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“Do you trust me?” Nate asks, staring at me and waiting for my answer. “You have to be able to trust me completely from here on. Follow my cues, watch my reactions. You’re smart, but you’re fucking lethal when it comes to reading me, baby. I need you to put all of that skill into motion right now.”
“I do.” Because it’s true. I trust him with every ounce of my being, which is precisely the problem.
“Then get out of this car and follow my lead.”
I lick my lips and nod. “Okay.”
I grasp onto the door handle, swinging it open and taking a step out. My Jimmy Choo shoes crunch the gravel beneath my feet, my skinny jeans suddenly too tight. I zip my leather jacket up and beep my car.
“What about my car?”
“Leave it. Someone will collect it.”
I whisper sweet nothings at it before following behind Nate to the SUV.
Nate opens the door and the whole back seat is laid out like a limousine. He slides in and I follow.
My eyes go to the two people in front of me.
Scarlet.
Gabriel.
I wince. “What’s going on?”
Nate pulls his hoodie down, his eyes going to Scarlet. “Tell me everything.”
“Wait, you knew?” I snap at Scarlet.
She shakes her head, tears slipping down her face. “Of course not. I’m not a monster.”
I relax slightly.
“But I believe Bishop did. I don’t know what Hector gets involved in. I’ve always been on the outside—by choice. Not wanting to know, but I know what I heard.”
I freeze. “No…” I shake my head. “Bishop wouldn’t do that.”
“You seem so sure, Stuprum. My son was raised by the Devil himself. What makes you think he’s not exactly like his father? What makes you think there isn’t more as to why Madison ran away from him?”
Everything slows, my heart thundering in my chest. My mind feels dizzy, and my fingers tingle. “No,” I repeat. “He wouldn’t.”
I look to Nate, who is beside me.
“He wouldn’t.”
Nate’s jaw clenches, his eyes coming to mine. His pupils are dilated, more black than blue. “But he did.”
My mouth drops open, my eyes slowly blinking as I drag in a deep breath. My heart cracks in my chest.
Bishop had something to do with this.
Madison running away.
Madison wanting to talk to me the night we were at the party.
He fucking knew everything.
I lean over, my hands grasped around my head. “I can’t believe this…”
“Tillie…” I hear Nate’s voice somewhere in the far distance, trying to pull me back to the present. It’s like a tug-a-war. Nate on one side, my sanity on the other.
His hand comes to my thigh.
He caresses it softly. “Baby…” Then his fingers wrap around my chin, yanking my face up to his. He runs his thumb over my bottom lip, and the darkness that was closing in around me starts to reopen, Nate’s face before it all, shattering my madness to pieces.
Everything comes back to the present, my heart calming.
“Trust. Me.”
I nod.
He presses the tip of his thumb into my mouth slightly, smirking, and then releases, looking back to the two in front of us.
Feeling stronger, I sit back, my eyes going to Scarlet. “And you’re okay with us killing your husband?”
Scarlet stares. “No.” Her glare cuts to me, and I see a glimpse of her other side. “Of course I’m not. But things work differently in this world. That is something I do understand. Do you understand that, Tillie?” she asks, tilting her head.
I feel Nate still beside me.
She continues. “Because I don’t think you do. Do you know how many people have died at the hands of my husband?”
“I have an idea,” I mumble.
She fiddles with her handbag and takes out a Gucci wallet. She pulls out a photo behind the one of her, Bishop, and Hector, handing it to me after smiling at it briefly.
“Hector had a daughter once too. With another woman, no less, but I still wanted her.”
I bring my eyes down to the small baby in the image. It’s the same image that was in the cabin.
“I tried to reason with him that I could keep her and raise her as my own, but he wouldn’t allow it. Setting an example was too important. Hector is a brutal man, Tillie. He is a King before he is a husband or a father.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, handing the photo back to her.
She tucks it back into her wallet. “Don’t be sorry. I don’t want your pity. Did I kill my husband for playing a hand at her death? No. I didn’t. Because I understand this world. You are weak, Tillie Stuprum. You are so guided by mundane things like revenge that it has made you weak. So you asked me if I’m okay with this? No. I’m not. Because if I didn’t get to do it for my daughter, I don’t think you should either.”