Here Lies a Saint: A Dark Bully Academy Romance Page 10

  Mom: We're here, Colton. Where are you?

  Mom: I need you to call me! Don't ignore me. It's disrespectful!

  Moms: Your room is empty. Are you safe? Please just let me know you're safe.

  Mom: If this is some sick joke, you're grounded. I'm taking your credit cards away.

  Moms: Please, Colton, baby. It's the Winter Assembly. Your Mom and I came just to support you.

  Unknown: Stay away from the events today.

  Unknown: Don't come. No matter what, Colton. Stay wherever you are.

  I check the time. It's already three in the afternoon. I slept until the next day, and I already missed the first half of the assembly I never intended to go to.

  But with people telling me to stay away, rebelling sounds like the way to go.

  They don't own me.

  Not anymore.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Colt

  By the time I've taken a quick shower, put on my face—contacts included—and headed toward where everything takes place, it's already been an hour.

  The assembly hall seems eerily quiet, but that's normal. We're not massive, about three-hundred students in total.

  Loud percussion sounds out a moment later as I'm headed toward the auditorium. The tune sends intrigue through me. They never announce what they're doing first—the show, the announcement, or the awards. Since it's three and music is only starting, they've either done the awards or announcements first. Hopefully, it's both.

  When I reach the doors on the east entrance, I notice Lindon. He's one of the school's escorts. It's their nice way of not calling him a security guard, but that's exactly what he is.

  "Miss Hudson," he remarks, opening the door.

  It's dark as fuck in here, the only lights welcoming me are the ones on the stage. Like every hierarchy, founding families have seats in the front two rows. My feet tow me along the aisles, and I get about halfway to the front when reality stops me.

  Do I want to see everyone and hate life, or do I want to hide and be able to run at any point?

  "Colton," a hushed whisper sounds out.

  Squinting, wanting my eyes to adapt to the darkness, I finally see little features.

  "Mel?" I question, calling out softly.

  Surprisingly, no one shushes me. Next to her, though, her twin brothers sit. They stare at me, Pru with longing and Just with worry. Does Just know I heard him? Heard them all?

  She taps the empty seat next to her. "Sit." After I do, she leans into me and whispers in my ear. "Apparently, they have a big announcement coming up. The awards are about to end."

  Great, I missed the only decent part of the assembly.

  But as I ponder it, watching girls shake their ass on stage isn't exactly a good thing. Blackness overcomes the room, and then the lights flicker. Dean Rimbaur is on stage, her hair in a tightly wound bun. It's not unusual for her to wear this style. She's rocking her normal pantsuit with heels, and she appears somber.

  "Arcadia Crest Academy has been my home for the last four years," she announces. Her voice feels softer, sad, and it takes me a moment to realize what she's building the mood for.

  Yang.

  "In these four years, we've encountered countless achievements, things we can all celebrate and be proud of. But with great success is great departure and loss."

  My eyes well up immediately, my chest feeling pain I can't quite fathom. She glances passively into the crowd. There's a cough and a pregnant silence. Why is she pausing? Does she want to build momentum?

  "Two days ago, an alumnus snuck onto campus."

  There are hushed whispers. Gossip isn't any less here than any public school. If anything, they're desperate for every ounce of drama. The voices pick up, causing the Dean to continue.

  "She was mentally ill, sad."

  Lies. Fucking lies. I knew it was coming. That's how Arcadia works. You never die from murder, hysteria, or anything scandalous. You die from mental illness, being sick, or unknown causes.

  "She was a troubled young woman, unable to cope with graduating, going to Duponte, or even her studies. It's a lot of weight to bear."

  We sit, barely escaping from teetering off the edge, waiting on what they've ruled her murder as. I refuse to look at Melissa, the twins, anyone but our Dean.

  Trust no one.

  Everyone's voice repeats in my mind. That random stranger wasn't the first to warn me from trust, but god, the way he looked into my eyes like he could see my soul scared me.

  The realization that he is knowledgeable about the nefarious things that occur here isn't lost on me. It's fucking intimidating.

  "She decided to take some substances," Rimbaur continues. "It affected her in ways we aren’t aware of, and she drowned in the lake."

  Gasps ring out around us. Are they really this fucking daft? Seldom do we have deaths, but with Cassidy, Oliva, a senior the year before that... there's some bad shit going down, and they're ignorant if they can't see it. Do they not realize the lake is practically frozen?

  I go to get up, but a hand on my shoulder stops me. When I peer to the left, I see Ross.

  Bowing his head, his breath tickles my ear. "I told you to stay away, Colty. Why the fuck don't you ever listen?"

  Turning toward him, I barely miss his lips. There's a deep-rooted concern in his eyes. They're hopeless. The sad boy I've always cared too much for is coming to the surface. "Keep your head down, okay? Whatever happens, just know... it wasn't intentional on my part."

  "What are you talking about?" I whisper-hiss.

  He closes his eyes slowly. Dropping a kiss to my forehead, he leaves, walking toward the front with the rest of the McAllisters. Everyone except Olivia... She never had a chance.

  Rimbaur continues speaking about Yang as if she was troubled and not killed. After she finishes it, having the fucking balls to pretend to cry, she starts going over school announcements. We'll continue onto winter break. Tests are still finalizing this week, and the new semester will start January.

  "We have a special guest here. He has come to announce something different. Apparently, it's a treat, one we're not used to."

  What the fuck does that mean? I shake my head.

  A man walks up the steps and to the podium. He's brutal and harsh looking. Not a smile or nice bone to be found anywhere near his face. There's this chilling way he absorbs the whispers of the room, demanding attention in an uncharacteristic kind of way.

  "Arcadia," he bellows over the mic. Everyone flinches at the strength of his voice. It's deep, gravelly like a rocky road straight to the cemetery. "I haven't stepped in these halls for nearly twenty years."

  He adjusts his tie, and then almost as if he knows I'm sitting exactly where I am, his eyes find mine.

  "Today is special. Very much indeed."

  People whisper, and I'm in the same boat, wondering what this man has to say and why he's taking this long to articulate it.

  "What is he on about?" Mel asks, nudging my shoulder.

  "Not sure," I mutter, not wanting to look away from the brutal man standing at center stage, staring at me like he's about to destroy my life.

  "The Edgington Fund was created a few years back with the loss of my son, Maximillian. We always select a student to receive an internship position. As long as they're present during the assembly, of course." His eyes narrow directly at me. "It's an honor. We only take on one to mentor through school, sorting them out until they're prepared to go to the university of their choosing."

  I swallow, not liking where this is going.

  "I've already informed the recipient's parents. They will be happy and grateful to know we've signed a contract upon their attendance today."

  Fuck.

  There's no way.

  "But first, we'd like to announce another bit of news. It's something uncouth, I'm sure, but I've been given the blessing of your lovely dean."

  Sweat lines my head, my stomach feeling all sorts of things, none of them pleasant. Mel grips my han
d next to me, almost as if she feels my tension or the anxiety around me. It permeates, stabbing at me repeatedly as I try to contain all the angst inside me, readying to boil over at the drop of the word.

  "Edgington & Estates has always sought alliances with bigger companies, an expansion of sorts. It may seem trivial for some, but any founding family here will agree it's quite normal. My son, Jordan, has accompanied me today, agreeing in full."

  My stomach drops.

  Edgington.

  The files.

  Mel taps me incessantly, looking at me with anxiety. "It's Jordan," she repeats the thought in my head. "The file we found."

  My eyes widen more, but yes, the files. Jordan Edgington. The family crest, the ties to our township. Fuck. I gulp, my body trembling. What can they possibly be announcing?

  "Jordan will be marrying come February of next year."

  "What the fuck?" Melissa and I ask at the same time, peering at each other.

  Everyone in hearing range glares at us, but we can't contain the shock this information brings.

  Hell, I can't contain the growing jealousy it brings me. He's not mine by any means, but that doesn't mean I want to see him with anyone else.

  "I've spoken with Roderick Krane, the oil mogul," he explains. "His daughter Melissa will be the beautiful bride on my son's arm."

  Melissa drops her hand from my shoulder. The absolute horror on her face is enough to tell me she's not aware of this.

  "They will be having a Valentine's wedding. We've already picked a venue near Valentine's Edge." A bunch of chuckles ring out at that. "Yes, it was intentional. A lover's cliff for the lovers to be."

  My body starts heaving, and I can't help but rise. The lack of food and pills and the need for a fucking smoke clog me until my eyes blur.

  When I rise, the man's voice stops me in my tracks.

  "Don't go anywhere, Miss Hudson. You're the best part yet," Mr. Edgington interrupts my escape.

  I swallow harshly, the bile burning my esophagus and mouth. Sitting back down, I stare at an expressionless Melissa. Next to her, I see the grim reality. Her brothers knew. Prudence's anger can be felt all the way to my chest from his seat three over. Justice, though, he's masking his emotions entirely. There's not an expression he has that'll say what he's thinking, but I look into those eyes I've stared into on far too many occasions and see his dread.

  He knew.

  They knew.

  Mel shakes next to me, and like the good friend I've always been, I grab her hand, lacing our fingers together, waiting for what's next.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jordan

  I stare at Colt. She was mine to watch closely, but my father called me and forced me here. Now, she’s here, and she’s so fucked.

  He planned this. Somehow, the fuck knew what our times were, which means he knows too much and I’m being too careless.

  Does he know about me and Lux too?

  I close my eyes as I see the black of Colt’s mascara trail down her cheeks, but I can tell those tears aren’t for her. They’re for the girl next to her that just got told her daddy sold her off for money.

  “When I mentioned that foundation earlier, I wanted to make it the grand finale." My father gestures to the crowd.

  He set this all up, but this isn't how it’s supposed to go. He’s supposed to announce the internship. That's why we warned her. We were prepared to save her from that.

  If Father gets his claws into her, she'll be lost to us all. Whether she ends up like Olivia, Peridot—another founding child—or worse, like Cassidy, she'll be lost to us.

  It's what we've prepared to avoid, Bridger and I specifically.

  Hate the bastard, but he's always on the right side of things when it counts. He failed, though. He was supposed to fuck Melissa, get her pregnant, and force her father to bring up nuptials, but she's not pregnant, and her father found mine in the meantime.

  This is so fucked. I wasn’t supposed to have a target on my back.

  One glance around the front and I see Lux. His face is hung low, but his fists are tight, and I know it has more to do with his anger toward me for not warning him, but fuck, I didn't know.

  My mind travels to Justice. He's staring at the stage. Hatred simmers in his gaze but not for his sister, not for Colt, or what this will do to her mental state but because of his father.

  I see the recognition there. He was aware of this. There's no shock factor. He knew this would happen. Which means, every-fucking-one has lied to me.

  "Colton Hudson, would you please honor me by coming to the stage? We've selected you for the internship of a lifetime."

  She doesn't even wipe the black coating her cheeks. Rising from her seat next to Melissa, she stands, rebellious in nature. Loathing pinches her features, but she doesn't say anything. She lets Melissa's hand go. It drops almost like a thud. Zombie-like eyes haunt the assembly room.

  Melissa appears absolutely horrified at what has happened and her mental state will continue to dwindle until she accepts her life was never hers, the more she can fight back.

  Colt takes her sweet time walking to the stage. There's no fear in her gait, no resistance in her posture, but when she passes me without a glance, I can feel the animosity creeping beneath the surface.

  It scares me.

  Her apostate nature gets her into problems, much like her brother's, but it doesn't stop her. She doesn't allow threats and her own dismay stop her from revolting the man. It's something I both admire and despise about her. She's risking it all.

  For the first time in a year, I allow my heart to feel the apprehension of that fact. Unease is a natural instinct. It makes you human, really, but when the person you care for carelessly avoids thinking twice, every muscle in your body tenses to react. To save. To be more. To not be a fucking coward and face the music.

  Before she makes it to my father, I rush her, literally plowing through the seats to reach her. I can't let her do something stupid. It'll be me. I didn't sacrifice for Max, not for Lux, and definitely not Cassidy, but I'll be damned to watch the girl I want be collateral damage for a war she isn't privy to.

  "Corpse!" I yell, and she freezes. Hell, the fucking room does, staring at me running after her. I don't dare glance at my father, don't dare see the death he's plotted for me, don't dare look anywhere but at the girl—my girl—and try to save her from herself.

  "Don't talk to me," she all but hisses. It's like a fucking spider bite, venomous, deadly, promising me ruin.

  "Please don't do this," I plead. It's hushed, quieter, for only us and whoever is nearest. I grasp her arm as if I'm anchoring her here, away from depravity and self-destruction

  "It's already done," she bites, yanking her arm free of mine.

  But that's not enough. It's not. I reach for her again, gripping her, pulling her to my face. Her jaw is soft to my touch, and she looks at me with hate, displeasure, and, fuck, so much sadness. I can see the betrayals in her pink gaze. There, where she hides, it's visible. She's in more pain than she'll ever willingly admit, and seeing that, her disposition, grates at my heart like a potato peeler.

  "Please, turn around. Don't do this."

  She stiffens and then offers only despondency. "It's too late, Jordan. I have no rights here."

  I let her go, allowing her to leave, and that's when I gather enough strength to look at my father. His immense hatred marred with disappointment is as deafening as a whip in the air.

  I'll pay for this.

  With my life, unlikely, but definitely with whatever he deems fit.

  She steps up to the stadium, my father looking at her in a way that makes me uncomfortable. Like a prized kill on his wall, stuffed and hung for the onlookers, he watches her with interest.

  I didn't realize it until now, that my acting out would be fuel to his bonfire, snuffing out all those who dare touch it.

  "Please congratulate our newest intern." My father's voice booms over the loudspeaker, and I feel as if with tho
se words, he's signed off on my life. Much like with Max. My heart still beating is the only difference.

  The audience claps, and I head back to the tower, knowing I'll be reprimanded in the worst way. He won't hurt Colt in public, this much I know. He wouldn't do it himself either. His hands may be bloody from doing deeds across the world for the last two decades, but he has his footmen to do it for him now.

  By the time I get to the tower, my mind feels out of sorts. What the fuck am I supposed to do? I can't think of touching Mel, let alone marrying her, producing an heir, and whatever the fuck else my father wants of me. I'll be a gentleman and tell her I'll never touch her, but whatever is conveyed to her will be relayed to Father, and I don't trust her. With my luck, she’s in on it. The twins were. They knew.

  Fucking Kranes. Can't trust the dirty money, can we?

  Making it to my room, I stare at the wall free of dreams. It's a barren wall, matching an empty man. It's white on white on white.

  Nameless.

  Faceless.

  Nothing.

  "You're fucking stupid!"

  I hear him before seeing him. He's behind me, his anger effervescent, graspable, like a tangible thread being tugged on constantly.

  "Yeah, what does that make you, Lennox?" I return, moving to face him.

  We glare at each other. His chest heaves with rancor, but I've already accepted my fate as fucked. Why not just let it go? Wasting my mental health on hopelessness isn't smart. I knew in coming here, I'd be signing my death warrant. It's why I decided to turn off my heart and only let stiffness meet me whenever I tugged on emotions.

  "It makes me worthless. I can't save her, can't save you..." he trails off.

  The devastation he’s feeling is doing what I prayed it wouldn’t. It's cracking that lackluster wall of indifference I've erected in the hopes that no one could touch me again.

  Yet, he's here. In his regal form, mighty and commanding, he strikes me down with those hazel eyes, daring me to be brave.

  I'm not a knight. I'm not even a pauper. I'm a slave to the man, a burden to the bloodline, a conduit for all things everyone else desires.

  "I'm not meant to be saved, Lennox. Save your breath."