Wretched: A Reverse Harem Bully Romance (Wicked Brotherhood Book 3)

by Eden Beck

  Wretched

  The Wicked Brotherhood Book Three

  Eden Beck

  Wretched by Eden Beck

  © 2021 Eden Beck

  All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of including brief passages for use in a review.

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

  For permissions contact:

  authoredenbeck@gmail.com

  Ebook ASIN: B08QGXVRBM

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  A Note From The Author

  Also by Eden Beck

  Chapter One

  Having an existential crisis in the bathroom of the Zurich airport has become something of a staple part of the last year, and today, when I find myself back here again, it’s no different.

  Only today, I’m not shearing off my hair with a pair of dull scissors.

  I spend a long time just staring at myself in the dingy mirror, trying to catch a glance of something familiar within. There’s a thrill of fear in my stomach when the door opens and a woman walks in, but as she ducks into a stall, I remember with a start that it’s okay that I’m in the women’s bathroom—I am actually a girl, after all.

  And this time, when I return to Bleakwood, I don’t have to hide it.

  I reach up and touch a lone strand of hair that’s fallen into my eyes. Last year was my first year at Bleakwood, a prestigious all-boys’ school located in the mountains of a small village in Switzerland. I had to disguise myself as a boy, but it wasn’t easy. Far from it. I had to work my ass off to hide my true identity.

  Only for it to all fall apart.

  There’s a rival girls’ school near Bleakwood, which I didn’t know about until I was already firmly in the middle of my charade. The headmistress there knew I was faking all along and has been kind enough to use that information to blackmail me into helping her before exposing me to the dean, anyway.

  I thought it would be the end of me, but instead I’ve found myself wrapped up in a whole new set of troubles.

  Bleakwood has found itself the subject of an investigation—with me somehow at the heart of it. I thought being found out as a secret girl would get me expelled, but instead it’s guaranteed my continued presence.

  At least, so long as I remain useful.

  And so long as I don’t go and flunk myself out.

  So now, even though it feels strange, I get to board the train to the Swiss village near Bleakwood as myself. As Alex Trevellian, the girl. Gone is my choppy boyish haircut, my baggy jeans, and the sports bra binding down my breasts. Breasts that would have betrayed me fully after this last summer if Headmistress Robin hadn’t already.

  Now my hair has grown out to hang just past my chin, I’m wearing actual girls’ jeans that my mom bought me from the girls’ section, and a real, supportive bra that doesn’t clamp my breasts down and strangle them. I’ve got on a regular T-shirt instead of the ill-fitting hand-me-downs I wore last year.

  And I feel entirely, utterly, unlike myself.

  The one thing I couldn’t abandon, though, is my wide collection of baggy sweatshirts, all folded and stuffed into my suitcase. I know that disappearing into one of them doesn’t actually make me disappear, but that doesn’t matter. There aren’t many comforts at Bleakwood, so I’ll take what I can when I can.

  What I can’t do, however, is stand here in front of the airport mirror forever.

  I hear the woman that entered a moment ago flush the toilet, and I busy myself by washing my hands. If I don’t hurry I’ll miss my train—or worse, be forced to make awkward conversation with her.

  There’s already enough of those awaiting me when I get where I’m going.

  I can’t resist tugging my sweatshirt over my head as I walk up to Bleakwood. I feel much more comfortable as a lump of fabric than as a girl in an all-boys’ school. Being here as myself, I immediately discover, is worse than it ever was being here as somebody else.

  Maybe because now it matters. Maybe because there’s nowhere to hide inside my own skin.

  People already know who I am, though; and despite me trying to transform myself into a walking pile of rags, they recognize me. Heads turn to track my progress through the courtyard as I pass. I shift my backpack, hunch my shoulders, and walk faster, pulling my rolling suitcase behind me.

  It was bad enough when people watched just because I was The Brotherhood’s bitch. Now they’re just watching … me.

  I hurry through the open double doors that serve as the main entrance to the school and into the entrance hall, not even bothering to pause as my suitcase bangs its way up the stone steps. I expect to find it swarming with students so I can lose myself in the crowd, but it’s surprisingly empty. There are no signs up indicating where new student orientation is, and I recognize most of the few faces that mill around.

  Even more so, there’s a strange tension in the air as I head to the dorms. More than there usually is, anyway.

  I set my face towards the back stairs, eager to get away from prying eyes and up to the dorm room I shared with Rafael last year—only to hear my plans dying at the sound of my own name.

  Or, at the very least, something close to it.

  “Alexis!” calls a man’s voice. I freeze, wincing, and turn around, searching for the source. The dean walks towards me, adjusting the lapel of his tweed blazer and ignoring the looks of the other students in the entrance hall.

  “Just Alex,” I say, reminding him for what must be the dozenth time. My voice seems to echo in the new silence that follows the dean’s shout.

  “Right, right. Just Alex.” He comes to stand in front of me. “Where are you headed?”

  “The dorms,” I reply, though it sounds more like a question than a statement. Standing so close here to the dean, it’s like I’m being examined, and I don’t like the expression on his face at my response.

  “Did you not get the letter we sent you this summer?”

  I feel my face redden as I glance around. Everyone’s watching us, their eyes on me without any hint of shame. I’d welcome the sight of anyone familiar—or at the very least, more familiar than a bunch of vaguely recognizable faces. Rafael or Neville would be great, but I’d even welcome Jasper, Beck, or Heath.

 
; Well. Maybe not Jasper.

  “I got … a letter,” I say. My voice sounds small and weak to my own ears.

  “Did you check the part about dorm assignments?”

  My stomach drops. I didn’t. In my mind’s eye, I picture the drawer into which I stuffed the crumpled letter soon after I opened it. I’d been so caught up with the apparent radio silence from everyone else here at Bleakwood that once I realized it wasn’t from someone I actually cared to hear from … I never bothered to read the whole thing.

  Idiot.

  It must be plain from the look on my own face that no, I did not.

  The dean sighs. “You’ve been reassigned. I’ll show you to your new room.”

  “Okay.” I adjust my grip on my suitcase and try my best to melt down into my hoodie as I follow him. It’s everything I can do to keep my stomach from dropping even further.

  Of course, I won’t be rooming with Rafael. I don’t know how I didn’t expect that.

  That, above everything else, is the greatest disappointment yet.

  We walk a totally different direction from the dorms. I glance over my shoulder at the regular dorm wing behind me. I hadn’t realized how lucky I’d gotten last year that no one thought to re-house me once I’d been found out.

  I guess the fact that I’d been rooming with a boy for the last nine months had gotten swept up in the rest of the scandal. Now that all eyes are on me, watching my every move, something like that couldn’t carry on without being noticed.

  I follow the dean in stiff, awkward silence for what feels like forever; up one set of stairs, around a corner, up another staircase and into a corner of the school that up until this moment, I never even knew existed. We’re near the old bell tower—which also so happens to be so out of way that I’ve never seen anyone venture this way before.

  Just when I’ve started to wonder if I’m being led up here to be quietly murdered out of sight of the other students, we do finally come to a stop in a corridor beginning with a curved archway. A tarnished plaque on the wall is almost illegible, but I can make out the word dormitory on the second line.

  This dormitory hallway is different from what I’m used to; it’s a little wider, a little grander—in an age-gone-by sort of way. The tiles are nicer, but chipped. The doors that line it aren’t all uniform, either; they’re painted with different colors and designs, with tiny gold plaques next to them with titles in German. As we pass one, I can see it roughly translates to The Rose Room.

  At least my year here in Switzerland won’t entirely be a waste, even if I find myself kicked out within the first week. At least I can say I learned enough of the local Romansh to read the name of the local rooms at the bed-and-breakfast should I ever need to.

  The dean leads me to a white-painted door with a gold handle and pulls a key out of his pocket.

  “Here we are,” he says jovially, pushing the door open, and my jaw drops.

  It’s huge. Before, my dorm was just two single beds, two desks, and two dressers jammed into a small room with a strip of no-man’s-land running down the center, just enough room for two boys to sleep and do their homework without banging elbows. This, however, is something else entirely.

  We stand on the threshold of a huge rectangular room. A four-poster bed sits with its headboard against one wall, flanked by wooden nightstands with delicately curved feet. A very stately dresser made of the same style of wood stands nearby. A little privacy screen sits at an angle to the bed which I could, presumably, pull to hide the bed from the rest of the room.

  Thought from whom I’d be hiding from … if the distance of this dormitory from the others is any indications, I don’t imagine I’ll be having guests up here anytime soon.

  Certainly not any guests passing by for a casual chat.

  Under different circumstances, I’d be mostly worried about the kinds of ghosts I’m going to inevitably run into here, tucked away in the practical castle that Bleakwood is. But after all the eyes on me down below, maybe a little solitude is just what I need.

  And this place, this room … well … let’s just say I could imagine worse rooms to find myself isolated in as I look around the rest of it.

  And what a room the rest of it is. It’s got a little sofa with comfy-looking cushions, a coffee table, and some upholstered armchairs, all arranged so that people can sit in them and talk to each other. Between that area and the bed is a simple desk with a shelf above it; there’s a door on the other side of the room.

  “This is …” I’m not sure what to say, so I just trail off for a moment before clearing my throat and trying again. “Uh, is that door to another bedroom? Is my roommate through there?”

  “No,” the dean says, his face darkening just a little. “You get this suite to yourself.”

  Suite? I think, startled. Is he really planning on trapping me up here?

  “That door leads to the bathroom,” he continues. He places the key on a little table with thin legs that stands next to the door.

  “So, these rooms were always here?” I ask uncertainly.

  “They used to be the teachers’ quarters.” The dean shrugs. “But the teachers don’t stay on campus anymore. They either commute by train or live nearby in the village. We just haven’t gotten around to renovating this wing into something more useful. Good thing, I guess,” he adds under his breath. “Now that it turns out we’ll be needing it.”

  “Oh.” I tug my suitcase behind me and stand in the middle of the room, eyeing the rug beneath the sofa. “So … I don’t have a roommate, then?”

  I’ve only been up here for a few minutes, and already, the silence is more than a little unsettling. I’m not used to silence.

  “No roommate.” He fidgets uncomfortably. “The parents weren’t happy about the possibility of a girl rooming with one of their boys, you see.”

  “Right.”

  “I’ll let you get settled, then,” the dean says, but I can tell he just wants to leave. He steps out the door and reaches to pull it shut firmly behind him. “Oh, but before I go …”

  He stops a second and clears his throat. “It should go without saying that you’re not to have any visitors up here,” he says, before fixing me with a stare. “We simply couldn’t have you remain here if we thought anything … untoward … was going on.”

  Untoward. As if me having guests in my room would be worse than the bullying he’s allowed under his roof this whole time.

  But I’m not about to argue.

  Not when I know my very existence here lays in the balance.

  If I’m not allowed to have visitors to my room, then so be it. It’s not like I’ve been counting on that, anyway.

  Chapter Two

  I thought I would be anxious to see Rafael again, or even Neville or Fox, but I can’t bring myself to hike down the many flights of stairs now that I’m up here. Not when there is so much to explore up here, out of the sight and whispers of the rest of my classmates.

  Classmates who still seem wholly unable to decide what to do with me.

  The girl at Bleakwood Academy for Boys.

  I unpack all my clothes, arrange my books and notebooks neatly on my desk, lounge on my sofa while scrolling through my phone. My bathroom has an actual bathtub in it, and I take a soak before bed.

  In the morning, I pull the cord to open the heavy drapes that cover my floor-to-ceiling window, grinning as pale sunshine slices across the floor before flooding the entire room. I get dressed out in the open with plenty of room to wave my arms around.

  It’s strange to have so much space to myself.

  I feel nerves stabbing into my stomach as I ready to leave, knowing that now that I won’t be able to just easily pop up here between classes if I forget something, let alone crawl up that many flights of stairs if I have one too many drinks. Despite that, those nerves seem to subside a bit as I let my baggy hoodie swallow my entire torso. I grab my backpack, tuck my schedule into the back pocket of my pants, and slip out of my room.


  The hallway is deserted. Though I expected it, it still feels strangely … lonely. I guess nobody comes here; they have no reason to. I adjust my backpack as I retrace my steps from yesterday toward the classrooms.

  Where I am, at long last, accosted by someone I actually was looking forward to seeing again.

  “Alex!”

  I snap my head around. “Rafael!” I call happily.

  He comes running over, his hair bobbing around his face, his messenger bag bouncing against his hip.

  “I was wondering where you were,” he says as he runs. He skids to a stop and pulls me into a bear hug.

  I squeeze my eyes shut as I hug him back. Rafael was more than my roommate last year, he was also my closest friend.

  “I stayed in my room all day yesterday,” I explain as we pull apart. “I couldn’t get myself to make the trek down, not when I knew I’d have to hike all the way back up. You should see the place.” I catch myself starting to grow breathless from babbling. “Speaking of rooms, did you get a new roommate?”

  “Yep. Neville.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder as Neville grins and waves from the foot of the dorm staircase. “What about you?”

  “I get a room all to myself in the old teachers’ quarters,” I say in a whisper. “You have to come see it.”

  “Ooh.” Rafael’s grin lights up his entire face. “Sounds like I’m going to be jealous.

  “You have no idea,” I say. “You have cockroaches, I have a couch.”