Here Lies a Saint: A Dark Bully Academy Romance Page 12

  I miss you.

  Moms pulls me into a hug, but I'm not responding. She doesn't get my love, my care, my heart. She doesn't even get my success. The only thing I'll offer any of these adults is my non-response and despondency. It's what they wanted, isn't it? For me to conform, become their little sculpture, perfectly carved in their vision?

  How ugly can a monster be when created out of their twisted vision of love?

  Hideous, absolutely hideous.

  “I'm so excited for this new adventure for you!” Moms is oohing and aahing, and I'm ready to slit my wrists upward and meet Cass again.

  At least he truly loved me.

  Truly cared.

  Truly fought.

  "Let's celebrate by going to dinner?" Moms ask when I don't respond.

  Mother dearest stares at me. There's so much in her eyes. It's scary, seeing the way she looks at me. Not like a daughter or someone she birthed but rather like a pawn.

  Isn't that the glazed look, Mom? The realization that I've never been more than someone you can use? If she could hear my inner thoughts right now, she would lock me up, send me to the fucking nut house.

  Would I be safe there?

  "She can't, Destiny. She has finals and to prep for her new opportunity to make us proud," she explains.

  My mind only sticks to the proud part. Was this a ploy all along?

  "I live to serve," I deadpan, feeling my body prickle with hatred. Behind me, I can still feel Elijah. His aura is like an explosion at my back, heating, melting, and waiting to destroy everything I hold dear.

  "She'll be just fine, Tash," Roderick sounds out, calling her by her nickname. She doesn't smile at him, though. If anything, her face pales. "She's in the best hands in Arcadia." The chilling way in which he wraps his fingers around my shoulders with aggression is answer enough.

  Mom looks at those hands and back to my face, but I don't flinch. I stand, unmoving, knowing my life ended the day I came out of my mother, and it'll start when my heart no longer beats.

  "I miss you, Colton," Moms somberly comments, hugging me.

  Is she a puppet too? Is no one here of their own mind and volition? Can she not see my discomfort? The ice in my veins I'm extracting outward, offering them nothing in return.

  They can't be this blind.

  Mom grabs Moms and hauls her off. She doesn't offer me another glance, and I realize how alone in this world I am.

  When I peer around me, I notice almost everyone has filed out of the room.

  Bridger stands nearby, his face showing nothing. I'd ask him to save me, but we all know he'd nail my coffin closed if he had the opportunity.

  Then there's Ten. He's on the side. His arms are stock straight, his fury visible, but still, he keeps his distance.

  Up a few rows, I see Ross. His solemn expression breaks something in me. My sad boy is on the surface. He's not hiding behind charm, jokes, and innuendo. He's at the forefront, breaking before my eyes.

  Jordan is gone. For someone who tried stopping me, saving me from myself and his father, no doubt, he's not here.

  Did his father hurt him?

  Is he okay?

  It's insane how my mind will travel to others when my own life isn't secure or safe.

  I peer up further, looking for Melissa and the twins. They're gone.

  That's when it hits me.

  Lux is gone too.

  "Time to get your affairs in order, Colt. For the next four weeks of winter break, you're mine."

  "Yours?" I mock loudly, enough that all heads turn to us. "Not a fucking chance, old man."

  Ten smirks, almost as if he wants me to fight. Ross's expression falls further, and Bridger looks ready to murder.

  "Boys," Elijah sounds out. "Make sure she's prepared for our departure."

  Ross runs a palm down his face. Ten closes his eyes stiffly, but it's Bridger who somehow hurts me most. He walks over to me, grabs my arm, and then looks behind me.

  "I'll do it."

  "W-what?" I stutter, not knowing what to ask or say or anything in-between. I'm stuck, frozen on his agreement. How could they?

  "You know him?" I dare myself to question.

  Bridger's hand clamps down harder, a warning. I face him, pleading, feeling the tears begin to well up again.

  "He's the president of the Founding Family Council. We all know him."

  "Get her out of my sight. Make sure she wipes this gothic garbage off her face. No one sits at my table with all of that all over their face."

  "Sir," Bridger acknowledges before pulling me away.

  I don't turn back to look at the others, at Jordan's father, at what the fuck I've just learned.

  At this moment, I feel every bit of the ragdoll they called me at the party months ago.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Past

  Cassidy

  My thighs burn as I run back and forth for my workout. Pumping my calves to lessen the strain on my thighs is a feat in itself. We're midseason, working harder than ever before. Recently, we lost a game to the Valridge Trojans. They're one of our biggest competitors; we're always fighting for the spot as number one. It’s almost as if every other year one of us out-bests the other.

  If not for Valen Logan, they would be a losing team. Him and his two brothers working seamlessly together seems to work for their benefit.

  Because of the loss, Coach has us doing lateral sprints, wanting us to warm up before he destroys us in preparation of the Vegas trip. We can't be defeated again.

  While we're going against Tremington Prep and not Valridge, they're our other rivals. I told myself I wouldn't be nervous about going, but it's the first trip I'm taking as President of the Emeralds.

  It's exhausting, learning history after you've been dubbed to manage the current founding bloodlines.

  We're a bunch of fucking kids. We don't know our shit. What we do know is taught by our parents and learned along the way, but my parents didn't teach me enough. Moms doesn't even know about this bloodline shit. If she does, she's been entirely quiet about it all, and Mom always talks with me about the Vestige when Moms isn't around. It seems like Moms isn't privy to the skeletons of the school and town's closet.

  It doesn't help that I'm breaking at least three of the cardinal rules, the most important being men. How am I supposed to produce an heir when I can't even get my dick up to be inside a girl?

  I have until graduation to find someone, to fuck them, to marry.

  The most important rule: produce heirs to continue the family name.

  How did Mom do it and have Colt and me? How did she move past all of this shit? Colt and I don't even know who our father is. We've been told it's a taboo subject by her, but, when I got called to be the president of the Vestige, Mom told me that Colt and I were conceived in a bad way. She didn't tell me which way that was, but I think she was raped.

  Moms said it was an affair, a fling, but the way Mom goes pale white, it seems to mean something different to me. I could be reading into things, but the vibes Mom gives off says it was more than an affair.

  I want to ask her, how she got away with being a lesbian, but women in the bloodlines know little to nothing. Mom isn't much different, and Moms isn’t even a part of the founding families. She would be less likely to be able to help me.

  That's why Vegas scares me. It's the first event I'm going to that's a front for something bigger. It’s a meeting, a plan to save us all.

  I'm a traitor to the cause, to my bloodline. I disgrace the Vestige every day. Not only being with a man but by fighting against them.

  We don't even know who they all are. Being in the dark has its faults and makes us unable to trust anyone. There are factions, the bloodlines of those who have been erased, so while we know who some of the founding families are, we're in search of the rest.

  Supposedly, there's a ledger, something that details dates, names, and every event in our town's history. Whether that be murder, suicide, erasure of the bloodlines or even
parents and their bastard children, it tells all.

  We need that book. The list and names alone could fix everything.

  The problem is, I don't think we'll be able to accomplish what we've set out to do. With all the bloodlines but one on my side, we can change the future, fix everything. If we time this right, get the correct information and all we need to fight before the initiation of next year's new members, we might succeed.

  The problem is initiation is merely months away.

  I'm so fucking scared.

  We're running out of time.

  "Hudson! Get your ass into gear. Burpees, go!" Coach yells.

  I launch into the first position, noticing the rest of the team is already doing them. My mind is a mess. I can't keep doing this.

  Lennox DeLeon watches me out of the corner of his vision, but I can tell he's scared too.

  When my eyes land on Jordan's, shivers rack my frame.

  Can he tell something's coming?

  Spring break is only five weeks away, and he's not on my side. That means by the biggest Crystallites party of the season, I'll need to convince him to betray everything he was raised to fight for.

  We're all fighting against the council, but Jordan is a fucking crater in the middle of the street—unavoidable, deadly, and worth risking everything for.

  I can't live my life pretending to be someone I'm not, and they can't fucking force me to.

  The hotel Arcadia offers us is way too vast for a bunch of teens, but our parents only allow the best quality of everything, not just for the rugby team but the Emeralds, too.

  Placement for the suites at The Palms Hotel have us divided into groups of five. I'm with Lennox and Bridger. Since we're Emeralds and I have every say in the divvying up room from being team captain, I pick them for me.

  Jordan should be in our room. He's an Emerald, too, but until he's given me a definitive yes, I can't trust him with the information I have. His dad is the president of the Vestige Council. With one decision, he could single-handedly kill me and them, all of us if he knew what we were intending to do.

  Tennison and Ross will meet us later for what's planned, but I'm not worried about them. I'm terrified for what I've found, knowing we're only weeks out from the next initiation.

  My sister is on that roster.

  Things have changed since the council decided to bring a girl on board two years ago. Yang, being the only girl in the fold, ever, broke barriers. They're considering breaking the men-only rule of the Vestige permanently.

  Colt can't be dragged into that. I won't let it happen.

  "What first?" Lennox asks, his face worried. He should be. We're treading on narrowly unfrozen ground. It'll break if we're not careful.

  Out of the three of us, he has the most to lose.

  His father, Anson, a slimy sonofabitch, beats Lux and his two brothers. When Lux came to school with bruises, I knew, but he would brush it off, adamant that his brothers and his roughhoused, but his brothers are too young.

  "We meet with the others and gather what information we can on the families." With my words, everyone stares at me with fear.

  "Colt is flying in," Lux mentions.

  I nearly balk at his stupidity. "Excuse me?" I hiss. "What the fuck?"

  Lux straightens his shoulders, his face a bit sour, but also awkward as he stares at Bridger.

  "Dare and Ten will be here in fifteen," Bridger explains, interrupting us. His tone is dull, unwavering, like he couldn't give a fuck or ten for what's happening.

  "When will she be here?" I question, knowing Bridger tried distracting me, all while Lux decided to bring my little sister to fucking Vegas when we're supposed to be fighting against having her around this shit.

  "She's already here in a room I booked."

  A growl of frustration heaves from me. I want nothing more than to stab Lux in his stupid eyes and make him forever blind to my sister. Wanting what's best for her has been a lifelong commitment, which means keeping her from dangerous people.

  Lux may be a good guy right now, but being in the Vestige, anywhere near Arcadia, and a man like his father, he's bound to be sullied.

  They all are.

  It's why being a part of this is dangerous.

  Unluckily for me, I have no choice.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Present

  Colt

  "Pack your shit, Freak. You've got fifteen."

  I stare at my room, the one I've barely become accustomed to. Sad that it's somehow being taken too.

  "You’re extra sweet tonight," I mumble, wanting to smack him across his handsome face. How can I hate someone and want them all in the same breath? Especially after what he has done with Mel.

  He stands behind me, his shadow a feeling behind me rather than a visual. Somehow, I've always been able to feel him. Apparently, he has the same connection, since he found me high and out of my mind the other day.

  Heat creeps across my skin as his hands land flush on my waist. He’s behind me, while I’m turned toward my dressers. With him this close, my mind goes back to the time when he mattered more to me than breathing.

  "Why do you only kiss me when they're not around?" I whisper against his throat. We're under the tree nearest the big boulder on the lake, lying down. He's holding me, tucked into his side.

  The only sounds around us are the birds, nature, and our soft breaths.

  Even now, he doesn't make a sound, not answering me. Perhaps it's because he feels he's betraying their friendship or himself by telling me. He simply kisses my forehead instead. The heat settles into my stomach, lighting the fire inside me.

  He twists, cradling me with his arms but now we're face-to-face. His hand rises, brushing a single blonde strand. Holding it to the light, he watches it as if it's the most fascinating thing he's ever witnessed. After a moment, he tucks it behind my ear and kisses me until I'm breathless, making me forget all about my question.

  "Why do you only kiss me when they're not around?" I ask again, nearly a year later, the same fuzzy feeling in my belly, rising to my chest. His hands tighten on my stomach. It sends flickers of flames across my skin like ants, biting their way to their food.

  "You shouldn't ask questions you'll never receive the answer to. Didn't you learn that in the last eight months, Colton?"

  Rapidly, I turn in his arms, my hands bracing on his shoulders so I don't fall. He huffs out a breath.

  "I was never asking because I thought you'd answer me. Your actions were answer enough."

  His dark eyes—the ones that bear the most truth and tell the most lies—devour me. He stares at my tear-stained face, as if mapping the entire galaxy with every inch of available skin. My body flushes with his inspection, especially when his gaze connects with my throat.

  "Seems you're okay with people watching," he ruminates aloud, gaze darkening even more so.

  I shiver at the stormy resentment in his voice.

  My Bridger, with all his masked glory, numb and incongruent with others, shows me his true self, the one he buries beneath mendacity hollowed in a sacred place only we know the passcode to. It only comes to light every so often.

  Like now.

  Emotion flickers in his eyes, the kind neither of us understands, him more than me. He's forced to silently feel, whether he understands the notion of sensibility or not.

  "How would you know, B? Do you watch, too?"

  His glare lands on my lips, his face agitated with chagrined fallacies, ones he must repeat as a mantra over and over, just so it's replicated in his head.

  "Never," he seethes, baring his pretty teeth.

  I smirk, small and happily. His hands haven't left me, haven’t flinched or softened. They've only dug deeper, touched more, and brushed lower.

  "Kiss me, Bridger. Let me taste the lies on your tongue."

  A low reviling noise leaves him swiftly, and his mouth conquers mine in the next beat. His palms hold me hostage, while my arms cage him in. Our tongues fight, slashing, c
ursing, hating each other with each jab, but it's so damn beautiful, learning the taste of him, memorizing each flavor as a new palette to exhaust until I can no longer partake.

  He's sweet. He's bitter. He's a Bridger sour patch, stealing my breath and giving me life in every second spent under his thrall. It's lurid in its addiction, and all I want is more—more dark, more depravity, more Bridger.

  Don't catch me. Watch me fall.

  The dark abyss of desolation sings to me, bewitching me as I fall.

  Take me away, darkness.

  When we break apart, his eyes are dilated and animalistic, and degradation paints his boyish features. Boy, do the lies taste cloying, disguised by his emotionless features.

  "I kiss you when they're not around because the moments are mine," he rasps, his voice all sex.

  In this moment, I'm intrinsically his, and that's what he's always wanted.

  "I may share your body, your heart, and everything else, but these moments are mine. No one can take them."

  My breath stutters out of me.

  He turns and shuffles away. "Pack your shit, Freak. Don't make me tell you again."

  And with the moment, my fondness dissolves into the air stale from his bitter kiss of death.

  After fifteen minutes pass and he doesn't come for me, I sit on my bed with hesitation. Why the fuck am I packing? They have no control over me.

  Yes, Elijah Edgington threatened my life in so little words.

  Yes, the guys are involved somehow.

  Yes, I'm fucked in all the bad ways.

  But that can't stop me from fighting, right?

  Even if they weren't involved entirely with Cassidy's death, Yang's too, they're doing some sketchy shit with Jordan's dad. Knowing that much scares me. What if they killed Cass for that fucker? He's scary and intense. How easily he threatened me bodily harm worries me that they're not opposed to holding me against my will.

  "I'd ask why you're sitting on your ass, but I know you'd only respond with lip," Bridger grumbles, walking back into my room.

  Trepidation lines every crease of my face; I'm sure of it. I can feel the fear emanating from me, making the air acrid with its headiness.