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

by Eden Beck

  What Jasper says is true, I just hadn’t noticed earlier. For the first time in months, we spent the day alone, all four of us and I didn’t even notice. It was … natural, almost.

  Away from the school, from the confines and expectations of everyone around us, it was different.

  Beck stands at my side, one hand outstretched for me to take. “If you’d like,” he says, his voice just as surprisingly soft and without any of its usual sarcasm, “we could call a separate car for you. It might just be a bit of a wait.”

  I look back up at the quickly darkening sky. We should have already been back at school by now. We’ll be missed already, certainly more so if we wait any longer.

  “No,” I say, “there’s no need for that.”

  I take his hand and allow him to slip the second around my waist as he helps me down from the saddle. It’s the one thing that I’m still unsure of. I can keep my mare straight. I can make her turn, make her jump even—if I’m not paying close enough attention to scare myself out of it.

  I expect Beck’s hand to linger on my waist for a moment, for him to take advantage of the allowance offered him … but he doesn’t.

  For the first time, he doesn’t.

  Maybe the mountain air really has done something to clear their heads.

  The driver has the car waiting and warm by the time we crunch up the gravel, smelling of horses and sweat as we clamber inside. This car is set up something like a small limo, with two sets of chairs facing each other in the back and a small fold-out table with glasses and two fresh-chilled bottles of champagne just waiting to be uncorked to one side.

  But even well after the car has pulled away from the stables, no one reaches for it. Even though I press myself to the edge of the seat, tucking my knees up to the side as I stare outside the deeply tinted windows, I soon realize it’s completely unnecessary. None of the boys, not even Beck seated beside me, moves to even touch me accidentally.

  Their behavior is impeccable, unexpected, and … dare I say it … a little disappointing.

  I shouldn’t be disappointed. I should be thrilled.

  But I expected them to at least … at least …

  What did I expect?

  Not this. Not the silent, respectful drive up to school—the only conversation consisting of a few muttered requests to the driver and a reminder for everyone to meet up for practice as regular on Friday, just to gather ourselves together before Saturday’s event.

  It’s so odd that by the time we get back to the school, I find myself desperately in need of a smoke.

  There was a moment there when I thought I’d finally kicked the habit. But ever since the boys’ betrayal, ever since The Brotherhood came back together, I’ve found myself reaching for the pack more and more often. Tonight, by the time I find my way up to the top of the tower, my hands are practically shaking from the need for it.

  A few drags into the cigarette, and I feel my mind start to clear just a bit.

  Today … what did happen today?

  It’s more than my muscles that are sore from a day of riding. It’s … it’s all of me.

  I dreaded being alone with The Brotherhood again, but today—today didn’t feel like I was with The Brotherhood. It just felt like I was alone with three friends.

  Three of my friends.

  Because despite everything, that’s what they are … aren’t they? Our friendship may be weird and complicated and filled with emotions I can’t bring myself to acknowledge, but what … what if I was able to acknowledge them?

  What if we were able to make things less complicated?

  If only they had agreed to end The Brotherhood for good.

  If even they weren’t so dead-set on continuing the tradition with the rising class—a class that isn’t even here to truly participate in it—then I might be able to get over it. After all, we’ll be long gone from Bleakwood before we even know it. The Brotherhood will live with us forever, but it won’t be the same.

  Not if today was any indicator.

  I’ve been angry with Beck and Heath for forgiving Jasper so quickly, but … but can I really blame them?

  I thought I would never forgive Jasper for what he did—or tried to do—but is that true?

  It isn’t the thought that comes to mind when I think of him anymore. In fact, that fateful night back at the dance last year hasn’t come to mind in so long … I’d almost forgotten it.

  And Jasper … Jasper … he’s not acted that way again. He did show real shame, at least for a while. Real regret.

  If only he’d forget the fraternity that made him feel he had a right to do it in the first place, then maybe I really could forgive him.

  All of them.

  But there it is. It always comes back to that, doesn’t it?

  As The Brotherhood’s bitch, I’m marked for life. So as long as The Brotherhood exists, I cannot exist beside them in peace.

  I will always be less than. And I can’t live with that.

  The night is silent all around me. I take another drag on my cigarette before taking it from my lips to examine it for a moment. Its bitterness has taken a sudden turn for the worse, and I find myself not wanting to finish it.

  Instead, I watch the glowing orange tip as it tumbles from my fingers to where it extinguishes itself on the snow of one of the rooftops far below the tower.

  Somehow, just standing here in the silence reminds me of the last time I was up here, of the sound of the door creaking open before Heath stepped out to find me up here, alone.

  Is it really any wonder he and the others have been acting strange ever since that night? I’ve been so focused on how I think they must disdain me … but all this time, I’ve been showing nothing but disdain and disgust for them.

  I wouldn’t be surprised if my face is stuck in a permanent sneer by the end of this whole ordeal.

  Because there’s going to be an end.

  One way or another, Bleakwood, The Brotherhood … they are going to end. We’re all going to move on with our lives. Whether or not we keep Bleakwood doesn’t really matter, not when it comes to us, anyway.

  Is that really why I’ve been fighting so hard for this competition now that we know the true stakes? Is that why I didn’t get Jasper, Heath, and Beck expelled when I had the chance?

  Because part of me, not too deep down to be able to recognize it, doesn’t want it to end.

  My time with them.

  That’s why I applied to the same college as them, isn’t it? Why I submitted myself to just one university.

  There should have been other options. I really can’t have rationally expected to get into Oxford, not even with Bleakwood on my resume—scandal or not.

  So, I must have done it for another reason, a reason I’ve been trying not to admit for some time.

  Sure, I can’t live with The Brotherhood, but I can’t imagine living without them either.

  Chapter Thirty

  By the end of the week, it isn’t just the next event in the competition that’s on everyone’s lips.

  College acceptance letters have started to arrive.

  Normally they would be issued even earlier in the year, but Bleakwood’s current standing seems to have delayed results … a fact that has been angrily muttered many a time by students who, like myself, only applied to one school to be eligible for early results in the first place.

  Instead, thanks to the investigations currently going on, we’ve had to wait until normal acceptance dates in order to hear our results.

  And even still, from what I hear, there are still some schools holding out a little longer.

  Just past, it seems, the date of the last event against Harrow’s.

  By the time our practice on Friday is once again hanging over me, I’ve resigned myself to being one of those students who’s going to be kept waiting a little longer.

  Since Rafael has informed me that I actually do have to plan ahead for the final ball after next week’s competition, I once again find m
yself standing awkwardly in my old dorm room while he looks me over with a trained—if judgmental—eye.

  Neville has been banished from the premises until the proceedings are complete, but with nowhere else to go, I can still hear his heavy breaths from where he’s slumped outside in the hallway on the other side of the door.

  “And why can’t this just be done in Alex’s room so I don’t have to sit outside in the hallway all afternoon?”

  “Because, dear Neville,” Rafael says, not looking away from where he’s carefully scrutinizing the exact shape and size of my muffin top, “need I remind you that we’ll be expelled if we did that? Wouldn’t do any of us any good if we got expelled before we even get to go to the dance.”

  He leans forward a bit, a dark look coming over his eyes and his voice just for a second. “As if it’s going to do us any good anyways if you and The Brotherhood lose tomorrow’s competition.”

  I glare at him. “I didn’t need a reminder, thank you very much.”

  We all return to silence for a moment while Rafael does a full turn around my body before settling down to measure the length of my forearm. I swear he’s just doing this to mess with me, but I’m too afraid to interrupt him to even level the accusation.

  “Speaking of which …” Neville is about to start from the hallway, when suddenly his voice is replaced by the sound of him hastily scrambling to his feet.

  I’m about to ask him if he’s seen a ghost when I hear the second pair of footsteps echoing in our direction. Both Rafael and I snap to look at each other in alarm.

  We know what that means.

  Neville is the one to beat us to it.

  “Fox! Any mail for me?”

  Both Rafael and I rush to throw open the door behind him, only to have to scramble ourselves to keep from stumbling past him and straight out into the hall.

  Fox doesn’t look the least bit surprised. He takes one glance into the bedroom and just shakes his head.

  “I don’t even want to know,” he says, sticking one hand in to rustle through the mail bag slung across his chest. All three of us wait with bated breath, only for his hand to re-emerge with only one letter.

  “Sorry,” he says, glancing first at Neville, and then at me, before he hands it to Rafael.

  Even though I’ve had my suspicions for a while now, I still feel my stomach sour a bit. I have so much pressure on me already over tomorrow’s event, I’d kind of been hoping for a letter just to give me some peace of mind. Even if it was a rejection letter, then at least it’d be something.

  One sure thing.

  Oh, wouldn’t that be nice?

  Rafael’s eyes betray nothing like my own anxiety as we—me, Neville, and an ever-patient Fox—watch his eyes scan each line of the paper in rapid succession. When he looks up at us, there’s nothing on his face to say he just read anything other than the label on the back of a shampoo bottle.

  “As expected, I got in,” Rafael says, nodding once before balling the paper up in his hands and tossing it into the trash.

  Somehow, I’m the only one who finds themselves blinking at him in surprise.

  “I … I thought you’d be happier?” I say after Fox has offered his equally polite but disinterested congratulations and moved further on down the hall. “I’d kill to find out I’d just gotten into Oxford or not already. And, I mean, I’d be at least a little excited if I did actually get in.”

  As unlikely as that now may seem.

  As soon as the door closes and Rafael resumes his inspection of me, I find myself trying to casually catch his eye until I finally blurt out, “So, have you heard anything about who Jasper is taking to the dance?”

  I immediately feel heat rise to my cheeks as I just as quickly avert my eyes, even as I add, “Or Heath and Beck? Are they taking anyone?”

  “And that would matter … why?” Rafael asks, his eyes fixed on me with one of those stares that tells me he already damn well knows why.

  He makes me wait, still standing in front of him as he makes his final measurements, before he takes a step back and gives me one last once-over. It still isn’t until he turns to start packing away his measuring tape that I finally crack.

  “So?” I ask, my voice betraying me more than I’d like.

  Rafael half turns back to eye me out of the corner of his eye.

  “Can I come in yet?” Neville’s voice whines from the other side of the door. “I’m still waiting out here in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Just another minute, Neville,” Rafael says, his own annoyance sneaking into his voice. He narrows his eyes up at me again, before he says, “I’ve heard some rumors, sure.”

  My heartbeat quickens.

  “And?”

  It’s all I can do to keep my voice low enough to keep Neville from listening in. “What are they?”

  “Just that Beck has been turned down more often than he probably ever though he would be and Heath hasn’t shown any interest in anyone.”

  I feel a slight rush of relief, but not enough to keep me from blurting out the question currently most pressing.

  “And Jasper?”

  Rafael hesitates ever so slightly. It’s enough.

  It suddenly feels as if it’s more difficult to breathe.

  “He has a date, doesn’t he?”

  “I’m so sorry, Alex,” Rafael whispers, his head ducking ever so slightly as he reaches out a hand to rest on my shoulder—which I quickly sidestep. “But they are just rumors …”

  “Who is it,” I ask, my face set.

  “There’s no guarantee it’s true …”

  “Tell me, Rafael,” I cut him off, my teeth clenched together. “Who is it?”

  The way Rafael’s lips press together, I already know what it is he’s going to tell me. But apparently, I need to hear it.

  “Tell. Me.”

  He just gives me a look before sighing, throwing up his arms a bit, and then letting them fall back down to his sides before he admits what I feared the most.

  “Olive, who do you think.”

  I expected to feel like the whole world was falling down on me when the inevitable happened. Instead, I find my mind surprisingly clear.

  These might be just rumors.

  But I know how to find out for sure.

  I do not go to Jasper.

  I know he’ll only lie to me, just like he’s lied to everyone else.

  So, instead, I go to Heath.

  Luckily for me, I already know the way. Or unluckily … because I don’t need the memory of just why I know the way haunting me the way it does in the moments leading up to when my fist actually makes contact with his door.

  Three short raps, and a moment’s hesitation before his groggy voice issues from the other side.

  “Just a sec, Beck,” he grumbles.

  I freeze, glancing either side down the hallway. I don’t see any sign of Beck, but if Heath is expecting him, then it’s only a matter of time before he shows up.

  I’ve got to keep this quick.

  So, I get right to the point.

  Or, I plan to … right up until Heath throws open the door in nothing other than boxers and sleep-rimmed eyes, and I find myself utterly tongue tied.

  While I gape at him, eyes wide and tongue practically wagging, Heath utters a low swear and reaches for the closest thing to him in order to offer his nether regions a little more privacy. That thing happens to be a science book.

  At least seeing a baboon’s ass in place of Heath’s barely concealed manhood is just what I need to snap me back to the task at hand.

  “Shit, Alex, I didn’t think …”

  I cut him off.

  “Is Jasper taking Olive to the dance?”

  “Is Jasper … what?” To his credit, he sounds as surprised as I should be. He stares back at me for a moment, his eyes blinking and a confused look on his face before he shakes his head back and forth several times as if to clear it. “Where d’you hear that?”

  I find myself bounc
ing anxiously on the balls of my feet.

  “Rafael,” I say, “but if he’s saying it, it’s only because someone else said it first.”

  I glance nervously to either side again, just waiting for Beck or someone else to arrive.

  “Can I come in?”

  The last time I was here, I didn’t require an invitation. Also unlike last time, Heath hesitates a moment, an unsure sound rumbling from the back of his throat for a moment while he drags his gaze away from mine to the mess of a room behind him.

  Clothes and books are strewn across the floor, food wrappers thrown in wastepaper baskets, and what looks like a nearly empty bottle of lotion still balances precariously close to the edge of the bed where it’s surely been coming in handy for less-than-innocent purposes these last months.

  I’m not given the opportunity to inspect this closer, however, because Heath’s hesitation is all it takes for the silence to be broken as a voice echoes to us from further down the hall.

  “Alex?”

  I freeze, my eyes fixing on Heath’s frantic look for a second as Beck’s footsteps audibly quicken as he approaches.

  “Alex … I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  I know how this hallway is laid out. There’s no escaping him, so I might as well face him.

  At least it seems I don’t have to come up with a greeting. As soon as Heath hears his friend’s voice, he comes stumbling out into the doorway and points one finger accusatorially into Beck’s chest.

  “Is Jasper taking Olive to the dance?”

  I’m a bit taken aback by his tone—a tone that matches mine from just a minute before. Even when I look away from Beck to Heath, and then back to Beck, Heath’s face never shows anything that betrays this as some kind of twisted act.

  Now it’s Beck’s turn to look surprised. It doesn’t last long, however.

  By the time his eyes slide over to mine, the expression on his face is unreadable.

  “Yes.”

  I feel bile rise in the back of my throat.

  “Thank you,” I say, deadpan even as my stomach threatens to heave the entire contents of my lunch up onto the both of them. “That’s all I needed to know.”