Brutal Boys

by Nora Cobb

  This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Brutal Boys copyright @ 2020 by Nora Cobb and Scholae Palatina Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

  BOOKS IN THE ELITES OF REDWOOD ACADEMY

  CRUEL BOYS

  BRUTAL BOYS

  SAVAGE BOYS

  VICIOUS BOYS

  WICKED BOYS

  The Elites of Redwood Academy series is the SEQUEL to the Montlake Prep Series, a 5-book series that takes place a couple of years before.

  Though Elites of Redwood Academy can be read on its own, it’s more enjoyable to also read the Montlake Prep series before starting this series.

  About Montlake Prep Series

  Following the tragic and unexpected death of her parents, Natalie Page finds herself under the care of her billionaire uncle and enrolls in the prestigious Montlake Prep Academy to finish her senior year of high school.

  But unbeknownst to Natalie, Montlake is unlike any school she’s ever been in. In order to survive, she must both learn the unspoken code of the student body, and navigate through Montlake’s halls ruled by three ruthless kings of campus.

  Read the Montlake Prep Series Today

  FREE on Kindle Unlimited

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  BRUTAL BOYS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  BRUTAL BOYS

  Chapter One

  I feel like someone is staring intently at my back of my head as I walk away from the town house toward campus. I want to be excited about class, but my enthusiasm is dwindling into nothing. Today, I have Video on the Move with Marcy Bowen, who I saw fucking her student, Chase, in the film archives. My stomach turns every time I recall the image of him touching her.

  I shake the chill off me and keep walking to the communications building. Today, my homework is a video of my best friend, Luna. I don’t know what I’m trying to accomplish, but I’m not showing another botany video starring my dad to the class. I don’t like the jokes at his expense. I’d deal if it was just me being torn down. I know how to push that shit deep down until it burns my throat.

  The classroom seats aren’t assigned. It’s first-come, and I’ve never been a head-of-the-class student. I was thrilled to get D grades before coming to Redwood Academy. I sit in the back row and cringe as Marcy walks into the classroom. She’s moving with a confident stride, like she knows more than we all do put together. What a fucking phony. I know that she’s trading sex so she can play with the big boys. This sucks. My whole body deflates while I try to pretend I didn’t see Chase suck on my teacher’s bare tits.

  “Whose project is due today?” Her eyebrows slightly raised, Marcy looks up from her desk as if she doesn’t have a list in front of her. She’s just waiting for her ass to be kissed. Marcy already has someone to do that. She looks over when she hears me scoff.

  “Vicki? Do you have your project ready?”

  My shoulders shudder as I grimace. I pull my body out of my seat as if my bones are limp linguini. And I drag my ass to the front of the class as if the wind is knocking me back. What a slut. I’m not a prude, but I’d rather fuck for love and not for a job.

  “I have a disk,” I reply.

  Marcy smirks as she takes it out of my hands. “Still leery of the cloud?”

  Someone laughs and another person murmurs. I’m about to say something smart and then I freeze. That room where the repulsive video was shot is the same room where I saw Marcy and Chase. Wide-eyed, I hold the disk out as I start to breathe hard, and I wish I knew less than I did.

  Marcy snatches the disk out of my hands and puts it into her laptop. She clicks play and the video is projected onto the large monitor. Slowly, I walk back to my seat. My body shudders as I sit down with a thump.

  Marcy folds her arms and watches the screen as Luna acts out one of Theo’s anime fantasies. It’s a cheesy bit of cinema, but that’s the whole point. I’m trying to learn how to make a good video. We’re in school for fuck’s sake. We’re supposed to be here to learn. If I knew how to make a masterpiece, I wouldn’t have to be in art school.

  The video ends, and Marcy still has her arms folded. “So, class, anyone want to comment?”

  I hate it when teachers do that. I want to hear what they have to say first. I’m paying tuition to have the teacher teach, not to listen to the other students pretend to teach and use as many big words as they can think of to cut my shit down.

  “It’s campy, though I’m not sure if it was meant to be,” says one girl who always sits in the front. “It takes itself too seriously, as if it were trying too hard.”

  Of course, she’s referring to me, not the video. Marcy looks at me as if I should defend myself. I cross my arms over my body and go on the defense.

  “My friends are into anime,” I reply. “And we wanted to have some fun exploring the genre.”

  Another student glares at me. “Do you even know the genre?” He turns to speak to Marcy. “I find that a lot of people jump on the bandwagon before they really understand a genre in hopes of glomming onto something popular,” he scoffs. “But by then the trend is over.”

  I sigh and roll my eyes. Theo could give a class on anime history, but this kid’s assumptions overshadow the fact that I’ve researched the topic.

  “I agree.” Here goes another one with an opinion. “People see something that’s popular, but once the mainstream has gotten ahold of it, it’s banal and a shadow of its first originality.”

  WTF does that babble shit even mean? I don’t even want to talk to these people.

  “Vicki?” Marcy unfolds her arms and talks in a teacher voice. What is this shit? Am I now the truculent child? I catch her being a whore, but somehow I’m the bad one? It wouldn’t be so bad if she just wanted to have sex with Chase. He’s a hot guy, but that’s not why she’s with him.

  For a moment, I stare at her, but I’m not collecting my thoughts into a rebuttal. Of course, Marcy must know that I know her business. I don’t want to know her business. I could not care less. It’s got nothing to do with me. But if she wants to drag me into it? I’ll play with you, bitch.

  “My friends are into anime,” I reply with confidence, “and one doesn’t always have a choice in what they do for a job. So, I wanted to see how well I could take direction from a higher-up instead of making my own choices. In the real world, sometimes we have to kiss ass.”

  The room goes quiet. They all know I’m talking about them. I fold my arms and smirk as I look out the window.

  Marcy clears her throat. “Well, it was an interesting experiment.”

  My gaze flicks over her. She takes the disk out of the laptop and holds it out, expecting me to walk back to the front to get it. What, am I playing fetch?

  “Leave it on the desk,” I tell her. “I’ll get it on the way out.” The tone in my voi
ce conveys no respect without speaking the words.

  We watch a few more videos, which I really don’t get. My projects are grilled like they’re not even F-grade content. Some kid sits in a dark room with a light bulb on a string and films it for fifteen minutes, and he’s praised for his daring vision of a bored dystopia. I have to force my jaw back in place to stop gawking.

  I drift off into my thoughts and think about that disgusting video of phony me giving my phony father head. Where did they even find those people to shoot it, and on school property? I want to put my head on the desk and think about what to do next. I’m here at Redwood, but why?

  List the reasons, Vicki, or you’ll fade away and give up. To learn how to use the equipment. To learn the lingo. To know the correct technical terms. And yeah, I’m still getting bullied, but it’s less hands-on and more cerebral bullshit.

  My hand touches my short hair. I still want to kick the ass of the kid that did this. I’ve saved a lock of my long blonde hair, and decide to grow it out over the summer. And Luna helped me order a wig, just to switch it up.

  “Vicki?” Class is over, and Marcy is holding my disk again.

  Patiently, I walk to the front of the room as the rest of the class walks out the door. I reach for the disk, but she holds it back. My gaze levels on hers.

  “Vicki, I wanted to talk to you about your schoolwork.”

  “What about it?”

  She shrugs her shoulders as if I shouldn’t have to ask. “You seem to have lost interest. The freshness is lacking in your newer projects. Sometimes, a student comes to Redwood and expects a lot. When they don’t get it, they lose interest fast. Do you think that’s happening to you?”

  “No.” I keep it short. Is she playing games or calling me out?

  “I’m the faculty advisor for the film festival,” replies Marcy.

  I narrow my eyes. “Since when?”

  She purses her lips together and glares. “The school requires that each club have a faculty advisor, especially for the festival. Dom Vaughn asked me.”

  “Of course he did,” I sigh.

  “I don’t know what you may think you know.”

  “I don’t know about anything that’s not my business,” I shoot back quickly. “I don’t want your business to be my business.”

  I really don’t want to discuss her love life. My education doesn’t include her love life.

  Marcy holds a finger up to me. “And what business is that?” she asks.

  “Nothing, but I hope you’re getting more than that.” I can’t help but smirk. I grab the disk out of her hand. “I’m going to be late for my next class.” I back away toward the door. “Thanks for the pep talk. Let me know when you need one, because you will.”

  I take off fast.

  ***

  Nothing moves as I approach the town house. The curtains don’t flicker, and no shadows duck behind doors or move quickly into doorways. I’m paranoid worse than at the height of my drug days. Exhaling, I climb the steps up to the second level and stop on the landing leading onto the hallway. The Australian guy who was into Theo is making out with Rosemonde in front of Silas’s door. They’re into it, with hands all over the place and making a lot of noise. Too much noise.

  “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

  Well, the lady is layering it on thick. I’ve made out, but it never sounds like I’m performing CPR on a whale. I don’t care if this pair notices me. All I care about is getting through my door and shutting them out. I maneuver around them, not caring if my book bag brushes against them, and mutter, “Excuse me.”

  Rosemonde laughs as if I’ve made a joke. Why is she making out with Rhys in front of Silas’s door, and why should I care? I care about Theo, and I’m glad he isn’t with me. I hated Rosemonde from the start, with her stuck-up attitude. Sometimes, even more than the boys. They have talent, looks, and money. But what does she have other than a phony accent? The hangers-on are worse than the originals.

  “Hello, Victoria,” she purrs like we’re on speaking terms. “Where’s your friend?”

  I eye her, and Rhys smiles at me.

  “Let’s ask Silas.” I stride over toward his door and they jerk their heads away as I bang hard on the wooden door. Rhys frowns, but Rosemonde looks pleased that I want a scene.

  “He’s not available,” replies Rhys. He pulls Rosemonde back into his arms and kisses her.

  Now I really don’t get it. Or maybe I should figure it out.

  I walk back to my door and silent curse my luck as I dig for my keycard. Rhys pins Rosemonde against the door as she moans and wraps a leg around his waist. She whispers his name as he buries his head against her outstretched neck. If all they’re doing is pissing me off, it’s working. I pull my debit card out of my purse, and I’m pissed it’s the same color as my keycard.

  I hear laughter downstairs, and cold chills race over my skin despite the heat. This will be the end of all of us if Theo sees what’s happening. I choke before I can think to race toward the stairs and stop him. And instantly, it’s too late. Luna and Theo stop when they see what I’ve been ignoring for the past three minutes.

  Fuck. I find the card and open the door. Luna grabs Theo’s hand and pulls him through the open doorway into our suite. I quickly follow and slam the door shut as Rosemonde lets out a peal of laughter followed by a deep, shuddering sigh. That jerkoff.

  Theo stands frozen inside the living room as Luna looks at me and I stare back at her. Theo’s been too far down, and he knew the gossip. But to see it? As we watch, his body softens into a heap and collapses onto the floor.

  “Theo!” Luna shouts and grabs him to keep his head from slamming on the floor. Breathing in gasps, he’s sprawled out as if his body was flung across the room. Luna struggles to keep him up. For a moment, I’m pulled deep into my memories of seeing someone else passed out on a white-tiled floor. Struck dumb, Theo’s despair provokes no emotion or reaction in me, not when I used to see it every day. I’m not sure how to act, so I do what I’ve done before. I step out of the way until I’m flat against the wall.

  Luna’s eyes flash, and she shouts, “Help me with him, Vicki! He’s deadweight. Get a pillow!” she shouts.

  It’s like I’ve forgotten that I live here. Searching, I turn in a circle, then grab a cushion off the couch, a whole seat cushion, and drag it over. Luna frowns at the chunky thing and works it under Theo’s head and torso as I try to pull him up. He lies across it, stretched out like a wet rag over a railing. I’ve never seen anyone take a breakup so hard.

  Luna must have read my mind. “Rhys was his first,” she mouths and strokes Theo’s tangled curls.

  My reasoning starts to work through what just happened. I didn’t act the way I would’ve wanted in a bad situation. What would I do if Silas, or even Chase, challenged me? Would I panic, or worse, freeze, and watch as they do whatever they want? I knew what I was walking into when I saw Marcy in the classroom, but I won’t always have fair warning.

  The industry doesn’t forgive easily, nor does it forget. Celebrity mug shots fill search results like a high school yearbook. One lame move and I’ll be saddled with a reputation for being a coward. I can’t have that.

  “I’ll be right back,” I bite out before Luna can ask where I’m going. I hurry out of the suite and this time, pound on Silas’s door. Rosemonde and Rhys are no longer in the hallway. Maybe they decided they needed more privacy. Well, I don’t want to give it to them. I’ll tell them they better not pull that shit again.

  I bang harder. My body is shaking. I’m ready to leap on anybody and tear them apart. I’m feeling completely alpha. I’ll tell them off so bad, they’ll run the next time they see me. The door flies open, and I almost swallow my tongue. Silas stands in the doorway, wearing only a towel.

  He frowns at me as water runs from his wet hair over his skin. I lose my cool and gape at his bare chest. I’ll admit it, he’s built. I may hate him, but the bastard has muscles that pop. He smirks down
at me, and my cool comes flooding back into my attitude. I can’t be thrown by the moment; I have to watch my own back.

  “You were home?” I ask. “Why didn’t you answer the door?”

  “I was busy in the shower.” His smirk morphs into a dirty smile.

  Duh, Vicki. Focus your anger. “Your friends need to be cool. They can’t make out in the hallway.”

  He laughs. “Never thought you were a prude. Not with your reputation.”

  My eyes narrow on his. “You know that’s fucked-up gossip. Look, be decent and tell your whatever-that-girl-is-to-you to keep it out of the hall.”

  “What do you think that girl is to me, Victoria?”

  My hot blood chills and I have to center myself before I fucking tell Silas off. If I tell him not to call me Victoria, he’ll do it even more. I wasn’t Vicki in rehab. They only called us by our proper names.