The Broken Puppet (Elite Kings Club, #2)

by Amo Jones

To the girls who have been through hell but come out with its fire burning through their soul, its crimson bleeding from their heart, and the devil as their side bitch. This one’s for you. For us. Straighten that crown. Deuces.

The man smiled in a way that made me clutch my teddy, Puppie, tighter. “You don’t call the shots. She’s a Venari. You will have to run, and run fast if you don’t want this catching up with you.” My mom clutched the locket on her chest. “She…,” my mother whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks. “She’s just a kid, Lucan. She… she—” “Is the Silver Swan, Elizabeth. You must run. Now, before Hector finds out.”

“It’s just…. Listen, you need to do this right if you’re going to do it. Get all the documents he needs from you, but withdrawal all the cash you need for now. He’s not cheap. You can’t carry over ten grand in cash if you fly internationally, so withdrawal ten thousand, and then another eight to get everything you need from Benny.” She pauses, giving me his number, and I quickly add it to my phone. “He will charge you four thousand each.” She pauses and looks at me. “Run, Madi. Run and don’t ever come back, because regardless of what Bishop feels about you?” She searches my eyes. “It means nothing. It meant nothing when it came to Khales, either.” “What do you mean? What do you know about Khales?” Her face turns hard. “I know he put a bullet right between her eyes.”

“No, you’re not. You’re Madison Montgomery, and you’re a fucking boss-ass bitch who feels, Mads. That’s a big deal. More people should feel.” “Felt,” I whisper, my tears now dry. “They used me as their puppet. Now I’m broken.”

Saltare cum morte solutio ligatorum inventae sunt in verbis conectuntur et sculptilia contrivisset in sanguine et medullis.

Riddles dance with death when the words are inked in blood and carved with marrow.

trust her with my life, but it’s the people you trust with your life who you want to protect the most.

Exhaling, and with a slight eye roll, I turn around, my gaze instantly locking on Bishop. I suck in a deep breath at the way his eyes command mine immediately. Everything ceases to exist whenever he’s in the vicinity, which ultimately pisses me off. I hate that I can never control my body whenever he’s in the room.

“Why do you like breaking me?” He smirks slightly, just enough that I see his dimple on the side of his cheek. “Because it gets my dick hard to put you back together.” His response doesn’t surprise me, not in the slightest. “But,” I add, stepping forward, “you never put me back together properly. You steal parts of me, so when you do put me back, I’m all crooked, cracked, and still visibly broken.”

“Because being broken is how you’re going to survive this life, Madison.”

“Trust no one. Fear no one. Fuck everyone,” I whisper to myself, pushing my long hair away from my face.

“Riddle me this, Kitty. What happens when you drink from poison, thinking it’s love, but when you get hit with the buzz, things start to fuzz, until you can’t breathe, and your suffocating becomes the release?”

This is Bishop Vincent Hayes—king of no emotions and zero fucks given.

I tap on his arm, looking deep into his eyes. I’m barely able to make out his sharp eyes and jaw in the dark. His lip curls in a devious grin that makes me both weak in the knees and in the head, because that grin should really put the fear of God into me—and it does. But it also has my stupid lady bits tingling.

“One more time, Madison, or I’m going to fuck you with this knife and lick your blood clean off as you watch.”

“Fear is your patch, babe. We all have our patches. Those little spaces that could bring us to our knees if dabbled with.”

“I didn’t have one,” Bishop confesses. “It’s how my father raised me, why I am who I am. Our blood, I mean, who we are, we can’t afford to have a patch. My dad doesn’t have one either. He married my mom for a cover, not for love—not that I’m talking about love.” He looks toward me to enhance his point then focuses back on the road. “But I’m just saying, I can’t have one. The fucking feelings I get when I think someone is fucking with you, though?” He breathes out a gush of air. “I’d kill them in an instant and not think twice about doing it. That may not be because I caught feelings for you or anything like that. It could just be because we’re sort of… friends. In a fucked way.”

Et delicatis praetulissem, sicut truncum arboris fluitantem olor et quasi argentum bullet sicut mortiferum. - As alluring as a floating swan, but as deadly as a silver bullet.

“Because women can’t be trusted. Because women are easily distracted by fame and money. Because the amount of power the Silver Swan could gain would be immense, because that thing between your legs is a weakness. A patch. It’s alluring, and it’s distracting.”

As alluring as a peaceful swan floating on water, but as lethal as a silver bullet.”

I care about Nate, I do. More than I like to admit it, but I do. I’ve always had an inkling of feelings for him deep down, and though I squash them and bring it down to him being my brother, I can’t help it. My heart aches when his does and beats when he’s happy. Whether that’s what usually happens when you have a brother, I don’t know—I wouldn’t know. The feelings are new to me, so I’m still trying to work them out.

I’m just about to close the door when a woman’s voice stops me. “Excuse me!” she interrupts from the main entrance. “Madison? Montgomery?” I look her up and down, not sure whether I should respond or drive off. How could she know my name? The young boy stills, his jaw tensing. “Uhh.” I internally battle with how to answer. Looking at her again, I notice how she’s dressed immaculately. Tight black pencil skirt, blood-red silk blouse, dark hair pinned up in a tight high ponytail, sharp stilettos. Oh yeah, this woman oozes power and money. “Yeah?” My brain-to-mouth filter malfunctions, because I sure as fuck did not authorize that answer. “She doesn’t need a reservation.” The woman floats down the marble steps and makes her way toward us. “I don’t?” I reply, confusion no doubt evident on my face. “No, honey.” She smiles, taking my hand. “Come on in. I’ll get the keys to your room.” She must know my father; that’s the only explanation I have. Because how else would she know my name and who I am? Looking over my shoulder at the young valet, his face is tilted toward the ground, his expressions not visible from where I’m walking. When he looks back to me, his eyes catch mine like a magnet, and I instantly feel a strange sense of familiarity with him. His eyes are milk chocolate, his skin pale, his cheekbones are high and defined, and his jaw is angular. From what I can tell, he can’t be older than sixteen, maybe seventeen—he’s young. His body isn’t very large either; it’s more o...

“Knowledge not power. Knowledge in this world can be a weapon, or a reason.”

“Katsia… she….” “Who the fuck is she?” I drop my tone an inch. “Seriously, Damon, I’ve read the title-less book. Her diary or suicide note or whatever!” Damon’s eyes turn hard and cold. “Tacet a Mortuis.” “Pardon?” I ask, confused with his Latin again. “Tacet a Mortuis is the name of the book. In English is Whispers from the Dead.” “Oh.” My eyebrows pull together in confusion. The Book is still easier to say than Tacet a Mortuis, but okay.

“Parking spot fifteen. Madison, you must leave now.” I shake my head. “No. I need answers. I’m sick of waiting for people to tell me when they’re ready. I need to know now.” “I can’t.” He shakes his head. “Madison. I have person very close to me who will be in danger if I tell anything.” I smile. “It’s okay, Damon. I can figure it all out on my own.” “No.” He shakes his head. “You not understand.” “I do,” I reply softly, touching his arm. “I understand. I have people who I’d protect too.” He shakes his head again. “Person is you, Madison.” Wait. I squeeze the keys in my hand. “Me?” He nods. “Etiam.” “But you only just met me.” His eyes glare into mine, the stare so strong I almost flinch at the electricity that passes between us. “You think this first time we’ve met?” A long stretch of silence passes through us as I look from one eye to the other. “I… I—” But even as I’m about to say it, I know I do remember. “I—yes? I don’t know, Damon!” Feeling myself getting frustrated at all the mystery, I blow out a whoosh of air. “Tell me.” He grips my arm again and starts tugging me toward the parking lot. “Come.” I follow, noticing how his grip loosens as we get closer to my car, like he knows I’m safer the closer I get. “Open.” He gestures toward the SUV, and I obey, beeping it unlocked as we both slip inside. I toss my bag to the back and shut my door, the enclosed space feeling safer to talk now. “You gotta give me something here, Damon. What is Venari? What does that mean? I ha...

“Why?” I ask, needing to know more information. “Why do you know the most? Why do I feel a connection to you I’ve never felt before? Why is it that I trust you even though I trust barely anyone?” He looks at me. “You are my sister. I’m your twin.”

“What?” I snap. I swear to God, if this turns all supernatural-y, I will demand that Dean Winchester roar into my life in his fucking muscle car and sweep me off my feet, or I’m done.

Nate is lethal; he could snap someone’s neck with his bare hands and not blink, but Bishop? Bishop is a different level entirely. He’d not only snap your neck; he’d dissect your body piece-by-piece and send each of your organs to a member of your family.

“I’m so fucking angry at you, Kitty. I don’t know whether I should fuck you or kill you or both,”

“When I fucking say don’t trust someone, Madison. You don’t trust them.”

“Gotta say, this is getting my dick hard like nothing. It’s a dangerous thing you have me feeling, Kitty. The angrier you make me, the more I want to fuck you until you’re so fucking bruised that you feel the wrath of my anger for weeks after.”

“Do that again, and I’ll knee you in the nuts, grab my .45, and shoot your fucking hand clean off.” Bishop smirks, his tongue running over his bottom lip. “You do that…” His eyes dance in mischief—black magic kind of mischief. “…and I’ll wash your hair with my blood while you choke on my dick.”

“The kitty has claws, so I’d watch it,” Nate warns.

“Calm down, Bishop. It was a hard night, and you can’t say shit.” “Oh really?” Bishop looks to me. “Because I don’t remember the last time I was sucking face with another girl since you, Mads, so fill me in here. Is that what I need to do? Start fucking around so you fucking get where I’m coming from?” “Bishop,” I stand to my feet, “you’re being ridiculous. We’re not together. Never have been! You’re the one who said all that ‘no labels’ bullshit at the lake.” “Didn’t know I had to outline ‘don’t be a slut,’ Madison.” “I’m not a fucking slut!” I yell. “I haven’t slept with anyone but you, so fuck you!” Bishop shakes his head. “Nah, you just like making guys

When you fall for the devil, make sure you don’t land facedown with his horns stabbed through your heart.

“We’ve all lost our mind, baby, but that’s how we all found each other. We’re all lost, but we’re all lost on the same road.”

When my eyes connect with Bishop’s, I mutter, “I’ve lost my appetite.” Nate pulls me into him. “Naw, don’t mind him.” He sends Bishop a wink. “He just doesn’t like others playing with his toys.” “I’m not his toy.” “I’m right here,” Bishop grunts. “Really?” I say sarcastically. “Because I don’t see you.” “Okay, Kitty,” Nate chuckles, tucking me under his arm. “You’re not you when you’re hungry. Let’s go.”

“As I said earlier,” I reply, tossing my salad around with my fork, “I have a lot to tell you.” “You’re not telling her shit,” Bishop snaps, looking at me. I finally acknowledge him. He’s so close—too close to me—that I can almost feel his breath fall over my lips. “And I said you can’t tell me what the fuck to do, Bishop.” He chuckles, tossing a carrot in his mouth—my carrot. “Oh, Madison. You have no idea the kind of things that tone does to me.”

“Because he feels nothing. No remorse, no love, no nothing. Daemon is void of natural human emotions. He does not feel physical pain, nor emotional pain. He was born this way. Then he was trained on top of that. He’s a very rare human, but he also suffers from the shadows.”

Bishop laughs, placing the water on the counter. “Almost? There’s no such thing as almost when it comes to me, Madison. I don’t make mistakes; I make moves. If I do something, you bet your ass I thought about every single thing that had to do with it. I’m not unhinged. I’m calculated. I know exactly what I’m doing when I’m doing it, and you wanna know why that makes me the worst kind of monster?” he asks, though he really doesn’t want me to answer, so I stay silent—for once. “Because I’ve thought about the act over and over again in my head, and every time I asked myself if it was the right thing to do?” He inches closer to me, shoving his hands into his pockets. “It’s always a yes. So no, Madison.” He leans against the counter. “I don’t ‘almost’ kill anyone. If I want them dead, they will be dead. No matter what.”

Bishop takes one step. “Because…” Another step. “You are Madison fucking Montgomery…” Step. “The Silver motherfucking Swan.” Double step. “So get your fucking ass upstairs.” The tip of his shoe hits mine. “Now,” he growls.

There’s vengeance in her blood, and we all know that once vengeance seeps into your blood, there’s no extracting that from your system.

“Bishop….” His lips skim over my shoulder, his breath falling on my cool skin. “Who owns you?” Then he licks me from shoulder blade to shoulder blade while his hand on my thigh travels up to my apex. “Who owns you, Madison?” I moan out slightly, biting down on my bottom lip. He squeezes. “I’m not a patient man.” “Why?” I ask. Even in the midst of my lust, my stubborn ass still can’t let some shit go. His fingertips dig into the flesh of my thigh. “Say it. Tell me what I want to hear,” he growls, his lips pressing against the rim of my earlobe. “You.” Shit. He chuckles into my ear. “Good.” His hand sprawls over my stomach. “Because you’re about to get fucked like I don’t.”

Bishop stops. His eyes look straight into mine, commanding the entire room while summoning my fucking soul. Because that’s what he does. When his stance changes to this one—one I’ve only seen twice now—he stares into my eyes and summons my soul. But with my soul come my demons, and I think that’s the part he’s only just figuring out.

“Hey,” he whispers. “Look at me.” I shake my head. “I sort of don’t want to.” “Why?” he whispers again, and I know in his tone that he’s being honest. “Because.” “Because why, Madison?” “Because you steal some of my soul every time you do that thing with your eyes.”

“I’d never fucking share you. Period. Yes, we fuck around a bit, but the boys know there’s a line when it comes to you, and if any of them cross it, I have no problem being a King short.”

“He claimed you that first day you walked into Riverside, Kitty. You’re gonna have to give me more than that.”

“Well…” Nate begins, standing from the bed and walking toward me. “When it comes to real shit, I mean shit he cares about—which is pretty much nothing, aside from you—you’re safe. I can vouch for that, Kitty.” He pulls some loose strands out from under my shirt. “He won’t hurt you.” “Promise?” I ask, looking into his eyes. Nate nods. “I promise.”

“None of that matters. We aren’t a thing. There’s only one—or maybe two girls who had the power to change that, and one of them was you. Anyway, you feeling okay? You need anything?”

“Yes, trust. It’s the feeling you get when you know someone won’t hurt you. It’s loving someone and knowing they wouldn’t betray you.”