“Sounds like her,” I mumble. Nate’s thick thigh presses against mine under the table and my chest tightens from the connection, but my fury simmers above the surface.
Bishop pauses, tilting his head. “Why did she keep you, that’s the question. I’m not at all surprised about your existence, but Khales never made impulsive decisions. Everything was always calculated with her.”
Abel shrugs. “Don’t fucking know. But she kept me for something.”
Bishop nods, his finger working over his upper lip. “We’ll find out.”
My eyes catch Brantley, who is already watching me. “Aw, what’s the matter, Bran Bran. Why are you looking at me like that?”
Perdita isn’t good for my soul. I can feel it digging its claws into me. I need to get out if I’m not going to stay. I need to escape and take Abel and Daemon with me.
Brantley doesn’t falter, his lip kicking up in a snarl. “Bran Bran? Pretty bold nickname coming from someone who I can fuck without permission, don’t you think?”
I tilt my head and give him back his smile. “Who’s to say permission wouldn’t be granted, Bran Bran.”
“Tillie!” Bishop snaps at me and I divert my attention back to the head of the table.
“Yes?”
Bishop stills, his eyes piercing into me like I had seen him do to Madison so many times before. Being on the receiving end of it, though, not so funny. I won’t show him that. If you cower in the presence of a King, he’ll have you kissing his feet for life.
“Let me go—”
“No,” Nate interrupts, and I snap my attention straight to him. This table is full of Kings and Abel is sitting right beside me, but all I see is Nate. All I care about is Nate and why he thinks he can hold me here.
“Why!” I throw up my arms to add to my dramatics.
My chest tightens when he looks at me. His eyes are enough to grip onto every single human emotion that’s inside of me and flip it upside down. I feel for Nate. I do. I’m in love with him, but I will never expose my feelings to him. You can’t. Once you expose your love for someone, you’ve surrendered your power, and in this case, my forgiveness. I won’t let him win. Not this time, and not any time soon.
Nate leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Because I don’t want to.”
I pause, allowing his words to sink into my brain. I blink a few times, count to ten, and then open my mouth. “Because you don’t want to?” Then I look around the table, my eyes falling on Bishop. “You mean to tell me that the reason you’re keeping me here is because he wants me here and that’s it?”
Bishop grins. “That, and the fact that I can’t have you running back to Madison and spilling all of our secrets.”
I freeze this time, balling my fists under the table. “She doesn’t know about Daemon, does she?”
Bishop runs his index finger over his upper lip, shaking his head with a smirk. “Nope.”
“Why are you doing this to her, Bishop? You guys are solid. Set in stone. Fucking Madshop. Why?”
He seems to ponder over my words and then leans back in his seat. “You wanna know why we’re fighting so much lately?”
“Yes. I do.” Even though I know he’s not going to tell me. Bishop always answers a question with a question, or words his answers in a way that you don’t understand.
Bishop opens his mouth, and then just when he’s about to say something, fucking Nate steps in and interferes. “—Don’t.”
Bishop instantly looks to Nate, and I watch as Bishop’s hard exterior slowly melts away and for a second, he looks vulnerable. Hurt. Deceived. God, Madison. What did you do?
Bishop shakes himself off and then shrugs. “Fine. But she’s going to find out sooner or later. You can’t protect her from everything, Nate.”
I scoff, because Bishop must be on some A-class shit to say that. Only I know that he is.
Abel, who has been quiet, finally speaks. “Where does this leave me?”
Bishop looks back at him and licks his lips. “How do you feel about the sight of blood?”
Nate
I run my fingers through my hair, watching the sun set over the trees behind the mansion. I fucking hate staying on Perdita for longer than a day, but we’re in day two and I’m getting fucking cabin fever. I mean, I’m about to slaughter some fucks if they say the wrong thing. Bishop let them out of the cells. Keeping Abel locked in a cell wasn’t our play, it was Khales. We don’t see either of them as a threat, and there’s no way they can get out of this house, let alone off this fucking island.
I hear the bedroom door open and close behind me, and then a tumbler glass of whiskey on ice coming into view. “Think she will work out what we’re doing?”
I take the glass from Brantley and bring it to my lips, shooting it back. “Yup. She’s fucking smart. Way smarter than anyone we’ve ever had around.”
“Agreed…” Brantley nods.
“But she can’t know what we know. She will get reckless in her revenge and we can’t have that.”
Brantley leans forward, resting his arms on the barrier. “Also agreed.”
“You care about her….” I try the unspoken words on the tip of my tongue. Don’t much like how they taste.
Brantley chuckles, shaking his head and hanging it between his arms. “No. I don’t think I care about her, but I also feel a little bit protective over her. If that makes sense.”
“It doesn’t.” I sigh. “But I get it, man. Who would have thought, though. Out of everyone…”
“That she’d be the one who would pull on my rusted strings?”
We both laugh. “Yeah. Exactly. Was beginning to think you were built without those…”
Brantley’s jaw clenches. “Yeah, unfortunately, I am.”
“So we agree?” I add, watching him carefully. “She isn’t going to know?”
Brantley nods.
