SOMETHING JOLTING UNDERNEATH MY BODY wakes me. Looking to the side, confused about where I am, memories start to take hold. I gasp, sucking in a breath. There, sitting on the seat beside me, is Bishop.
Fuck.
“Surprised?” he asks, his eyebrow quirked.
I clear my throat. “Well, no, actually.”
He clenches his jaw, so obviously frustrated. “That’s it.” He shakes his head, whispering under his breath, “I’m locking you in the basement until this shit is sorted.”
“What?” I shriek, and that’s when the sting and the taste of metal touch the tip of my tongue. I touch my lip, memories flooding through my brain. “Oh, fuck!” I lean over, holding in my gag.
“Jesus, Kitty, out the fucking window!”
I hit the button blindly until the window cranks down. “You, you killed them.”
“I did.”
“You kill people?”
“I do.”
“Why?” I yell, just as my stomach heaves again and I lean out the window, spilling all of whatever I last ate out into the dry night air. Leaning back in, wiping my mouth, I look back to him through blurry eyes. “Why, Bishop?”
“For reasons you will never understand, Madison.” He looks toward Tatum, who is lying flat on the seat in front of us. I don’t know whose limo we’re in. Everything seems dreamlike.
“She’s asleep. I didn’t kill her.” He interrupts my thoughts with a bored tone.
“Well, I appreciate it.” I roll my eyes, failing at my attempt to not be snarky.
“Watch your fucking mouth, Madison. This is your fault. All of this!” His arms stretch wide. “You started a fucking war when you left that day.”
“Me?” I burst out. “How the fuck is that possible?” The tangy aftertaste of my being sick simmers at the back of my throat. “You did this. All of you! I still don’t understand anything!”
“How much of the book did you read?” he asks, leaning forward and bracing his arms over his knees.
“The book?” I question, tilting my head back on the headrest. My mind still swims in a daze.
“The book, Madison, the book!”
“Oh.” I clear my throat. “Um, only quarter of the way through. Why?”
“Do you have it on you?”
“It’s in my bag back at our place.”
Bishop leans forward and taps on the glass that separates us from the front seat. The window cranks down. He orders the driver to take us back to our place, the exact address.
“Wow!” I shake my head, my hands going up.
Bishop leans back into his seat. “What?” he snaps.
“How’d you know where I live?”
He laughs, pulling his hoodie over his head. “It’s cute you think I’d let you get out of this alive, Kitty, and I’ve always known where you lived. This little detour in the limo right now is just so you calm down enough to pack your shit.”
Pulling up to our low-class flat and the bar, I get out of the car, slamming the door behind me, which wakes Tatum from her deep slumber.
“Wait!” Bishop gets out, shutting the door. Ignoring his intrusive behavior, I start walking toward the side stairs in the back alley. “Madison!” he yells, his heavy footsteps getting louder and louder. “Would you fucking wait?” He grips onto my arm, tugging me backward.
I let out a frustrated scream, yanking my arm out of his grip. “Can you fucking not? God! You—”
His hand flies up to my throat, leaving me gasping for air. Pushing me backward until my back slams against the bricks, he steps between my thighs and grazes me higher up the wall. “First of all,” he squeezes until I’m sure my face is going to burst, “don’t fucking forget who the fuck you’re talking to.” He tilts his head, glancing over my face. “Second of all, you don’t get to throw your fucking weight around, Madison. I’ll lock you in a cage as soon as we get you back to the Hamptons if you don’t watch your fucking mouth.” He releases me, my feet hitting the ground.
“Fuck you.” Spinning around, I run up the metal stairs, push open the door, and head straight to my bedroom, fighting back the tears that are threatening to surface. Where the hell is my dad? Why is it that Bishop is the one who was sent to “collect” me? Did I really think I could run from them? Well yes, yes I did. Pulling open my closet, I start tearing my clothes off the hangers and throwing them onto my bed just as Bishop walks in.
“You have five minutes to get everything that means anything to you and get back downstairs. You try to run,” Bishop says, his voice dipping, “and I’ll kill you myself. I’m done playing games.” Then he walks out and leaves me in my room, clutching the dark sequined dress I wore last weekend—back when things weren’t so complicated. I mean, as complicated as us being on the run from my psychopathic whatever he is. Ex? No. That doesn’t sound right.
“Jesus,” Tatum murmurs, walking in, her hair all over her face. She rubs the palm of her hand over her forehead. “What the hell happened?”
“You passed out,” I mutter, still annoyed at Bishop and shoving clothes into my suitcase. “And you have five minutes to pack before Bishop carries us both out.”
“I saw that.” Her eyes widen. “So he found us, huh?”
I chuckle, walking into the bathroom to grab my toothbrush. “No, we were never lost from him.”