Here Lies a Saint: A Dark Bully Academy Romance Read online

  Table of Contents

  Here Lies a Saint

  Playlist

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Acknowledgements

  © 2020 C.L. Matthews

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, copied or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without written expressed permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design: Opulent Swag and Designs

  Editor: Nicole Zoltack

  Proofread: Rumi Khan

  Format: Opulent Swag and Designs

  The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows, and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as advertisement. Trademark names are used in an editorial fashion with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and please purchase your own copy.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior express, written consent of the author

  To my husband.

  You sacrifice it all for me just like they do for her.

  I’d be nothing without you.

  Special appreciation to Corpse Husband.

  Your music and streams

  got me through my hardest writer’s block.

  To my team,

  I love you.

  I suppose

  I love my scars

  because

  they have

  stayed with me

  longer

  than most people

  have.

  NIKITA GIL

  Playlist

  Miss YOU! – Corpse

  White Tee – Corpse

  Cabin Fever – Corpse

  Never Satisfied – Corpse

  Cat Girls Are Ruining My Life – Corpse

  E-girls Are Ruining My Life – Corpse

  Train Wreck – James Arthur

  Hold Me While You Wait – Lewis Capaldi

  Degenerates – A Day to Remember

  Someone Else – SayWeCanFly

  Writing on the Walls – Underoath

  A Boy Brushed Red Living in Black and White – Underoath

  You Broke Me First – Tate McRae

  Not Your Barbie Girl – Ava Max

  The Host of Seraphim – Dead Can Dance, Mark Isham

  Cradles – Sub Urban

  Prologue

  I know my life isn’t promised a happy ending.

  It isn’t offered closure.

  But with my death, my sister can thrive.

  She can live.

  She can love.

  She can exist.

  My being gone won’t fix everything, but it will protect her and allow her the room to succeed. Hopefully, she can one day forgive me.

  My sins.

  My faults.

  My story.

  Until then, I’m hoping she’ll overcome and be stronger than ever. Because that’s who Colton Hudson is. She’s a fighter. She’s a warrior with her own swords brandished to ward off evil.

  Now, it’s time for goodbye.

  I love you, little sis.

  Chapter One

  Night of death

  Cassidy

  I'm not ready for tonight.

  It can go two ways. One, I'll find the ledger, or two, I'll waste another night pretending to party with people who mean nothing to me.

  After trailing toward my walk-in closet, I stand in front of my mirror and notice the raggedness of my eyes. Usually, they're this barely present opal color. It changes in the light, drawing in less color more often than not. Right now, though, they're lackluster and raw. Tiredness surrounds the blue, almost a warning of what sleeplessness can do to the pallor.

  My cheeks are fairly gaunt. In all fairness, I haven't been able to eat. Between staring at books, files, and the internet most days and nights, I'm pretty exhausted, and I often forget that my body needs sustenance. It’s not rugby season, so I haven't been a slave to the gym either.

  What has my life become?

  This is my last chance, my last hurrah to find out everything and save Colt before she has to be forced into a life she’s not prepared for. I've spent the last few years running toward the truth while hiding from my own truths. It's a conundrum not lost on me.

  Right now, as my gaze slices through my attire, I cringe a little. What's life without a little loss? I've lost love. I've lost weight, and I'm minutes away from losing my soul.

  All in good time, right?

  My fingers caress the pocket of my navy polo, the emblem of Arcadia. The logo is made up of a black emblem with an emerald green serpent in the center, around it are more serpents, snaking their way around the crest. It's something that never appealed to me. Being compared to snakes isn't exactly a simile I'm fond of.

  Lennox and Jordan told me to wear trunks. Apparently, they’re all planning on swimming. While I don't intend to be around long enough to mingle, I put on my duo trunks. They're almost cargo shorts but are also lined with swim-wear material.

  They already gave me a talk about going to the party—Jordan saying shit he shouldn't, Ross flirting with my little sister, and Ridge pretending that doesn't bother him.

  They think they're sly, that they and Colt can hide and I wouldn’t notice. They're wrong. I’m aware of it all.

  Their brief touches.

  The whispers late at night.

  Hickeys—which are gross by the way—lining their necks.

  I'm not stupid, let alone ignorant of what goes on around me. To be an Emerald and in the position I'm in, no less, seeing everything is a requirement.

  I'm a Hudson.

  The only son of my bloodline after my uncle Reid. I'm the only one who can be where I am.

  My place at the top.r />
  Next in line is Edgington.

  While Maxim would have been an amazing president before me, he never got the chance, and unlike him, my secrets will die with me. My bloodline will continue on, but I'll never make my kids do this bullshit.

  I'll infiltrate from the roots and pull them free, taking every motherfucker along with me. This academy will know blood, and their archaic methods will die along with their pride.

  Anything to free us all is my sacrifice to make.

  Removing my polo, I decide it’s better to sink into the background rather than be a beacon of Arcadia. By the time I trail over to the event, my fingers twitch with nervous anticipation. Tonight could change everything.

  Everyone has already arrived at the party. I'm the loose end, so to speak, but being the last to show up at this party will prove what I need to know.

  That they are involved.

  If they are involved, I'll know where to find the ledger while they’re preoccupied. If they’re rats, I won’t make it out of here and I’ll find a workaround.

  Every place in this tower brings a sense of disdain. Not only is it where blood is spilled every year when people get too drunk at events, but it's also where I watched four guys paw my sister, thinking it was in secret.

  They really fucking believed I fell for their bullshit, that they cared about her. If they cared about her, if their hearts beat for her and they loved her, truly, then why hurt her by lying?

  Colt doesn't know about the Emerald Vestige, nothing more than I've explained before I knew what it was. Even then, I knew nothing. Now, I would never let her join, but she's already a foot in. Becoming part of Student Government is a death sentence she signed in blood.

  It's the beginning.

  And she fucking fell for it.

  I grab a glass of water and watch. Colt dances in the center. Ross and Lux surround her. Those fuckers better keep their distance. They're not worthy. They'll never be worthy as long as they're part of the societal death sentence.

  She smiles at them, truly smiles. Her face morphs into one of happiness. Denying my little sister anything isn't something I'm keen on doing, but them? The toxic brutes who aren't who they say they are, the secrets they hide, and the life Colt could never have are all too much. She needs to get away. Get out of here.

  My sister and I are always mistaken for twins. They're not far off. She's my Irish twin. Our eyes, our hair, and even our facial features are eerily similar. Being born eleven months apart is supposedly how our similarities happen, but in reality, I think it's our father.

  His DNA is strong.

  Pure.

  A bloodline erased and eradicated from Arcadia years ago.

  But Colt doesn't know, and I'll never tell her. Holding onto that information practically promises bad health and the inability to live freely.

  Rotating for my water, it's refilled. I take a drink and notice when I turn around Colt is gone. As much as I would love to hunt her down, I have so much more to do.

  After sipping the last drink of my water, I set it down and head toward the back entrance of the cabin, leaving the Crystal tower altogether. It's where initiations happen. There are five rooms and the main living area. A fireplace is here, a hearth.

  Upstairs, there’s this old attic. All of us have tried breaking the lock to no avail. I'm hoping to get inside tonight, but with the lock, I’m a little nervous. I’m sure it’s like the books state, that there’s only three founding families who hold the keys and will be able to get in, my hope may be fruitless.

  I take out my lock-picking kit. I've learned a thing or two over the last few years. It's what you have to do when you're determined to detangle a century's worth of lies and secrets.

  Getting to the trunk of a tree isn't what matters. It's going to the roots tangled in the earth spread out as wide as the treetop itself and killing it from there. That’s where it begins to make a difference.

  A click in the lock snicks when I've rotated the mechanism enough to match. When I open the door, my heart sinks.

  It's empty.

  There's absolutely nothing in this room.

  Not a chair, nor a desk, and definitely not where I imagined finding the information I need.

  Rushing out of there, I feel staying is too much of a risk. I shut the door, going upstairs and wondering if this whole thing is a setup or if they really have a vacant locked room for intrigue alone.

  Taking the steps two at a time, I don't stop at the floor where we always hang out. Instead, I go up and up and don't stop until I've hit the top. The attic is another place on my list.

  After pulling the drop ladder down, I finagle my way through. Looking around and not seeing any witnesses, I close the hatch and bring out my phone as a flashlight. When I turn it on, my heart stops.

  It can't be.

  My eyes run around the room, the very room I remember seeing as a kid. There's a hope chest engraved with Grim. A standing mirror is surrounded by cherry wood etched with daffodils and wheat. A big poster bed in the center is attached to a frame that matches the mirror and chest.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  I think of how much I remember about this room. What brought me here all those years ago. The fear laced in every breath I took.

  The walls are bare. They're that eggshell color real estate agents inform you sells best when putting your house on the market. There's a carpet, old and withered but entwined with life and madness.

  What draws my attention most is the way the moonlight shines in through the glass above the window pane. It's shaped like... fuck. It's shaped like a serpent. I stare at the ground at where it points—on top of the rug.

  This feels like some weird-ass fantasy novel, the light coming into a room and pointing at the ground. Maybe it's a coincidence? It's not like this is fiction.

  I move the carpet over from the floor and see a hatch. The center of the lock looks exactly like the little emblem on my necklace. I pull it from around my neck, the sword Mom gave me for my sixteenth birthday shining bright against the flashlight pointed at the wood hatch. Sliding it into the metal-encased lock, I turn it until a click sounds out.

  "Fuck," I audibly gasp.

  Inside the floor sits a book.

  The one I've been looking for.

  The one I've spent the last year in search of.

  The one that'll save us all.

  Chapter Two

  Present

  Lennox

  I warned Colt.

  But like every time I’ve tried giving advice to her, she doesn't take it.

  When you're raised in this world, told what would happen if you break the rules of the game, and beaten until those warnings become creed, you know when shit will go down.

  Stopping Colt before she made it to the Dean's office was for her protection. Did I know they'd kill Yang for her part in this? No. Did I know Yang would be here? No. Did I know someone would pay the price for them running amuck and seeking answers they had no right to have? Yes.

  If anything, though, I thought they would hurt Colt.

  I stare at Colt on the sodden ground. It smells of death, dew, and sadness.

  Her eyes are filled to the brim with sorrow. Her normally dark contrasted face full of makeup is bare. Her blue eyes, the ones I've loved since seeing them the first time, are present. They're crystal clear and visible in every sense.

  The pure heartbreak she's experiencing has me on edge. Not for Yang but for Colt. Unlike Colt, Yang knew the rules. She knew what she was doing.

  She betrayed the cause and paid for it.

  We’re still with Yang’s body in the grass outside. "Everyone needs to leave," Dean Rimbaur explains, clutching her chest. She's in a nightgown and robe. Her intent was apparently sleep, while the rest of the guys and I prepared for the walls to tumble.

  None of us make a move to leave.

  She narrows her eyes at us. "Mr. DeLeon, you may be student body president, and your father
may be one of our largest donors, but you do not get to disobey me."

  Emily Rimbaur is a formidable woman. She's tiny, a buck twenty-five tops and short, but her tenacity and drive to prove that having a pussy doesn't make her weak is definitely something to respect.

  I nod at the others, and all but Tennison leave. His face is ashen, depleted of what little light he has, and seeing his fear and the trepidation in his posture and knowing he's as stiff as Yang's body... I can’t fix all that.

  He's the empath of the bunch.

  Feels too much, experiences it all, and hurts others to offset the pain riddled inside him.

  Much like Ross, Tennison uses his humor to counteract his pain. Unlike Ross, he's constantly and visibly unhappy. Ross acts the sobering kind of happy. Fake. Over the top. Flagrantly obtuse.

  "Going to get him?" Jordan asks, placing a hand on my shoulder. We’re in the tree line between Opal and Crystal.

  I shrug him off, still not over the bullshit he said about Maxim. Hell, or the shit he said about Cassidy.

  He smirks at me, that fucker with his charming persona and asshole reality. I hate it.

  I hate him.

  "He's coping how he can."

  "He didn't even like her," Ridge comments, following us close behind as we trail through the aspens. The air is humid, the cold kind that brings a clamminess to skin and an unbearable bone-deep chill.

  "She's not who he's coping for."

  "She'll be fine," Ross mutters, but when I rotate and spy his solemn expression, I know as much as he does that she won't be.

  She lost Cass less than a year ago. Yang might have been at Duponte this year, but she mattered to Colt, keeping her sane and happy during the times we’d abandoned her.

  "Yang knew what she was doing," Ridge adds, and I want to smack him for stating the obvious. Whether he said it to make us all more aware of the fine line we dance on or because he needs to believe it himself to stop pussyfooting around the truth we all hide, we need to keep our distance now more than ever.

  The winter assembly will be here in days, and while Yang was murdered, they'll cover it up. They'll say it was something like she got wasted and mauled by a bear. Then, we'll go on pretending life isn't shit and we don't lie to cover up the fact that everyone here is suspect.