Bury Me (Willow Heights Prep Academy: The Elite Book 3)

by Selena

  Bury Me

  Willow Heights Preparatory Academy: The Elite

  Book Three

  Selena

  Bury Me

  Copyright © 2020 Selena

  Unabridged First Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the publisher, except in cases of a reviewer quoting brief passages in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, and events are entirely coincidental. Use of any copyrighted, trademarked, or brand names in this work of fiction does not imply endorsement of that brand.

  Published in the United States by Selena and Speak Now.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-945780-88-2

  Cover © Marisa Rose of Cover Me Darlings

  Table of Contents

  blurb

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  eight

  nine

  ten

  eleven

  twelve

  thirteen

  fourteen

  fifteen

  sixteen

  seventeen

  eighteen

  nineteen

  twenty

  twenty-one

  twenty-two

  twenty-three

  twenty-four

  twenty-five

  twenty-six

  twenty-seven

  twenty-eight

  twenty-nine

  epilogue

  author’s note

  Mafia Princess (blurb)

  Bad Apple (blurb)

  A note on pre-order dates

  blurb

  An eye for an eye. A heart for a heart.

  The war should be over. I got what I wanted. I should be happy.

  But nothing is as it should be. My brothers made the team, but they still want more. They don't rule the halls of Willow Heights, and they won't stop until they do. My father won't stop until he rules the town, even though my brother is unraveling and rumors about what really happened in that locker room have damaged my name.

  In the midst of it all, the boy who tormented me becomes the one person I can trust. But when lies are exposed and the truth is revealed, it leaves me wondering which side I'm really on. How much will I sacrifice for my family? For my heart?

  The battle lines are drawn between the Darlings and the Dolces, and even when the victor emerges, no one will be left unscathed.

  Trigger Warning

  Like most bully romances, this book contains dark themes and subjects that may be uncomfortable for some. To avoid spoilers, I cannot list every specific instance. Only you know your limits. If you’re a sensitive reader, this series may not be for you. Please read responsibly.

  one

  Crystal

  It’s time to go back to school. Time to stop hiding. Time to make the power grab that all this was leading to. But I no longer care. When I look at the perfectly made up face of the girl in my mirror, I see a stranger. No, not a stranger. A doll. She’s beautiful, but she isn’t real. She’s hollow, while the real Crystal is full, bursting with emotions, with chaos, with pain. The real Crystal is a broken mess, bruised flesh and broken bones jutting from torn skin, all hot blood and solid meatiness. This girl in the mirror? She’s so unsubstantial she floats. An illusion that could be whisked away by one stiff breeze.

  A tap on my door brings me back to reality. I slip my phone into my bag and stand from the stool in front of my vanity. One last look in the mirror shows me what I’ve already seen, the girl who is all put together, who looks like a life-sized cutout of me.

  “Crys, you ready?”

  It’s King’s voice. My brother, my protector, my keeper. He sounds like this is any other day. Like it’s not the day when they get everything they’ve wanted. The day when the Darlings’ throne begins to crumble.

  “Coming.” My voice is normal, too. Everything is normal outside of me.

  But I look at my window before I go. I left it unlocked. Some sick, terrible part of me thought he’d come. Maybe even wanted him to come. But he didn’t.

  “We’re going to be late,” Duke yells, thudding a fist against my door.

  “Calm your tits,” I say, pulling open the door.

  All four of my brothers stand in the hall. I wait as they look me over, making sure I meet their approval. Apparently, I do. We all head down and pile into Royal’s Range Rover, though King takes the wheel. It’s so normal, and yet, nothing feels right anymore.

  “I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when we walk in today,” Duke says, laying an arm over my shoulders. “You did him so good, sis. Like a savage.”

  I nod numbly. I pray for Royal to turn around, like he used to, to let me lose myself in his coffee eyes, to tell me it’s okay. But his face stays turned to the window as we drive.

  “We’re on the team,” King says. “As soon as your ribs heal, Royal, you’ll be good to go. Don’t worry. We’ll make sure Devlin’s off the team. You’re my QB1. Always.”

  He holds out a hand, and Royal turns to give him knuckles.

  We’re almost there. Ready to take our spot at the top. Preston is injured and will be out for the rest of the season. It’s already November, so there’s no way he’ll have healed by the time football is over. Devlin confessed to kidnap and imprisonment of a minor. He’ll probably get out of the charges, but it’s enough to get him suspended from the team, I’m sure. This town is all about image. They won’t want a guy like him representing them.

  Which leaves Colt. I may not know him as well as I know Devlin, but he’s not a leader. He just wants to have fun and live his life. He craves the spotlight and enjoys the benefits of being at the top. But if it’s him against my four brothers, he won’t fight. He’s not stupid. He’ll know when he’s defeated.

  “What about you, Crystal?” King asks, looking at me in the rearview mirror. “When’s that cheer tryout?”

  “I missed it,” I admit. It was last Friday, when I didn’t go to school.

  “That’s okay,” Baron says, giving my knee a quick squeeze. “Coach Snow will understand.”

  “Make it for this Friday,” King says. “You can cheer for us at the game.”

  I nod, not bothering to argue. Sometimes, you have to choose your battles, and this one isn’t worth fighting.

  We pull up to the school. The first parking spot, the one the boys fought over for the past month, is empty. King parks the Rover, and we all climb out. I can’t help but feel jumpy and edgy being back at Willow Heights. The last time I was here, I was searching for Royal, terrified that I’d find him dead in the office of the Midnight Swans, some fucked up secret society Devlin’s family belongs to.

  I reach for my twin’s hand, but he draws away. It’s not a blatant rejection, just a slight turn, a move so subtle I might miss it if I didn’t know my brother so well.

  “Are you okay?” I murmur to him. But of course he’s not okay. The parking lot has fallen silent, and everyone is staring at us. Everyone is watching.

  I can’t help but wonder if the Darlings are about to show up and throw down. It seems so quiet without Devlin’s car here, without the Darling cousins sitting on it, lording their status over the school before anyone even steps through the doors.

  “Let’s go,” Roya
l says, his shoulders square and broad, his head held high. I’m not the only one who puts on a fake face every day.

  We fall into formation next to King, but it’s all wrong. I cling to my twin, which leaves the younger twins to fall onto his other side.

  “What’s wrong?” I hiss at Royal. “Are you just upset about being back here, or are you mad at me?”

  I know it’s selfish to even ask that question, but he’s been freezing me out all week. He talked to everyone but me.

  For a minute, I don’t think he’s going to answer. But just as we reach the wide doors with the school motto engraved above, he pauses. “You fucked him,” he says under his breath. “While I was in there, dead for all you knew, you were fucking the guy who did that to me. Am I just supposed to forget that?”

  I feel like he just slapped me. He’s right—that’s exactly what I did. But I thought I’d atoned for that. I gave up Devlin for him. To prove to him that I was a Dolce, that I wasn’t a traitor.

  But he still thinks I am one.

  “I was trying to save you,” I say, tears springing to my eyes. “I had to.”

  He stares at me hard, his dark gaze shadowing mine. “You didn’t have to like it.”

  Without waiting for an answer, he shoves open the doors and strides in, letting the doors swing closed in my face.

  I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. But how do I steady myself when my rock is gone? The earthquake that’s shaken all our lives has broken a fault line between us, and I don’t know if I will ever cross it, if we’ll ever be on the same side again. It’s all I can do not to collapse onto the stairs and sob.

  Dolce daughters don’t make public spectacles of themselves, though. Instead, I hold my head just as high as my brother’s, and I let Baron link his arm through mine and escort me into the school like a patrol officer. And I keep on pretending, just like I have for the past year, that everything is fine. That the world isn’t crumbling to ruins around me. That everything is sugarcoated perfection in my little candy-colored world.

  I’m relieved when Devlin doesn’t show up first period. Of course, he’s apparently been in jail for a week, so he probably needs time at home. But Colt strolls into sophomore English like he owns the place, as usual. Our eyes meet, and he smirks. I tense, my heart stammering in my chest. This is it. He’s going to cut me down, or issue some new decree, or declare open season on me. I’m the Darling Dog, after all. I know I got lucky in that locker room, that Devlin saved me. Yes, we had an audience I’d rather not have had, but he protected me from them. Without him here… Without his protection from the things his cousins could do to me…

  Even though class hasn’t started, and the teacher isn’t even in the room yet, the voices in the room die in an instant when Colt strolls in. Not a whisper breaks the dead silence of the classroom, as if they’re taking the ACT that will determine their future instead of watching some high school drama unfold.

  Colt’s gait is slow and lazy as he moves toward me. I know better than to think there’s anything else slow about this boy. I sit up straight, schooling my face into a blank slate even though adrenaline has turned my limbs to mush. He stops in front of my desk. My gaze meets his laughing blue eyes, the ones that crinkle at the corners, hiding the alertness that never leaves them beneath heavy lids. He’s not smiling now, though. Not much. Just a little twist at the corner of his lip, a hint of a crooked smile. Then, he reaches out a fist to me.

  I stare at it.

  He raises his brows, waiting.

  I know Colt’s game. I know I have to do what he wants, or he’ll make it a spectacle. I reach forward and gently bump my fist against his, expecting him to pop me in the face when I let my guard down.

  But he just grins and drops into the seat next to mine. Other kids start whispering, still watching. I turn to Colt.

  “So, what’s next?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “Nothing.”

  “But I—.” I break off. I won’t say what I did to Devlin. Not in front of the class.

  I may not be able to be with him, but I can’t pretend I don’t care. Not to myself. I owe myself the truth.

  “And no more Darling Dog for this one,” Colt says to the class, laying an arm around my shoulder. “That honor went back to your friend Winn-Dixie this morning. Some girls are just born to be dogs. And some…” He trails off, his eyes moving over my face, down my white buttoned blouse and my navy skirt and pumps.

  “Go on,” I say, raising my chin and meeting his eyes. At this point, it seems silly that some unsubstantial words have ever been able to cut through my armor.

  Colt sits back in his seat and grins, moving his arm to the back of my seat. “You can put dog ears and a collar and a leash on a tigress, but she still ain’t a dog.”

  And then I remember how much power words can have. I remember because I used them for evil, and they almost took someone’s life. I remember, because with one little sentence, Colt has set me free. I’m not the Darling Dog anymore. Now, it’s my turn to use my voice to stand up for Dixie.

  “What are you saying, man?” asks Shaun, a guy in several of my classes. But I remember him all too well from situations outside the classroom. Shaun ate dogfood in the hall. At the party where Devlin led me around on a leash, Shaun groped me, and I slapped the shit out of him. And later, Shaun tried to grab me again when Devlin wasn’t there to protect me, to keep the others at bay. He doesn’t play football, and he’s not in their crowd, but he’s a hanger-on. He’s not good enough for the Darlings, but he’s good enough for some of their frustrated fangirls, just annoying enough to get their attention on occasion.

  “I’m saying,” Colt drawls. “That Crystal’s not the Darling Dog. She never was.”

  “Is she a Doll?” Lacey asks, twisting around in her seat and shooting me a resentful glare. She was stripped of her Doll title because of me, and she obviously hasn’t forgotten it.

  “Nope,” Colt says.

  “Neither are you,” I say to Lacey, tense with anger. I’m so sick of this catty little bitch and her underhanded comments. She huffs and turns away.

  “Alright,” Shaun says with a grin. “If she never was the Dog, then she’s fair game.”

  “I’m also right fucking here,” I grit out.

  “Yes, you are,” he says, giving me an appreciate once-over.

  “She took the whole football team at once, dude,” mutters another guy, snickering. “Better nail a two-by-four to your ass so you don’t fall in.”

  “Yeah,” I say, giving him a demure smile. “I’m sure a little boy like you isn’t big enough to satisfy me.”

  Colt grins and slides his arm around my shoulder again. “Oh, Sweetie, guys like Shaun don’t care about satisfying you.”

  Shaun’s friend starts slugging his shoulder and ragging on him, and Lacey giggles and turns to her friend, both of them whispering and glancing at me so obviously that I have to roll my eyes. I’m grateful for Colt deflecting the attention, but I can’t stop dwelling on what Shaun said.

  So, there it is. The rumor I knew was coming. It’s just what I expected, but it still makes my stomach sour. If there’s one thing I know, it’s how rumors catch fire and spread, starting with a seed of truth or a lie and then raging out of control, getting bigger until they swallow a person’s whole reputation.

  I shouldn’t care. I know the truth. But as the snickers and the looks, half of them disgusted and the other half thirsty, follow me for the rest of the day, I can’t help but feel it, even when I walk with my head held high like I don’t feel a thing. I’m strong, but I’m not impenetrable. I may have armor, but it cracks with every blow, with every snicker and dirty look, with every whistle a football player lets out as I walk by.

  By the end of the day, I’m planning how to convince my mother to take me back to New York with her. Yes, I had my problems there. Every day I fought the demons that whispered in my ears that I’d been found out, that everyone knew I was a fraud. My brothers may have been roya
lty, but I no longer felt like their Dolce Princess. When people found out, they began to fight for my throne. They wanted to take me down. Half of being queen is believing you are, after all. Believing you deserve it. I spent my last semester there falling. Falling from grace. Tumbling from my throne.

  Here, I had a chance to start from nothing. I was excited to try again. I thought I’d do it right, that I could be just another pretty face in the halls, no one special. And that’s what Colt did for me this morning, stripping my titles like Devlin stripped Lacey’s. But I’m not a no one. I’m the girl who let the team run a train on her. I’m a girl they’ve seen led around on a leash like a dog, a girl they’ve groped and watched a live show of in the locker room. They’ve seen me naked. I can’t be a nobody any more than I could the first day I walked through those doors.

  I’d rather go back to New York. I’d rather run away, just like my parents do, than face this. I’d rather go back to Manhattan without my brothers’ protection, fight my way through the next two and a half years as the girl who bullied someone to near death than be what I am here. I hate this school. I hate walking these halls where the ghosts of my trauma wait around every corner. I hate the terror that grips me when I have to walk into lunch in the same cafeteria where my attacker sits, a girl on his lap and his friends around him like he’s a monarch, not a monster.

  When we get home that afternoon, the house stands big and silent. After having all the uncles and cousins and grandparents around, it’s eerily quiet and still.

  “Mom?” I ask, moving from the back hallway where we entered into the dining room. I wander into the kitchen, then upstairs to the guest room where Mom’s been staying. The bed is made up tight, the room looking as barren as the rest of the house. I step inside, my heart hammering. Mom does not make her own bed. She leaves it a tangle of sheets, with shoes toppled under the bed and dresses flung over chairs. But this room—this room is empty. I can feel the absence in it, and I know better than to hope the new maid fixed it for Mom while she was downstairs.