The Sainthood : A Dark High School Romance (The Complete Series)

by Siobhan Davis

  “I’m not after Parker’s crown. She’ll back off when she realizes that.” What I need to do requires me to blend into the shadows. To become almost invisible so I can sneak around undetected. Having a spotlight on my head would cause too many delays.

  Sariah pushes her short blonde hair behind her ears. “We both know that’s a lie.”

  “Yeah,” I chuckle, as I pull the car through the rusted iron gates at the front of my new school. “But it’s fun to fantasize sometimes.”

  _______________

  The metal detector beeps as I walk through the scanner, as I expected it would. The female security guard pats me down as other students stream through the doors, gawking at me like I’m a new science experiment.

  “You can’t bring knives to school,” the guard says, frowning as she removes the dull blade from the back pocket of my jeans.

  I hold up my palms. “My bad. I’m new.”

  “That’s not an excuse.” Her frown deepens, and she eyes me warily. I hold her gaze, refusing to be intimidated. “I’ll be keeping this,” she adds, dropping it into a brown plastic container along with a bunch of other confiscated weapons. “Move along.”

  “What was that all about?” Sariah murmurs under her breath as we take off.

  “Concealing the knife I have tucked in the inside of my boot,” I quietly reply. I wasn’t joking when I said I carry my Strider SMF everywhere with me.

  She nods in understanding. “Come on.” She tugs on my elbow, steering me around the corner, away from the throngs crowding the hallways. “Let’s get the paperwork shit out of the way.”

  A short while later, we leave the school office. “Everyone’s staring.” Sariah states the obvious as we clutch our schedules and locker combos. Thankfully, we have lockers across from one another, and we share a few of the same classes too.

  “Let them look. No skin off my back.” I ignore the inquisitive gazes of my new schoolmates, keeping pace with Sariah as she leads me down the hallway.

  I’m shoving books in my locker when Sariah shrieks behind me, and I whip around, knuckles raised, ready to inflict some damage. My shoulders relax when I spot Sean with a giggling Sariah lifted in his arms.

  “Hey, Lo.” Sean grins at me as he lowers my bestie to her feet.

  “Hey, stud.” Sean is classically good-looking with dark hair slicked back off his handsome face. With his wide, warm brown eyes, cute dimples, and friendly smile, he’s the perfect boy-next-door type.

  Which is something I’d run a mile from.

  But Sariah is tits over ass crazy about the guy.

  And I can see why.

  He’s massively talented on the field, but he doesn’t sport an ego the size of Texas like most of his teammates. He’s down to earth, funny, smart, and loyal. He worships his girlfriend, and he’s the only reason, besides my parents I believe in the notion of love.

  He’s the atypical jock, and I would’ve adored him for that fact alone.

  But he’s also a decent guy, and there are so few of them around. Just because he doesn’t float my boat doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate him.

  “Hey, sexy.” A hulk of a guy cages me in, leaning over me like he deserves to share my airspace.

  “Get the fuck out of my face.” I shove at his solid chest, but he doesn’t budge. “Your breath reeks.”

  “Back off, Cummings.” Sean appears at our side.

  “I’ve got this.” I pin Sean with a “back off” look. The last thing I want or need is someone riding to my rescue. Especially on day one.

  “Cummings.” I smile sweetly at him, utilizing an alternative strategy. “That’s an unfortunate name.” I trail my finger from his collarbone down lower.

  He smirks, and he’d probably be hot if he lost the arrogant entitled look he’s currently sporting. “I happen to like my name.” He presses his mouth to my ear. “The ladies call me The Cum King.”

  Gag. “Oh, yeah?” I feign interest, grinning as I run my hand down lower, along the rippling muscles of his six pack, inching toward the band of his jeans.

  “Meet me under the bleachers after school, and I’ll demonstrate why.” He waggles his brows, and the smug expression on his face only adds to the overall unattractiveness of his proposition.

  “You know,” I say, sliding my hand down over his crotch, palming the semi in his jeans. “I think I’ll pass. Because anyone who’s proud to be called The Cum King is a Grade-A douche, and I tend to steer clear of arrogant, asshole players.” I grab his junk, twisting it in a way I know is painful, digging my nails into the denim.

  He howls, pushing away from me, cupping his dick and swearing. “You fucking whore.”

  I roll my eyes. “So cliché.”

  Sean chuckles, and I spot a few guys flanking him at the rear; some smirking, some scowling, and some holding their crotches protectively.

  “You’ve just sealed your fate, bitch,” Cummings says, straightening up, his face puce.

  “I’m quaking in my boots,” I deadpan, as a shadow looms over me from behind.

  “Making friends already, princess?” His dark chuckle raises all the tiny hairs on my arms.

  I turn around slowly, blood boiling in my veins, hands clenched tight at my sides.

  Saint Lennox stares me out of it. His blue eyes radiate challenge, his cocky smirk conveys superiority, and he holds himself confidently, his body a strong, taut, physical weapon, as he silently threatens me with a dark, dangerous look that electrifies my body and fuels the rage coursing through my body.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I return his stare with a deadly one of my own.

  “Didn’t you get the memo?” he says, leaning into my face, his warm breath fanning across my already overheated skin. “We just transferred in.”

  I glance over his shoulder for the first time, locking eyes with Galen, Theo, and Caz. They stand stoically behind their leader with their shoulders back, heads up, and lethal expressions on their faces, danger seeping from their pores, their bodies primed to annihilate anything or anyone who stands in their path.

  Galen snaps his gaze to me, glaring in a way that lets me know he still despises me. His hatred is so visceral he can’t conceal it.

  I flip him the middle finger, returning his venom with my own special brand.

  He steps forward, placing his hand on my shoulder and gripping me with iron strength. “Welcome to senior year, angel,” he growls, his dark eyes unleashing wave after wave of fury, an unspoken promise that he’s never letting this go. “It’s going to be your own personal version of hell.”

  CHAPTER 3

  “BACK THE FUCK up.” A gruff voice commands the crowd that has formed around us, and they instantly part, bowing in deference as if Finn Houston is Travis fucking Scott.

  Idiots.

  Galen removes his hand from my shoulder as The Sainthood turn en masse to face Lowell High’s self-proclaimed king.

  Finn spares me a passing look, a flare of recognition sparking in his eyes, and there goes my anonymity. I can only hope he’s as keen to keep the news of our past hookup a secret from his girlfriend as I am. A muscle ticks in Finn’s jaw as he squares up to Saint.

  A flash of vivid color draws my eye, and I lock gazes with Parker Brooks, Finn’s purple-haired, blue-eyed queen. She’s standing beside her boyfriend, her gaze pinned on me, hatred clearly visible.

  Maybe, she already knows I screwed her man. Or she’s just a bitch who hates any newcomer. Or she’s one of those girls wanting to spill my blood because she’s jealous I fucked The Sainthood.

  Whatever the reason, she’s already decided I’m her enemy.

  Might as well embrace it.

  I cock my head to the side, rubbing my middle finger up and down the side of my nose in an obvious slur. Her nostrils flare, and she looks like she wants to tear me limb from limb.

  A low chuckle drags my attention away from queen bitch, and my eyes meet Caz’s. “Naughty, princess,” he mouths before Galen digs his elbow
into his ribs, forcing him to focus.

  “Got a problem, Houston?” Saint asks, letting his gaze roll slowly and deliberately over every inch of Parker.

  Acid churns in my belly at the seductive look he’s giving her, and I want to gouge his eyeballs out so he can’t look at her anymore.

  The strength of my reaction shocks me, but I refuse to name the emotion. Instead, I turn inside myself, locking all that emotional crap down. Feeling more in control, I plaster a “don’t give a shit” expression on my face while I wait to see how this plays out. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Sean pulling an angry Sariah back from the confrontation. She’s struggling in his hold, wriggling and writhing, her face a mask of naked hatred. Sean’s eyes lock on mine, and I subtly nod.

  Get her out of here.

  It’s not that Sariah can’t hold her own, but she shouldn’t have to. She’s seen enough violence and bloodshed to last a lifetime.

  I only recently discovered she believes The Sainthood was responsible for murdering her entire family. Not that she has any proof. And it could’ve been one of the other gangs, but she says her gut tells her they were involved, and that’s good enough to add another reason to my ever-growing list.

  Sariah doesn’t talk about what happened, because the trauma is all too real, and I’ve never pried. All I know is her family was murdered, in front of her, because of some drug deal gone wrong. She survived because she played dead when her brother’s lifeless body fell on top of her. She stayed that way for hours, too terrified to move. It was only when the cops showed up, a couple hours later, that she was taken to safety.

  She was thirteen when her world upended.

  The same age I was when it happened to me.

  “Grab your fuck toy,” Finn spits, spearing Saint with a vicious look, “and get the fuck out of my school.”

  Saint squares up to Finn. They are matched in height, and it’s like watching Goliath face off against The Rock. “Seems you didn’t get the memo either.” He tilts his head to the side, a familiar sneer gracing his mouth. “This is Sainthood territory now. Your little crew is no more.” He firmly shoves Finn’s shoulders. “Show some respect, and get the fuck out of my face.”

  “Fuck you, asshole.” Finn shoves Saint, and Galen, Theo, and Caz stiffen, clenching their fists, ready to spill blood. “You don’t get to show up here and lay claim to what’s mine.”

  Saint shakes his head, chuckling. “That’s exactly what we get to do.”

  “The Sainthood has no jurisdiction in Lowell,” Brooklyn Robbins says, stepping up beside Finn. Brooklyn is to Finn who Bryant is to Darrow. The second in command with the physicality to scare most threats away. He’s a couple inches taller than Saint and Finn, and as a fullback on the football team, he’s a good bit wider too.

  I’ve done my homework on my new schoolmates. Plus, it’s always been in my best interests to understand the gang rivalries in play between Lowell and Prestwick.

  One thing I know for sure is Finn, Brooklyn, and their crew stand zero chance against The Sainthood. A lowly school-based gang won’t last five seconds against one of the country’s deadliest gangs.

  People fear The Sainthood for a reason. And now the guys have turned eighteen, they are all undergoing initiation. As soon as they graduate, they’ll move up to the senior branch. No doubt, their successors at the junior level are already waiting in the wings, being trained to take over. Most likely, that’s who’s been left in charge of Prestwick Academy, their previous stomping ground.

  “We do now,” Galen confirms.

  “This doesn’t have to be a bloodbath,” Caz adds. “Just concede to our rule, and we’ll show you respect.”

  “Over my dead fucking body,” Finn barks, cracking his knuckles and baring his teeth.

  “That can be easily arranged.” Galen drills Finn with a look most men would cower from.

  A yawn slips out of my mouth, and several pairs of eyes dart to mine.

  “Bored, princess?” Saint asks, fighting a smirk.

  “Watching fucktard A face off against fucktard B? You betcha.” I slam my locker shut and then slip the strap of my bag over my shoulder as the bell chimes.

  “Watch your dirty mouth.” Parker nudges past Finn, putting herself all up in my space.

  “Free country. I’ll say what I want and do what I want.”

  Her blue eyes flare with wicked intent. “Liar.” She prods my chest with one bony finger. “We’ve all heard you obeying their commands.” Her gaze jumps between all four guys, and she does little to disguise her interest. If her boyfriend wasn’t behind her, unable to witness her unsophisticated flirtation, I doubt she’d be so brave. She makes little quote marks in the air with her fingers as she attempts to emulate a masculine tone. “Take my cock out. Open wide.”

  Laughter rings out around us from the lingering crowd who is too invested in this stare down to worry about tardy slips.

  I flick her finger away, smirking. “I owned and enjoyed every part of that night. Everything that happened was on my terms, or it never would’ve happened at all. I chose to obey, and last time I checked, that counted as free will. Not that I expect a dimwit like you to understand. Careful there, Parker.” I push her back out of my private space. “Let your GPA slip any lower and even McDonald’s won’t hire you to scrub their toilets.”

  Her fist juts out, but I’ve quick reflexes, and I duck in time, swinging my leg around and taking her down. She falls back on her heels, arms flailing as she squeals like a pig. Gasps and giggles surround us, and it’s not surprising some are enjoying this.

  Finn narrows his eyes at me as he catches his girlfriend just before she cracks her skull off the ground.

  Pity.

  “Football field. Tomorrow after school. Your crew against mine,” Finn says, raising his eyes to Saint.

  Saint cracks his knuckles, grinning like all his birthdays have come at once. “Your funeral.”

  “Keep your whore on a leash,” Finn adds, slinging his arm around a furious Parker as he helps her straighten up. If she wanted to rip me limb from limb before, now, she wants to bury me six feet under, pour gasoline on my broken bones, and piss on me before setting me alight, judging by that look on her face.

  “I’m nobody’s whore or fuck toy.” I step up to Finn. “And if you don’t keep that bitch on a leash, she’ll be sorry.”

  “You stupid cunt of a—”

  Finn clamps his hand over his girlfriend’s mouth, muffling her threat. “Watch it, Westbrook.” Finn’s eyes veer between a warning and an invitation.

  I roll my eyes, so over this pathetic shit.

  With one final venomous look, slanted in Saint’s direction, they walk off.

  Sariah finally breaks free of Sean’s arms, racing to my side. Her wild, animalistic rage has been rescinded, and she’s more in control. “C’mon. You’re going to get a tardy.” She glowers at The Sainthood as she threads her arm through mine. Sean strides to her other side, casting a protective gaze over the proceedings. I can tell from his face he’s unhappy at this latest turn of events, and I don’t blame him.

  I’m not exactly thrilled myself even if I’ve been waiting for them to make their next move.

  “We’re not done here,” Saint says, crossing his arms.

  “You’re right. We’re not.” I eye each of them one at a time. “I still owe you payback.”

  “We weren’t the ones who shared the video online or distributed it to the entire student body,” Theo says, speaking up for the first time.

  “He speaks,” I drawl in my best sarcastic tone. “And don’t pretend to be innocent. You recorded it without my permission. Then you sent it to Darrow to rile him up. And I know you have the skills to configure the file so it’s not shareable, but you didn’t do that because you wanted him to distribute it.”

  He doesn’t even attempt to protest, which is how I know I’m right.

  I think Theo needs a little history lesson. A reminder of exactly who’s in charge h
ere.

  Little clue—it’s not him.

  “Just admit it. You messed up. Again.”

  Saint’s all-seeing eyes bore a hole in Theo’s skull, but he’s pretending he can’t feel the weight of his stare. Theo’s fingers grip his phone tight, and his jaw hardens. I’m betting he regrets everything that went down between us. Because it gives me power over him, and he knows I’ll use that to my advantage. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when Saint corners him about this later. Love to hear what bullshit excuse he comes up with to continue concealing the truth.

  “You knew the stakes,” Saint says, refocusing the conversation. He lounges against the wall of lockers, deliberately looking bored. “And I told you we don’t do charity work.”

  “That doesn’t give you a free pass! I knew Darrow would be gunning for me, but you gave him more ammunition.”

  “Not our fault you were too dumb to ask if there were cameras in the room,” Galen sneers.

  “How is it”—I extract my arm from Sariah’s and push my face into Galen’s—“the house is falling apart from neglect, but somehow, there’s cash for security cameras?”

  “That’s none of your business.” He grinds his teeth, and his jaw clenches.

  I know from talking with Mom that the house was his grandparents’ house. His grandma left it to his mom when she died. The snooping I did confirmed Galen’s mom is a hardcore coke addict, and that explains a lot.

  Except the cameras.

  Obviously, the organization paid for them, but I hadn’t been expecting them in Galen’s house. Saint’s house? Yes. Because he’s the leader. But Galen is only second in command of the junior branch of The Sainthood and I didn’t think that level of security would be warranted. Clearly, I underestimated his importance. Or perhaps my head was clouded by emotion that night.

  “Lo. Leave it,” my bestie says. “Don’t try to find an explanation where there is none. They’re lying, cheating, murdering bastards who wouldn’t know the truth if it jumped up and bit them.”

  “I know one truth,” Galen says, undressing my bestie with his eyes. “I want to nail your tight pussy with my cock.”