, tucking my legs under my ass. “No. I think they’re all giving me the silent treatment.”

  Bailey laughs nervously. “Oh, I have a gift!”

  “Oh, Bays, I can’t take another exp—”

  She hands me the box with Daemon’s book. My eyes go to hers as I carefully take it from her. “Where’d you get this? I couldn’t find it anywhere.”

  Bailey brushes my comment off, swallowing all of her wine in one gulp. “I figured it’s important. You should read it tonight, and think again about coming to Nate’s house warming. It won’t be kicking off until probably after ten.”

  I look at the big clock that hangs on my pristine white walls. It’s just after six. I smile, even though I know I won’t be going. No way in hell.

  “Thanks. But no. You have fun though!”

  She gives me a hug and stands. “Try reading through that tonight. You might feel more insightful or something…” Then she leaves, and I’m left sitting there wondering how she knows about Daemon’s book.

  I flip through the pages, my fingers scanning over each image.

  Picture after picture. I reach the end, where there’s the baby rattle in the cell. I always thought he was giving me a clue to Micaela, but that was when I thought he was alive.

  I tilt my head, looking closer at the image, then when I go to turn the last page, a photograph falls to my lap. I flip it over and pause, noticing it’s the same image from the cabin.

  “What?” I whisper, placing my wine onto the large coffee table and curling my knees under my butt. I flick back to the baby rattle and then look back at the picture.

  I look closer.

  This is the baby that Scarlet had said she wanted to raise.

  Who is this baby girl? I swear if someone says it’s me, I’m going to rage and burn this world down. I cannot take another fucking twist of parents.

  I pick up my phone and dial Scarlet’s number. She answers on the fourth ring.

  “Tillie…”

  “Scarlet, that little girl you told me about…”

  Silence. “Yes?”

  “Who was her mother? The woman Hector had an affair with?”

  “Who do you think?” Scarlet answers calmly.

  What has this book got to do with me. What are you trying to tell me, Daemon. My eyes close.

  “It’s Katsia, isn’t it? My mother had another little girl…” But it wasn’t Peyton, because we already know she wasn’t Katsia’s birth child.

  “Correct. Think, Tillie… who could that little girl be?”

  “I don’t fucking know!” I yell, standing to my feet. I’m pacing back and forth on my white fur rug, adrenaline thrashing through my veins. Who the fuck are you…

  I stop walking.

  I stop breathing.

  “Scarlet…” I whisper, blood draining from my body. “What color was her hair?”

  Scarlet snickers. “So fucking smart, young queen. For her hair, was as white as snow.”

  The phone slips from my hands and without thinking, I snatch the keys to my car off the coffee table, running out the front door.

  I don’t care that I’m in yoga pants and a loose knit shirt. Or that I threw on the first sneakers at my front door.

  I don’t even care that all I know is Nate’s street and not the number of his new house. I jump into my car and fire it to life, before skidding out of the driveway.

  Nate

  Two things happened to me the day that Tillie left Perdita.

  One, I realized that Brantley was right. I had to let her go. She needed to come back to me when she was fucking ready, and not because I’m forcing her to be in this life. In other cases, I’d be a selfish bastard and take her anyway, but with all the pain that this world has inflicted on her, I couldn’t bring myself to force her to be here. I set her free. But mark my fucking words, the second she walks her ass back through any door of the house that I’m in, I’m calling it check-fucking-mate and stamping my name across her ass.

  Bailey stumbles down the stairs, a bottle dangling between her fingers. “Nice house, Malum.”

  I ignore her, my eyes flying back outside as I watch as horny fucking college students dive into my lagoon-style pool that’s outside my very fucking over the top mansion. The day I was told I had a daughter, was actually the day I started plans on building it. Took a while, but it’s done now. Still some things needing to be put in, like the basketball court, and a place I’ve decided to call “The Den.” Bishop and I have massive plans for it. Like a gentleman’s club, with no fucking rules. It’s where we’re going to train the new generation of Kings, Abel included. It’s going to be exclusive and fucking lethal.

  From the foyer, the twin stairs lead up to the second level, that’s wrapped in stained marble. The whole second level is rounded in a circle, with a railing that you can look downstairs from. It has ten bedrooms, a theater, a show garage, and a room. The Room. I built this house around that one room. The room that started the plans. If you know me well enough and look closely at this house, you’ll see where I went dark. I started it happy, with Micaela’s room. Then it slowly went to shit and boom, The Den was built.

  Everything spins around me, the alcohol pulsing through my system at a speed I can’t catch up to. “Swervin” by A Boogie Wit da Hoodie starts playing and I lean my head back against the top of the sofa, closing my eyes. I usually rage when I’m this drunk, but I can’t seem to find the energy to beat any of these fuckers tonight. I feel someone take a seat on my lap, wriggling.

  My eyes fly open and I shove whoever it is off. The girl—who I don’t fucking know—falls to the ground.

  “Ouch, Nate!” She turns and I see that it’s someone—I think—I’ve fucked with in the past. Her legs open slightly, and I see a flash of her pussy. Yeah, definitely remember that. I think. I’m drunk.

  “Don’t fucking touch me.”

  I shove through the crowd in my sitting room, half tempted to tell everyone to get the fuck out of my house and that I don’t want any of them here when the front door flies open and everyone stops. She’s like a fucking magnet for Kings, because they all slowly come into the sitting room, surrounding me.

  I smirk devilishly, like I wasn’t just brewing in my own salt with how things ended between her and I.

  “Careful with that door, Princessa. It doesn’t like being slammed half as much as you do.”

  She glares at me from all the way the fuck over there, and my head swims in all the scotch I consumed.

  “Is it true?”

  I pause. What exactly is she asking me? Did she work it out?

  “Everyone out!” I snap at all the people in the lounge. They slowly pile out and make their way out to the back where the pool is. There’s no way I’ll be able to shut this party down right now, so I turn and look at Bishop. “Shut that fucking door and lock it.”

  “What are you talking about?” I answer her, but I’m pretty sure I slurred a few words in between. Fuck. I can’t help but take in her fucking body. Even in yoga pants and a fucking granny cardigan that looks
two sizes too large for her, she will still make every other girl walking this earth look like a solid zero. And that’s being generous. She doesn’t know this yet, but I haven’t laid my hands on another girl since Micaela came into our lives. Never fucked Tate, even though I’m pretty sure, judging by her little cute confessions with her Bran Bran, she thinks I did, and fuck other girls often, but the truth is, I don’t see any girls past her. Yeah, so I dabbled in pussy before, and between her when she left the first time, but since she came back, I’ve not.

  Shit. I haven’t fucked anyone since her. What the fuck.

  She carefully steps farther inside, her eyes wild. She’s the kind of wild you can’t tame, but you wouldn’t want to anyway, because her turbulent soul is reckless, desolate and raw. You wouldn’t want her any other way, and if you did, well, fuck what you want.

  “Is it true? Did Hector and Katsia have a baby girl…”

  I slam my mouth closed, my eyes crashing into Bishop’s before they swing back to her. “Yes.”

  She takes another step, her eyes narrowing. Oh, she’s fucking pissed. “I have a half-sister?”

  I hiss, baring my teeth as I take a swig of vodka. “Yes.”

  She’s right in front of me now, looking up into my eyes. Her sweet little doe eyes momentarily distract me from her animosity that’s throbbing off of her in waves. Then her eyes cut to Brantley.

  “Who is the girl that lives with you, Bran Bran?”

  Brantley’s eyes blaze, and I watch as his demeanor changes. He doesn’t like when Saint’s name is brought up in a conversation. We all learned that the hard way.

  “Brantley,” Tillie whispers, her head bowing. “Who is she?”

  Brantley softens, and then exhales, dropping down onto the sofa. “Saint,” he clips out and then reaches for a random bottle of alcohol off the coffee table. He leans back into the sofa and perches one foot up. “And yeah, she’s your half-sister.”

  Tillie

  I have a half-sister. Someone I didn’t know about—ever, and—I sink to the ground, fatigue settling into my bones.