Savage Elites: An Elite High School Bully Romance (Bully Boys of Brittas Academy Book 2)

by Sofia Daniel

  “Police?” one of the women screeched.

  “Bloody hell!” bellowed a male board member.

  I clutched my tightening chest, shaking with the force of the palpitations. Cormac placed an arm around my waist to keep me upright.

  Mr. Byrd glanced from the photos to me and back to the photos again. Then a tiny smile curled his lips, and he winked.

  Miss Claymore whirled on me, her dark eyes burning with fury. “Get out. And report to Mrs. Benazir’s office tomorrow after classes.”

  I backed out of the room, on legs that trembled so much, they barely hold my body weight. Mr. Byrd shook his head in mock disapproval, plucked the dossiers of the two outraged women at his left and right, opened up his briefcase, and placed them inside.

  Ice filled my veins. He would probably use those pictures at a later point to blackmail me into dropping the charges against Bianca.

  Chapter 13

  Despite Miss Claymore’s screeched demands for me to get out of her sight, I collected as many of those prospectuses as I could with Cormac’s help, but Mr. Byrd denied slipping three copies into his briefcase. I would have stayed to fight my case, but the deputy headmistress grabbed my arm, dragged me out of the room and slammed the door in my face.

  Clutching the box of prospectuses, I stood out in the hallway and stared at the door. Nausea swirled in my belly, and prickly heat spread across my skin like an army of fire ants. This had to be the work of Bianca. Or Geraldine. Or both.

  Someone turned the door handle, and my heart jumped into my throat. I bolted into the east wing stairwell, still holding the boxes to my chest. Right now, I couldn’t cope with one of the board members demanding further answers. Especially if it was Mrs. Brunswick or Mr. Byrd.

  “If this is what goes on in the academy after your initiatives to curb bullying, it’s not surprising that a girl committed suicide the year before!” a shrill voice echoed.

  Sympathy squeezed my heart. That governor had brought up Corrine’s death without considering the effect it might have on Cormac. I took the stairs two at a time up to the sixth-year boys’ hallway and knocked on Prakash’s door. Sweat gathered on my brow, and I had to brace an arm on the doorframe to keep myself upright.

  Leopold answered the door. A wide grin spread across his features, then his face fell, and his brow furrowed. “Willow, what’s wro—”

  The tight fist of control I held over my emotions loosened, releasing everything in one rush. Shame and anger at having been stripped and violated by those girls, frustration at Ashley’s refusal to have those boys punished, the gut-wrenching despair from the loss of my family. It felt like acid seeping out of my heart and burning me from the inside, out.

  My knees collapsed to the ground, and a prospectus slipped out of the box, spilling those terrible photos across the parquet floor.

  Prakash walked around from the other side of the room and picked up a photo. He sucked in a noisy gasp. “Where did you get these?”

  “The Board of Governors,” I whispered. “Someone wanted them to see.”

  Leopold set me onto my feet and guided me to the leather sofa. He wrapped a warm, comforting arm around my shoulders.

  “None of this is your fault, do you understand that?” he whispered.

  I bowed my head and wept. It hadn’t occurred to me that the girls would have taken photos of their assault on me. And I certainly didn’t think they would make things worse by showing the photos to the governors.

  My shoulders shook. “I’ll never be able to look any of them in the eye again.”

  “They’re the ones who should be ashamed, not you,” Prakash murmured.

  “Huh?” I asked.

  “They failed to protect their best student. If they had any decency, they would apologize and make things right.”

  Prakash made me a steaming cup of tea and added two spoons of sugar for the shock. I murmured my thanks and stared at the box sitting on the floor by my feet.

  “I’ll get Sebastian.” Prakash strode out of the door.

  A moment later, he returned with a barefooted Sebastian, whose eyes bulged at the sight of my weepy, disheveled state. “What’s happened?”

  I bowed my head and stared into my drink. In halting, stuttering words, I recounted what had happened, including Mr. Byrd keeping copies of the photos.

  Sebastian lowered himself into the seat next to mine and held me to his chest while I sobbed out my anger and frustration until my tears dried up, and my throat went hoarse. Leopold’s mother might disparage me because of the photos, but the thought of Bianca’s father pouring over images of me, naked and helpless, made my stomach churn.

  Sebastian growled. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. And we’ll make whoever did this regret hurting you.”

  “The question is who,” said Leopold. “My money’s on the jealous twin.”

  Prakash rubbed his chin. “But she was expelled last week, won’t have access to the building, and likely doesn’t know anything about Board of Governors meetings. I think Bianca is more likely to have done this.”

  “There is someone else who might want Willow gone.” Leopold said in that steel voice. “Do you have any ideas, Seb?”

  Sebastian let go of me and stood. “L-leave it with me. I’ll go and investigate.”

  Leopold shot out of his seat. “You—”

  “I said I’d find out,” Sebastian snapped.

  My heart flip-flopped. “What’s going on with you two? You’ve been politely at each other’s throats for weeks.”

  Prakash stood and positioned himself between Leopold and Sebastian, as though ready to stop a fight. I clutched my chest, breathing hard. From the grim determination in Prakash’s face, this probably wasn’t the first time the two kings had come to blows.

  “Wills asks an excellent question.” The edge in Leopold’s voice could have cut throats. “Perhaps the esteemed Mr. Garraway can elaborate.”

  “Fuck off!” Sebastian roared.

  A metallic screech filled the air, reminding me of the kind of feedback made by poorly-set up microphones.

  Sebastian’s face fell. “What’s that?”

  Prakash rose. “It came from under the desk.”

  I ducked my head and peered into the corner of the room. It was so tidy, I doubted someone could hide anything there without notice.

  Prakash went on his hands and knees. “There’s nothing there.”

  “Let me see.” Leopold knelt behind his friend.

  Prakash shuffled to the side, giving Leopold space to crawl under the desk.

  A dull ache formed in my belly. It might have been worry, it might have been residual nausea from the photos, but I clasped my hands over my middle in an attempt to keep it from spasming. This situation had just taken a turn for the peculiar, and I couldn’t distract the boys from finding the source of the feedback.

  Sebastian stared down at me with shining, green eyes that didn’t quite meet my gaze. He had to be protecting someone Leopold suspected was behind the photos… as well as everything else. Someone who wasn’t Prakash.

  I tightened my arms around my middle and thought back. Outside of the kings and me, Sebastian didn’t speak at length to anyone. Except for the few barbs he exchanged with Cormac, who he would most likely want to throw under the bus.

  “You said you needed a new lightbulb,” said Leopold from beneath the desk.

  “That’s right,” Prakash replied.

  After the click of a plug coming out of its socket, Leopold said, “Try your lamp somewhere else.”

  Prakash pulled the lamp out, placed it on his bedside table, and plugged it in. The supposedly broken bulb lit up. I lowered my head into my hands. Someone had replaced the electrical socket under the table with a recording device.

  “A bug?” asked Sebastian.

  “Why would someone want to eavesdrop into your conversations?” I asked.

  “Another excellent question,” Leopold snapped from under the table.

  I sho
t to my feet and placed both hands on my hips. “It’s time for you three to reveal what you’re hiding. Whoever put those photos in the prospectuses might also be behind the recording device and the murder attempt. What if this person decides to strike again? How could you withhold their identity when my life is in danger?”

  Leopold crawled out from under the desk with his palms up. “Don’t look at me.”

  I turned to Sebastian and was about to rant at him when he stood and placed his hands on my shoulders. “Just give me a day to sort something out.”

  “Or someone,” Leopold muttered.

  Sebastian turned and walked toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  He walked out into the hallway. “To stop this thing that’s happening.”

  My shoulders sagged. Why was he being so stubborn, and who could he possibly need to protect and why? I turned to Leopold. “Can’t you at least give me a clue on who to avoid?”

  Leopold and Prakash exchanged guilty looks, but Leopold spoke first. “Prakash and I are watching your back and putting pressure on Sebastian to open up to you.”

  I jerked my head away. How could they watch out for me all the time? Curiosity burned through the remnants of my insides, and I longed to follow him to see where he went.

  Leopold placed a hand on my am. “This is a sore subject for him, and I feel like a shit-stain for withholding information, but—”

  “It’s alright.” I picked up the box. The more I whined and cried for information, the more powerless and pathetic I felt. It was time for me to start using every resource at my disposal to discover who was behind these attacks. “Sebastian’s like a brother to you, and I’m—”

  “I’d tell you if I could, but you’re better off hearing it directly from the source. It’s like trying to calculate pi to the final digit.” He shuddered. “Not an endeavor I care to undertake.”

  I turned to Prakash, hoping he might be more willing to open up.

  Prakash took the box from my hand and placed it on the desk. “Don’t look at me. Sebastian didn’t go very far. If you follow the breadcrumbs, you’ll meet the wicked stepmother.”

  “By breadcrumbs, he means Sebastian’s footsteps,” Leopold added.

  Without a word or a backward glance, I bolted out of the room and down the nearest staircase. Someone, presumably Leopold and Prakash, opened the door to the stairwell and hurried after me. My insides relaxed at the thought of having backup. This would be just like the time I confronted the knights during their pigging of Ashley.

  As I rounded a corner, a larger body grabbed me from behind and clapped a hand over my mouth. Panic exploded across my chest, and I thrashed out, but the suit-clad attacker held me in his tight grip.

  “You will not ruin my reputation with lies,” hissed a harsh voice.

  I let out a scream through my nose, but he opened the door to the third-floor landing and kicked it shut before the sound could carry. Seconds later, he pulled us into an alcove.

  From the mingled scents of tobacco, dry-cleaning fluid, and mothballs, this could only be Mr. Byrd.

  His hardness pressed into my ass, and disgust rippled through my belly. The more I struggled, the more he became aroused. I let my body go limp.

  His heavy breaths slowed. “Are you going to be quiet like a good girl and listen to what I have to say?”

  I nodded.

  The forearm Mr. Byrd wrapped around my middle wedged itself underneath my breasts, and I forced myself not to squirm. Forced myself not to give him the struggle he wanted and forced myself to wait. My heart accelerated, and sweat poured down my brow.

  “The other day in Mrs. Benazir’s office when you saw me reprimand my daughter, that’s all you saw. A slap.”

  I stiffened. If he was willing to admit to slapping Bianca, then it was to cover up the even more atrocious act he had wanted to commit against his own daughter.

  “Now, Miss Evergreen. What did you see when you walked in on Bianca and me?” He loosened his grip.

  “A slap,” I said from behind the hand still loosely clamped around my mouth.

  “Are you going to tell anyone about what happened in here?” he asked.

  I shook my head, hoping to convince him of my silent lie.

  “Will you sign a document to that effect?”

  I nodded, hoping he didn’t have it on him.

  “Very good.” He released me and walked away. “Bianca will be in touch with you soon. Don’t make me return here to warn you again. You won’t get off quite so lightly.”

  I clapped a shaking hand over my mouth and spun around, only to see him disappear around the corner. His footsteps receded down the hallway, a door creaked open and then shut, but I still stayed in that alcove.

  After several moments, a long, shuddering breath escaped my lungs. I had thought he would—I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. Mr. Byrd was an evil monster but not an idiot. If I spread any shit about him, no matter how true, he would carry out his unspoken threat.

  All thoughts of Sebastian and whatever he might be hiding receded into the back of my mind. The more immediate threat of Mr. Byrd might still lurk in the hallways, encouraged by my naked photos and the grudge he held against me for seeing him abuse his own daughter.

  I stuck my head out of the alcove and peered down the hallway. As much as I wanted to rush back to Leopold and Prakash to tell them about Mr. Byrd, I couldn’t risk encountering him in the east stairwell. Instead, I turned in the other direction and ran to the west wing without stopping.

  After locking myself in my room, I slid down the door and spent the rest of the night on the floor staring blankly between the scanned pages of Corrine’s diary and the translated Optical Character Recognition on my laptop. Mr. Byrd had left me too scrambled to refine the rough translations into coherent words. Did grabbing someone while aroused count as sexual assault?

  Rubbing at my temples, I bit down hard on my bottom lip. “Shit,” I muttered. “What should I do next?”

  Mr. Byrd hadn’t rubbed his erection into my ass, nor had he touched my breasts with his hands, but my insides still rippled with revulsion. The man had done just enough to shake me to the marrow while not doing anything concrete enough to report.

  “This is so fucked up.” I slammed the lid of my laptop shut and slid it across my parquet floor. “He’s twisted me into knots.”

  Thanks to Ashley talking shit to the police, I didn’t want to be the girl who cried wolf and have my more serious complaints dismissed, but I also didn’t want to encourage further encounters by making him think I would let the matter slide.

  Early the next morning, just as I was changing, someone knocked on my door. I asked who it was, but the person continued knocking. I took my time and fastened my tie and slipped on my jacket before crossing the room, flinging open the door, and snapping, “What?”

  Bianca stepped back. “Father says you’re going to—”

  I slammed the door in her face and turned the lock. If she wanted me to sign a document saying her father wasn’t an abusive monster, I would stuff it down her throat.

  Bianca continued knocking, but I ignored her until it was time to go to breakfast. She followed me to the dining room, reminding me of my obligation, but I continued to ignore her. Fortunately, she backed off by the time I sat at the kings’ table, but she continued to shoot me furious glowers.

  “Where’s Sebastian?” I asked Leopold.

  “Brooding, most likely,” muttered the blond boy.

  “I still have that box in my room,” said Prakash. “What do you want me to do with its contents?”

  “I’ll collect them after class and call the police in my next free period. Those photos will be proof that I wasn’t conscious.”

  “If you want, I can drive you to the police station at lunchtime,” said Prakash.

  “Thanks, but Miss Claymore said I have to see Mrs. Benazir then. If you’re free after prep, I’d welcome a ride to Carlisle.”

>   “Are you meeting Mrs. Benazir in her office?” Prakash’s gaze slid to Leopold’s.

  “Yes. Why?” I asked.

  “We just want to know where you’ll be.”

  I nodded and dipped my gaze to my kippers on toast. Somehow, Mrs. Benazir would find a way to twist things around so that the school wasn’t responsible for those photos.

  The fury in Miss Claymore’s glower made me shudder. It had been bad enough that the deputy head had been left to face the Board of Governors on her own, but she probably also had to make some hasty explanations about why naked pictures of the school’s highest-scoring student made their way into the prospectuses.

  Prakash and I walked to Advanced Calculus together, where Miss Weir paused the class to ask whether I’d had a relapse. And in English class, Sebastian sat at the front looking so distracted, Miss Claymore made him stay behind for not paying attention.

  On my way out, I bumped into Cormac, who flushed and scampered away like a frightened rabbit. He probably had difficulty looking me in the eye after seeing those nude pictures.

  “Good luck with Mrs. Benazir,” said Prakash as we stepped out into the hallway. “Remember, you’re the wronged party, and she needs to make amends with you and not the other way around.”

  “Thanks.” Warmth spread through my chest. His advice, whenever I had taken it, had never steered me wrong.

  I walked down the stairs and through the hallway, dread made my feet drag along the floor, but I threw back my shoulders and let Prakash’s words fill my mind. Miss Claymore and Mrs. Benazir should be apologizing, not asking for explanations.

  With as much confidence as I could muster, I rapped on her door. “Mrs. Benazir?”

  “Miss Evergreen?” the woman slurred.

  I stepped inside to find the headmistress slumped over her desk.

  “I-is anything the matter?” I asked.

  She rubbed her stomach. “I had prawns last night. It was probably a bad choice.”

  “Oh.” I gulped. “Should I call Dr. Forrester?”

  She waved me inside. “Over a bout of food poisoning? I’m sure it will pass soon.”

  Mrs. Benazir reached down and spat into her metal waste-paper basket. The whole scenario reminded me of that time I entered Miss. Claymore’s office, feeling sick. I reached into my blazer pocket and pulled out a tube of the deputy head’s ginger mints to stave off my nausea.