Lost Boys: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Crazy Vicious Love Book 1)

by Eva Ashwood

  Another night of homework and a microwave dinner came and went, and the next morning, I walked to school. I would have to see about getting a bus pass before the end of the day, but until then, I didn’t really have any other options. I left a little earlier than usual, remembering how long it’d taken me to get home the day before. Part of me wondered if I’d have company again, but I saw no sign of the Lost Boys on the way to school.

  I honestly didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

  Having left the house too early, I arrived early. It wasn’t like the students of Slateview High were clamoring to get to school more than a half-second before the first period bell rang, so the halls were fairly empty. It was nice, actually. Maybe I’d skip the bus pass and just walk to school every day if it was always like this.

  The halls at Slateview always seemed overcrowded—not necessarily because there were too many students filling the space, but because everyone was always jostling, yelling, pushing or shoving. I hadn’t realized how tense it made me, how much it felt like walking through a battlefield, until I could traverse the hallways in peace.

  But just because there weren’t many people here early, it didn’t mean I was truly alone. And it was stupid as hell of me to forget that.

  I was on my way to my locker to deposit the books I wouldn’t need until later in the day when suddenly, rough hands grabbed my arms. I was pulled off to the side down a hallway near my locker.

  Before I could even register what was happening, a boy I didn’t recognize had me pressed up against the wall, his knee between my thighs and his hands on either side of my head as he leered down at me. My books fell out of my hands, and he pressed closer when I futilely tried to pick them up.

  “Uh uh uh, none of that.” He grinned widely, showing off a slightly chipped front tooth. His dark green eyes glinted with something malicious and gleeful—like a cat batting around a mouse before it goes in for the kill—and he smelled like cheap cigarettes. “You’re that sweet little rich girl, huh? New kid. I’m Logan. You could say I’m the welcoming committee.”

  I swallowed. “Welcoming committee?”

  “Yeah. You know. Welcoming the new meat to Slateview.” His hand trailed up my stomach, under my shirt, and my skin crawled at the contact.

  Oh shit. No.

  This boy was like Barrett without the veneer of civility, without the mask of chivalry. As soon as that thought hit me, my blood went cold. I pushed at his chest.

  “Stop! Get away from me.”

  He laughed. “Nah, I don’t think so. I just told you I was the welcoming committee. And I haven’t welcomed you properly, have I?”

  Someone whistled, and with dawning horror, I realized that other students were watching. Another person whooped, laughing.

  “Yeah, Logan! Let’s see a little more, yeah?”

  “You heard ’em.” The beefy boy leaned even closer to me, trapping me between the wall and his body. “They want a show. And I’m not sure if anybody informed you of this, but the rule at Slateview is, fresh meat does whatever it’s told.”

  His hand pushed up further, and I felt a sinking, sick feeling brewing in my stomach. I knew better by now than to think anyone was going to see this and stop him. Everyone at this school had made it obvious they didn’t care what happened to me unless it was causing me suffering. I stood there, unable to move, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest, my ears ringing, as his fingers shifted even higher.

  I squirmed in his grasp, shame and desperation burning through me. It was bad enough to have a boy I didn’t even know touching me like this, but he was doing it in front of other people, exposing me to them as he groped me shamelessly.

  Oh God. Where will he stop? When will he stop? He wouldn’t—in front of everyone—would he?

  “Please. Stop! I said stop!”

  I could barely hear my own voice over the ringing in my ears and the laughter around me. The noise seemed to swell, filling my senses as Logan’s hands slid up my stomach, pushing my shirt up and over my breasts. Cold air hit the skin around my bra as rough fingers tugged at the straps, and I lost it. I could barely move with the weight of his pelvis pinning me in place, his body resting against mine, but I flailed and kicked, striking out with my fists as catcalls and whistles joined the roar of laughter—

  “What. The. Fuck?”

  Suddenly, Logan’s weight was off me, and he was slammed against the wall beside me. It took me a moment to figure out what the hell was going on, a moment to put together that someone had in fact stopped this boy from… from…

  I blinked as I realized that Kace had Logan pressed against the wall, his hand around Logan’s throat. Misael and Bishop stood with him, eyeing the boy with the chipped tooth, their faces unreadable.

  “What the fuck? I thought we were clear about what was gonna be done with little miss Princess.” Bishop’s voice had a hard edge to it. “And I don’t recall giving you permission to touch, Logan.”

  Logan shrugged, moving only his shoulders since Kace still held him by the throat. But he didn’t argue with Bishop—not that I thought he could. He was big and broad-shouldered, but Kace was even bigger than he was. I wouldn’t want to try to fight the intense blond boy either.

  “Must have slipped my mind, bruh. Won’t happen again.”

  “Better not,” Bishop said. “You know how shit’s run around here.”

  Kace tossed Logan away, shoving him so hard he almost lost his footing. He stumbled and then righted himself, shooting a glance back at me. The hallway had gone oddly quiet, but that didn’t stop Logan from giving me a smirk as he passed me by.

  I swallowed, moving to bend down and pick up my things. But Misael had already grabbed them, and he held them out to me as the other two boys watched with their arms folded across their chests.

  I didn’t know what to say. Should I say thank you? Should I ask them why they’d helped me when I knew for a fact that they didn’t like me? That they had… plans for me? Gratefulness warred with caution. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to act.

  Misael grinned, and there was something both boyishly charming and threatening about it.

  “Keep yourself outta trouble, Princess. We don’t like having to do extra work for our investments.”

  Investment?

  I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that, but I was too scared to ask. Whatever being an “investment” meant, was it worth it if it kept Logan’s hands off me?

  “I… right. Thank you.”

  I went to take my things from Misael, intent on hiding somewhere, maybe the bathroom, to calm down before having to head to class. Misael didn’t hand over my things, however. He kept hold of them as Kace came up beside me, his hand on my upper arm. Bishop looked at me, his head tilted.

  “I’m not sure why you think we’re done here.”

  Nine

  Oh. Shit.

  The Lost Boys had stopped Logan, but no one stopped the Lost Boys from dragging me outside. They were the law of the land, that much was obvious. And while they policed the halls of Slateview, no one policed them.

  That wasn’t reassuring.

  Trepidation—no, real, unfettered fear—clawed through my veins as they brought me out back, pushing through the double doors behind the school. There was no one out here. No crowd of students leering and cheering. That was almost worse.

  “Y’know, I thought rich people were supposed to be resourceful. Powerful.” Kace pushed me against the wall, not releasing his grip on me. “You can’t even go one morning without someone jumping you. Kinda pathetic.”

  “It’s not my fault this school is full of psychopaths,” I snapped.

  Bishop laughed.

  “That’s rich, coming from you.” Kace stepped back as the other two boys came to stand in front of me alongside him. “But maybe you’re not quite so much Daddy’s Little Princess?”

  My face heated, fury joining the fear roaring through my veins.

  “I don’t understand y
our hatred of my father,” I said, keeping my voice low and even. “He’s not… what you or anyone else in this school say he is. I know my father. You’ve never even met him. You don’t know anything about him—”

  Bishop stepped forward suddenly, propping his hands on either side of my head, leaning in close to my face. Close enough that the heat of his body blazed against mine, close enough that the scent of woodsy body wash filled my nose as the intensity of those hazel eyes flecked in gold held my own.

  “I know enough. I know your father is the reason a hell of a lot of people I care about are suffering right now,” he murmured, his voice suddenly ice cold, dripping frigid down my spine. “I know enough to know that when a man like your dad goes and buys up health department buildings all through a state and turns them into luxury spas and health facilities for rich fucks, the people who actually need medicine, who need care, don’t end up fucking getting it.” He laughed, though it looked like he had more to say. And his words sounded personal somehow, making me think he wasn’t talking about hypothetical people. “But of course, Daddy’s little princess doesn’t know shit about that, does she? Daddy should’ve kept all his ducks in a row. Then princess wouldn’t have to pay the price for what her father trashed.”

  Vitriol dripped off every word Bishop said.

  It was hatred. Pure hatred.

  I had never heard another person speak like that. Not to me, not to anyone. And every bit of Bishop’s anger and hatred was directed at my father.

  How could the man who’d raised me deserve all that? I knew Dad was tough and demanding. I knew he pushed hard in his business deals. But had his ruthlessness really reached that level of cruelty? Of inhumanity? Bishop seemed to think so. Everyone at Slateview High seemed to think so.

  “Bish?” Misael spoke up, his hand settling on Bishop’s shoulder. Bishop stared down at me, that burning, hate-filled gaze holding mine until he sneered and pushed away from the wall.

  My knees wobbled, and I had to fight hard not to let myself slide down the rough brick wall until my ass hit the ground. Bishop’s hatred might be directed at my dad, but he seemed to have found the perfect conduit for his feelings—me.

  “Let me lay it out for you,” he said, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “I already told you we run the school, but maybe I should’ve been clearer about what the fuck that means. No one does anything we haven’t sanctioned. You think it’s lawless here? It ain’t. We just decide what the law is. We decide what the hierarchy is. Who has the power. And Princess? You got none. Just about all the kids here have a reason to hate you. Whether their families were destroyed by yours, or they have someone close to them who was—just about everyone in this school would love to see you get fucked up, fucked over, or just fucked.”

  He let that sink in for me, not that it needed to embed itself further into me. It was obvious, wasn’t it? The constant torment, my car, the incident this morning. I believed him when he said everyone hated me.

  But I still didn’t know what he was getting at.

  “Yeah. I’m aware. You don’t have to rub it in,” I snapped.

  Bishop shrugged, the movement lazy and predatory. “Ain’t rubbing it in. Making it clear. There’s only one way to keep what happened this morning with Logan from happening again… worse next time, probably.”

  I scoffed, trying to cover up the fear that swelled inside me like a balloon expanding. “Oh really? And what’s that?”

  “You need protection. We’ll provide it,” Misael said.

  What?

  This was the second time these boys had cornered me behind the school. Bishop had made no secret of the fact that he hated me, and neither of the other two seemed to have anything but dislike and disdain for me either.

  So why the hell would they have any interest in looking out for me?

  I blinked, shaking my head slightly as my mouth dropped open. This couldn’t be right. They had to be messing with me.

  Misael laughed. “Ha. Told ya Princess wouldn’t believe it.”

  “Why—why do you want to protect me?”

  “It’s less a matter of want, and more a matter of dibs,” Kace said, his face scarily blank as he narrowed his eyes slightly. “We got as much reason to hate you as anybody else around here. But protecting you… that makes you ours. To dole whatever punishment you deserve without having to share.”

  I felt like I’d been drenched in ice.

  “Excuse me?”

  “It ain’t that hard to comprehend, Princess.” Kace huffed a breath, his muscles flexing as he crossed his arms. “We can’t lay it out any clearer than that. But I can guarantee the three of us are better than a whole school-full of assholes like Logan running around looking to take out their anger on you.”

  I shook my head. No. This isn’t happening. They couldn’t possibly think it was sane for me to even consider their “offer”. To throw myself at their mercy, hoping against all odds that they would be kinder to me than the other students here.

  They wouldn’t be.

  How could they, when Bishop was still standing less than a foot away from me, angry energy pulsing from him with such force I could feel it like a physical blow.

  They wouldn’t protect me.

  They’d destroy me.

  Unthinking, I pushed at Bishop, shoving him as hard as I could before sprinting away. I needed to get him, get all of them, away from me. I needed to run, to escape this hellhole, to wake up from this never-ending nightmare—

  But it was futile. I didn’t know who grabbed me, but before I could make it to any kind of safety, I was pulled back. Strong arms held against one of them while Bishop stepped in front of me again, looking down at me.

  “Well. At least you’re a bit of a fighter,” he said with a chuckle. I was shocked to hear a measure of respect in his voice. Then his hazel eyes hardened like glass. “But I’d encourage you to weigh your options, Princess. We don’t give second chances.”

  Ten

  The house was quiet as I lay in bed that night, my thoughts tumbling around in my head too fast for me to sleep.

  It was dark out. The stillness was something I still wasn’t used to. It made it feel like our tiny rental house—or maybe the whole neighborhood—was haunted. The walls held that kind of creepy, oppressive feeling that made it hard to fall asleep. This wasn’t the first night I had lain awake after a hot shower—or as hot as I could get it, considering lukewarm seemed to be the hottest setting for all the water in the house—staring up at my ceiling.

  I had considered telling Mom about the Lost Boys’ proposal earlier. There had to be something I could do about… that. Wasn’t there? Some kind of rule against it, against that kind of blackmail and coercion.

  But even if they existed, who could enforce those rules when the Lost Boys ruled the entire school?

  Slateview High had a principal, dozens of teachers, and guidance counselors. There were people who were supposedly there to help the students get through their schooling, to deal with kids who broke rules or didn’t play well with others. But I had never once seen the admins intervene, and the more I thought about it, the more certain I became that going to the principal would only make my position at the school worse.

  And if it came down to whether I wanted to deal with three dangerous, unpredictable boys or a whole school full of people like Logan and Serena, the choice wasn’t easy. I wasn’t sure how long I could survive having the whole school after me. And if I refused their offer, then I’d essentially be up against the school and the Lost Boys, who would have even more of a reason to retaliate against me…

  Ugh. This is stupid. Honestly considering taking them up on their offer is insane.

  I would be theirs, belong to them, in exchange for protection. What kind of protection was that?

  My mind drifted back to the incident in the morning with Logan. How he’d so easily tugged me down a hall. The way he’d laughed as he’d groped me in full view of everyone. How people had encouraged him.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew where that’d been heading. And if the Lost Boys hadn’t shown up, I knew what would’ve happened. No one else would have stopped it; they probably would’ve thought it was what I deserved.

  I sighed.

  I wasn’t even sure anymore what I deserved. Surely it couldn’t be… whatever this fucked up situation was.

  With a muffled groan, I rolled over, lifting my phone off its spot at the edge of the mattress to check the time. It was after one o’clock. I pressed the button to shut the screen off and forced my eyes closed. Maybe if I just kept them that way long enough, I might be able to drift off, to get some sleep. I’d need at least some kind of rest to be able to face the day tomorrow, with a school full of people who hated me and a trio of boys I still wasn’t sure were the better option.

  A sudden sound at my window made me sit up, my eyelids flying open—and then I gasped.

  The smudged glass pane rose as it was pushed open from the outside. A shaggy head of chocolate brown hair popped through, and then an entire body.

  Bishop.

  I stared, mouth agape and unspeaking because… well, what the hell did you even say to some random boy breaking into your room in the middle of the night? I probably should’ve screamed, but a flash of fear for my mother kept my lips glued shut. I didn’t know what Bishop wanted, and I had no idea what he was capable of—but I did know he hated my whole family, and I had to assume that would include my mom.

  Whatever screwed up mess I was entangled in, I could at least try to keep her out of it.

  Bishop didn’t even say anything to me—just straightened himself up, glanced around my room, and started going through my things. He went to my dresser first, picking up and examining the small trinkets that I had managed to bring with me from home. He moved on quickly to my drawers, pulling one open and rifling through it lazily, like he had all the time in the world to kill.