by Amo Jones
“Aw.” He presses his hand to his chest. “I’m hurt, princess. Truly hurt.”
I shove him playfully as we make our way to the bonfire. There are people scattered around, sitting on old logs and drinking out of plastic cups. People I haven’t even seen before. When we get close enough, they all pause, everything falling silent, except for the song that’s playing through the loudspeakers that are set up outside.
My eyes drop, the silence annoying me. I quirk one eyebrow before they all go back to talking.
I turn to face Cash. “Are they all in our world?”
Cash laughs. “Hell naw. They just know who you are.”
“Huh.” I swallow a large gulp of my drink. “Interesting.”
“How is that interesting?” Cash asks, studying me carefully.
“That they know who I am, yet I don’t.” It’s true. I don’t. I used to know who I was. Why I was here and my purpose. I had a vision for what my life was going to be like, but I had a life worth living because I had someone to live for. Now I don’t. Giving birth to a baby is only a small part of becoming a mother. I had become a mother when I saw those two pink lines telling me that I was pregnant. That was when my thoughts started to shift into mother mode. Now? I can’t.
I take another sip of my drink, refilling it with the bottle of whiskey that’s sitting beside Eli. So much for just one glass and I don’t drink. It’s just Eli, Cash, Jase, and Hunter sitting with me. I notice how they all surround me like loyal wolves. They may be savage, they may be heartless, ruthless, and completely unattainable to most people, but with me, they’re different. I know that and respect it. It is subtle, but it’s there.
“Princessa, I think you’ve had enough…” Hunter says, judging me while passing the bottle of whiskey.
“Last I checked.” I snatch the bottle from him and pour more into my glass. That’s right. Glass. I get a motherfucking whiskey glass while everyone else here is drinking out of red Solo cups. “I’m my own woman, and also, no one owns me—”
“—You sure about that?” Nate’s voice interrupts us. I stiffen, refusing to turn and face him. “break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored” by Ariana Grande starts playing.
“Positive!” I roll my eyes, ignoring the fact that he looks more beautiful than ever.
His hair is a deadly combination of I don’t give a fuck and I stepped off the cover of a GQ magazine. His tattoos sneak out of his collar, wrapping around his neck, as well as all of his arm tattoos that peek out from beneath his sharp white tee. All of that matched with black ripped jeans and Timberlands is a pot of witchcraft, threatening to spill over the edges and curse us all.
“You gonna be mad at me forever or what?” he jokes. His jokes are never funny when his lips are curved in that satanic smile. I shoot back the rest of my drink.
“Yes.”
I stand up, realizing I want to switch my poison. I’m not really a whiskey girl. In fact, I hate the stuff. If I’m going to drink, I’d like to get a sugar hit as well.
Nate stills, his eyes falling down my body. I fucking love this song.
“Well, well, well, my little terror clearly looks like she’s out to play tonight,” Brantley mutters, sidestepping Nate and making his way to me.
I feel his hands on my waist, but Nate’s eyes are what I feel the most. He’s not touching me, but he doesn’t need to. That’s just Nate. That’s me, and that’s him, but whatever we have, it’s not enough for me to forgive him. I still don’t understand his wrath when he locked me in the cell, and until someone tells me why, I’ll continue to not understand it. He turned feral, and I saw the worst of him, but lately, he has also been showing me more of the side that made me fall in love with him to begin with. I hate it. It’s so much easier to hate him when he’s being mean.
“Play, she will,” I whisper, swallowing the remainder of my drink anyway. Nate’s eyes are still on mine. I hate that I’m a slave to the way he makes me feel. I don’t like not being in control, and that’s exactly what he does to me—he takes my control. When he watches me, he doesn’t just look at me. He studies me, examines me, strips the flesh from my bones with a simple squint of an eye.
I quickly shove past everyone and make my way into the kitchen in search for something with an actual taste instead of drinking lighter fluid.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket and I answer it without checking to see who it is.
“You’re at Brantley’s, aren’t you?” Madison says through the phone. I go to open my mouth to tell her that I was going to actually mention that to her, but she cuts me off. “Don’t. I understand, Tillie. I just wish—I wish I could talk to you.”
“You can, Madison. Whatever is going on with the two of you, you know that I’m always here and I understand—”
My response is cut short because the front door opens, and Madison and Tate walk through, dressed to the fucking nines.
Tillie
I rush forward tripping on my two left feet and tipping over glasses on my way.
Madison smiles before throwing her arms around my neck.
“Madison…”
“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, gest
uring 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…”
“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.
