Kings of Linwood Academy - The Complete Box Set: A Dark High School Romance Series

by Callie Rose

  “God, sweetheart.” Mom puts a hand over her chest. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did you get checked out?”

  “Yep. I went to the ER, and everything’s fine.” I scoot forward on my chair, resting my elbows on the small counter that runs along the base of the window separating us. “How are you doing, Mom?”

  “Oh, I’m fine.” She blinks distractedly, still staring at the bruise on my face. Then she shakes her head, seeming to clear it. “I’m sorry I was so down yesterday, Low. That’s not what you or I need right now. It’s not… going how I’d hoped it would, but we have to have faith in the system, right? I didn’t do it. So we have to trust that the truth will come out in the end.”

  My heart aches as I take in her expression. After everything that’s happened, even after all the moments of fear and hopelessness, Mom still has the ability to snatch optimism out of the black sludge of life.

  How the fuck could a jury ever think this woman is capable of murder?

  That thought sticks in my mind, bringing back my conversation with Judge Hollowell yesterday. Should I tell her what he said? Should I follow the advice he gave?

  I honestly don’t know what game he was playing. I’m guessing he let me into his house and agreed to talk to me because he wanted to try to feel out what I know, to make sure Mom’s shit-for-brains lawyer doesn’t have some amazing trump card up his sleeve.

  God, I fucking wish.

  But what does that mean for what Hollowell told me? If he was trying to maintain his cover as the helpful, concerned samaritan, it wouldn’t make sense for him to give me advice that was obviously bad.

  I just don’t know if the advice he gave me was good. And I’m terrified that he could’ve laid some trap that I’ll fall into unwittingly if I do what he suggested.

  But what he said made logical sense. My mom doesn’t look or act like a killer. She’s a gentle, sweet soul, and if Scott Parsons can’t do more to prove her innocence, he can at least highlight what a good person she is.

  I scoot forward on my seat, lowering my voice a little—not that there’s anyone here to overhear besides the bored looking guard.

  “Mom, I was thinking about your case. I know your public defender kinda sucks, but that just means you need to basically be your own lawyer.”

  “Yeah.” Mom sighs, brushing a few flyaways out of her face. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. At least maybe I wouldn’t feel so helpless that way.”

  “Tell Scott to shift the focus to your character,” I blurt before I can go around and around second guessing my choice any further. “Tell him to get people on the stand who will make you look good to the jury.”

  Mom purses her lips, considering that.

  “Okay. Yeah, I’ll mention that to him.” The upbeat attitude she adopted since yesterday fades a little, and she swallows. Her voice is a little shaky when she speaks. “God, I’m really fucking nervous, Low. I’ll be in front of a jury in just a few months. I can’t believe it.”

  My mom doesn’t swear much. She doesn’t mind when I do, but she tends to find gentler ways to express herself. So the fact that she’s cursing now tells me exactly how scared she is.

  I rest my hand against the glass that separates us, wishing I could make it vanish into thin air, reach across the space, and hug her. “I know, Mom. Me too. But it’ll be okay. Like you said, have faith, right?”

  She smiles, a wan, tired stretch of her lips. “Right.”

  A few months. That’s how long until my mom sits in a courtroom before a judge and jury, total strangers who will decide her fate.

  But I won’t let them.

  As terrified as I am of what I learned yesterday, it’s slowly been dawning on me that I’m one step closer to getting my mom out of prison.

  The kings and I spent weeks searching for the man in the black mask, and now we know who it is. I don’t know how to prove that my mom didn’t kill Iris, but if I can prove someone else did, I won’t have to.

  I might have a target on my back now, but so does Judge fucking Hollowell.

  And I don’t care what it takes. I’ll find some way to show the world what he did.

  Mom and I talk for a while longer, and she makes me promise to go back to the doctor if my bruise doesn’t show steady signs of improvement. I know seeing me hurt or sick always brings up worries about my cancer returning, as if she has some kind of caregiver PTSD—hell, she probably does—so I don’t roll my eyes at her overprotectiveness.

  Tears glisten in her eyes when I stand up to leave, and I see her blinking them back as we press our palms together.

  I want to tell her to be strong, to promise I’ll fix this, to reassure her that I have a plan.

  But I can’t say any of that. So I tell her the only thing I can think of that matters right now.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  6

  School starts back up on Monday, and walking through the doors of Linwood Academy feels like walking into a Twilight Zone episode. How the fuck does everybody look so normal? How are kids talking about where they went for the holiday and the expensive gifts they got from their parents as if everything is perfectly fine?

  Linc and River brought my stuff over to Dax and Chase’s house, and the five of us spent most of the weekend with our heads together, trying to figure out some way to prove Judge Hollowell was Iris’s real killer.

  It won’t be fucking easy.

  For one thing, we have to do it without letting him get wind of the fact that we’re onto him. And for another, we have no solid evidence yet.

  I always maintained a vague hope that Linc had backup copies of the photos he deleted from his phone of the man in black, but nope. Deleting them was a split-second decision, and he didn’t have time to back anything up. He hadn’t done it before then because he didn’t want anyone finding out we even had the pictures, and more copies would only make that more likely.

  Not that it matters much anyway. The pictures were clearly of a man, but without any glimpse of his face, no one would ever be able to tell that man was Alexander Hollowell.

  So that means our first and best lead for tracking down any evidence to use against the judge lies with my favorite person in this whole damn school.

  Savannah.

  “God, I was really hoping to see less of her this semester, not more,” I mutter to Linc as the kings and I head down the corridor toward my locker.

  The four of them are flanking me protectively, as if they expect Judge Hollowell to have spies inside the school who might come after me at any moment.

  He huffs a low laugh. “After what Trent told us about her, I’m sure she feels the same way. You’ve got way more shit on her than she has on you.”

  “Yeah. Amazingly, that doesn’t make her less of a bitch though.”

  He rolls his eyes in agreement as we round the corner and the queen bitch herself comes into view.

  Savannah looks like a model, with long red hair that’s always carefully styled to seem like it isn’t styled. She’s got pouty lips, big blue-green eyes, and a perky rack, and she uses all three of those things like weapons—like tools to get what she wants.

  Which, apparently, is still Trent.

  I wondered if she’d break up with him after he blabbed all her secrets to the guys when they hauled him out behind a nightclub downtown and beat the crap out of him. It still turns my stomach to think of it, but I have a hard time mustering much pity for Trent, knowing he’s the one who assaulted me after a poker game at the warehouse.

  “Guess she forgave him,” I mutter under my breath as the guys and I walk past Savannah, who’s rubbing up against Trent like a horny cat as he leans against the bank of lockers.

  “Or, more likely, decided she’s not done using him,” Dax corrects with a snort.

  He’s probably right. Trent started dating Savannah just a few weeks after Iris died, and from the very beginning, it seemed more like a mutually beneficial power move than a relationship based on actual feelings.
<
br />   Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure they’re fucking, but it’s not like they actually care about each other or anything.

  They both look up as we pass, and Savannah practically hisses at me. I swear I can see literal hackles rising on her back. I’ve still got a good amount of blackmail material on her, but I don’t know if it’ll be enough to stop her from coming after me—or if she’ll just get more devious about it.

  Trent’s reaction is almost the complete opposite of Savannah’s. Instead of looking pissed, he looks scared. He straightens a little, pushing the redheaded cheerleader away from him and licking his lips nervously as the four guys surrounding me stare him down. I can see his fingers twitch nervously, like he’s not sure if he should form fists or not.

  Principal Osterhaut has made it clear that he has a zero-tolerance policy for fights on school ground though, so I wrap my hand around Linc’s bicep in warning, shaking my head slightly when he glances at me.

  “Don’t worry, Low.” His lips quirk up in a dangerous smile. “We’ll just keep him busy while you chat with Savannah.”

  God, I hope they can keep their shit together.

  I don’t think any of them intended to go after Trent so hard at the club, but when they realized what he’d done to me, they just sort of snapped.

  Giving his arm one more squeeze, I affix him with my most serious glare, and he surprises me by leaning over to kiss me.

  River’s shoulder is brushing my other side, and Chase and Dax are standing close behind us. Everyone at Linwood knows we’re all close—they see us together all the time—but this is the first time I can remember that Linc has kissed me at school. Especially like this, with his boys standing so close, all hovering around me protectively as if they’ve laid claim to me too.

  They have.

  But I’m not sure everyone here knows it.

  Or knew it.

  Savannah’s eyes fly open wide, then narrow quickly as her gaze travels down to where River’s fingers are loosely tangled with mine. She looks like she just swallowed something unpleasant, and when we walk closer to her and Trent, she stiffens just like her boyfriend did.

  Linc steps forward, jerking his chin at her. “Savannah. Harlow needs a word with you.”

  “What?” She scowls, the fear I saw for a moment vanishing under a fresh wave of disdain. “Why the hell would I want to talk to that skank?”

  Chase and Dax both make angry noises in their throats, and I feel River tense beside me. They’ve warned Savannah before about laying off me—multiple times—but she doesn’t seem to remember the message.

  “Because if you don’t talk to her,” Linc says smoothly, keeping his voice low and almost pleasant. “She’ll have to go find other people to talk to. About other things.”

  Savannah’s mouth snaps shut like a steel trap. Her nostrils flare, and I know she gets the veiled reference to the damaging information we have on her.

  It’s actually nothing all that bad. She hasn’t fucking killed anyone or anything. Most of it isn’t even stuff she’d get in trouble for.

  But it is embarrassing. It would tarnish the reputation she’s spent years building up in this place, and I think that matters more to her than the threat of punishment ever would.

  Her jaw clenches as she glances from Lincoln to the rest of the kings to me. Trent has stepped back two paces, and it looks like he’s considering running while the guys are distracted.

  God, why am I not surprised?

  He’s perfectly willing to ditch Savannah and let her face the music alone, just like his so-called friends let him get dragged outside the club by the four boys flanking me.

  This is what happens when you hang out with people who don’t actually give a shit about you, who are just using you for their own benefit. When the chips are down, when it really fucking matters—they vanish.

  None of the kings would leave each other behind for anything, no matter what kind of threat they faced. And I’m pretty sure by now that they wouldn’t leave me behind either.

  I know I wouldn’t leave them.

  “Fine.” Savannah bares her teeth as she says the word. She puts a falsely sweet smile on her face and turns to me. “What do you want to talk about?”

  “I’ve just got a couple questions for you,” I say, ignoring her little temper tantrum. She’s doing what we want, and that’s all that matters. Besides, the bell will ring in about ten minutes, so we don’t have any time to waste. “But not here. Come with me.”

  I grab her arm, and she yelps angrily as I tug her down the hall toward the girls’ bathroom. Low voices rise up from behind us, but I don’t turn back to see what the guys are saying to Trent. I have to trust that they’ll be smart and keep their cool enough not to get busted, and right now, my sole focus is Savannah.

  Pushing the bathroom door open, I pull her inside, then release her to peer under the doors of each of the stalls. There’s no one in any of them, and the freshman girl washing her hands at the sink takes one look at us and scampers out, her hands still dripping.

  As soon as the door closes, I turn to Savannah, only to find her eyes narrowed into slits.

  “So I was right.” She takes a step toward me, cocking her head. “God, you really are the biggest skank to ever walk these halls. You are fucking all four of them.”

  I’m not, actually. Or at least, I haven’t yet.

  But I do want to. And I probably will.

  I’ll be damned if I let someone like Savannah make me feel bad about that though. What I have with the kings of Linwood feels more solid than any other relationship I’ve had with a guy in my life, and although an intense attraction simmers between all of us, it’s about a hell of a lot more than that.

  I like them.

  I’m friends with them.

  I’m falling in love with them.

  My non-reaction doesn’t seem to be what Savannah was hoping for, so she tries again.

  “You know, having four boyfriends doesn’t make you cool or anything.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder, glaring at me. “It just makes you a filthy slut.”

  Anger twists in my stomach, and I lift a mocking eyebrow. “Says the girl with one boyfriend. If you can even call him that. I dunno.” I scrunch my nose up, pretending to think about it. “When the guy you’re fucking has a dick that small, what do you call him? Half a boyfriend?”

  “You fucking bitch!”

  Savannah’s enraged squawk is the only warning I get before she launches herself at me.

  Oops. Must’ve hit a nerve.

  I dodge out of the way of her claw-like fingernails and grab one of her backpack straps, yanking her off balance and then shoving her away from me.

  “Watch. It.”

  My tone is hard as I level a warning finger at her. I’m done taking her shit, and I didn’t bring her in here to get into a stupid catfight.

  Savannah grips the edge of the sink counter to steady herself, then slowly turns around to face me. I can tell by her expression that she’s tallying up everything I know about her, weighing it against the satisfaction of trying to kick my ass. My blackmail material wins—this time.

  She holds up her hands in a sullen, placating gesture and huffs a breath. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

  “You told me that Iris was seeing an older guy. Someone she called her gray fox. Remember?”

  “Of course I remember, you idiot. I’m the one who told you.”

  “Did she say anything else about him?”

  Savannah scowls at me. “Why the hell do you want to know?”

  I grit my teeth. “Because I’m collecting boyfriends, and I want to raise the average age of my harem.”

  Her brows bunch up in confusion, and I roll my eyes. Should’ve known math jokes would go over her fucking head.

  “I just want to know if she said anything else about him, all right? You mentioned that she met him through someone they both knew. Who was that?”

  She still looks suspicious. “Why do you kee
p asking me about Iris?”

  “Savannah!” I swear to God, I can feel my blood simmering in my veins. “Just fucking tell me.”

  She throws up her hands, glaring right back at me. “I don’t know who it was, okay? Some girl she knew from another school. Waverly Prep, I think. I don’t know anything about her, except that she apparently had some amaaazing tattoo that Iris wouldn’t stop talking about. Iris kept saying she was gonna get one too. Like she ever would’ve had the guts.”

  Savannah rolls her eyes, then bites her lip. I think she might feel a little bad for speaking ill of the dead.

  Fuck. A girl from Waverly Prep with a tattoo. That’s all we have to go on?

  “Iris never even mentioned her name? Never told you anything else about her?” I ask desperately.

  “No!” she glares at me. “We didn’t tell each other every fucking thing. This girl was like her ‘rebel friend’ or whatever. She never told me much about her, but she obviously fucking worshipped her. And Iris told me that’s how she met the older guy she was seeing on the side—through this girl.”

  “Are you—”

  The bell blares loudly, cutting me off, and Savannah shoves away from the sink, tugging on the hem of her shirt. It got twisted and bunched up when I spun her around.

  “I told you everything I know. Are you happy now?”

  “Not really,” I say honestly.

  She laughs hollowly, then steps toward me, lowering her voice a little. “Good. I know you think you’ve got all this fucking power over me now, and that I’ll just be your little bitch for the rest of the semester. But don’t think I’ll come running every time you call. And don’t think I won’t find some way to get you back.”

  Before I say anything, she whirls and stalks toward the door, yanking it open and disappearing from sight.

  Great.

  7

  None of the guys have any idea which girl Savannah was talking about. Waverly Prep is a rival school, so they don’t know a lot of kids who go there. But they start putting out feelers, asking around Linwood. Someone here has to have an idea who this mystery girl is, or at least have an in with the Waverly crowd so we could ask someone there.