Twisted Elites: A Dark Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Bully Boys of Brittas Academy Book 3)

by Sofia Daniel

  Twisted Elites

  Bully Boys of Brittas Academy Book 3

  Sofia Daniel

  Copyright © 2019 by Sofia Daniel.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  www.SofiaDaniel.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  From Sofia Daniel

  Chapter 1

  If I hadn’t wedged my back against the wall of Prakash’s bedroom, I might have fallen onto my ass. My knees had stopped supporting my weight, and my breathing had stopped the moment the police sergeant placed my boyfriend under arrest.

  A male constable positioned Prakash’s arms behind his back and fastened cuffs around his wrists, as though he was a dangerous criminal who needed restraining. Throughout this, Prakash’s dull, black eyes remained on mine. His posture slackened, as though he had resigned himself to this fate.

  “The cuffs aren’t necessary.” Leopold stepped between the officers and me, obscuring my view. He stood half a head taller than the sergeant and with a broader, more menacing physique. “Mr. Kashaayah is more than capable of walking quietly to your vehicle.”

  I blinked myself back to awareness and inhaled a deep breath.

  He didn’t do it.

  Prakash wouldn’t have beaten Ashley half to death.

  A tiny voice in the back of my head—Dad’s, I think—asked me how much I knew this boy. I didn’t engage with it. Didn’t tell it that my confidence in Prakash was based on a gut feeling and on memories that were barely coming together.

  As Leopold continued his attempts to negotiate with the sergeant, the sounds of two female voices somewhere on my left caught my attention. The door opened, revealing two male officers barring the entrance of the room and holding back a crowd of students. They parted to let in a pair of female paramedics.

  “She’s unconscious but still breathing.” One of the officers backed away, and the paramedics crowded around Ashley on the bed.

  A sigh of relief escaped my nostrils, but the first tendrils of guilt snaked around my windpipe. Mom would hate me for being more concerned about Prakash than about Ashley.

  While the paramedics covered her naked body with a blanket, a police officer pushed Leopold aside to let his colleagues escort Prakash to the doorway.

  “Wait!” I rushed after them.

  Leopold placed a large hand on my shoulder. “Follow Ashley to the hospital. When she’s conscious, you’ll need her to clear Kash’s name.”

  I turned around. Sorrow radiated from his concerned, aquamarine eyes, making me wonder if something like this had happened when Corrine Gibbons had accused the kings of rape. “But I should be there when Prak—”

  “I’ll follow the police in the jeep.”

  I gave Leopold a sharp nod and sent Prakash a silent apology, hoping he didn’t think I’d abandoned him. Hoping he didn’t think I believed him guilty.

  Because I didn’t.

  Even though I couldn’t yet explain how Ashley had ended up on his bed bruised and bloody and beaten.

  The door opened, and the crowd parted to let out Prakash and the sergeant. Leopold followed after them, and then a male paramedic wheeled a stretcher into the room.

  “Ashley,” one of the women said in a loud voice. “You’re in safe hands. We’re going to move you to the ambulance and take you to the hospital, where you’ll be seen by a doctor.”

  The two women crossed her arms and ankles and turned her onto her side, revealing a mass of livid, red bruises over the entire back of her body.

  I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp. Who could have wanted to inflict that much damage on Ashley?

  They slipped a board under her torso and hips, lined up the stretcher to Prakash’s bed, and pulled Ashley, board and all, onto the stretcher.

  I slumped forward, rested my hands on my knees, and gulped mouthfuls of air. What kind of monster did that to a girl who couldn’t fight back?

  As they wheeled her to the door, I grabbed the phone on the desk and said, “She’s my sister. I have to go with her.”

  As soon as we stepped into the hallway, a riot of gasps and cries and tear-filled moans filled the air. News had traveled throughout the school because students of all ages lined the walls. Mr. Blunt stood in the middle of the space with his hands clasped, and he led the paramedics through the gangway of students like the leader of a funeral procession. I trailed behind them like the chief mourner.

  The caretaker led the paramedics into an empty utility room that smelled vaguely of garbage. A large sink stood at one wall and a goods elevator on the other. He pulled the metal scissor gate open and let them wheel Ashley into the wooden interior.

  As we traveled down in silence, I stared into Ashely’s discolored, swollen face. Someone out there must have hurt her and planted her unconscious body in Prakash’s room. It was the only explanation.

  “How did you find your sister in this state?” asked a policeman in a conversational tone.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if he thought I’d battered Ashley because I wasn’t more distraught about her injuries. No matter how much she infuriated me, I would never wish something so heinous on her or anyone.

  In a numb voice, I told him a sanitized version of the day’s events. That I had gone to Cummersdale with Leopold to pick up a few things from the cottage and had returned when Prakash had called, panicked and afraid. I couldn’t tell them that we’d been searching for items Ashley had claimed would prove that Prakash killed Corrine Gibbons.

  When the elevator reached the bottom floor, someone opened the door, letting in a gust of cool, fresh air from huge, wooden doors at the end of another utility room.

  The officer motioned for me to let the paramedics go first. “I remember Mr. Kashaayah from another incident last year.”

  An iron fist of dread clenched at my insides. “Wh-which incident?”

  “Where’s his friend, the one from Garraway Tea?”

  I stepped out of the elevator, clutching myself around the middle. Sebastian was supposed to search the maids’ quarters with Prakash, but somewhere during their search, they had separated.

  Where was Sebastian during all this? He and Prakash were supposed to work in pairs.

  Panic rippled through my insides. What if the person who had attacked Ashley had also attacked Sebastian?

  Thankfully, the enclosed space of the ambulance meant that I didn’t have to watch the vehicle negotiate the bends and curves of Hard Knott Pass. It still took nearly two hours to reach the hospital, and throughout the journey, the policeman and paramedics barraged me with questions about Ashley.

&
nbsp; At the Royal Infirmary, they whisked her into a receiving area and then into the Resuscitation Unit. I was about to follow, but a nurse directed me to a waiting room.

  Sweat broke out across my brow, and I asked, “Did she stop breathing?”

  “Someone will update you soon.” The nurse hurried back toward the receiving area, leaving me gaping at her in the hallway.

  Running a trembling hand over my face, I walked into a waiting room lined with plastic chairs, separated by a water cooler and coffee table full of dog-eared magazines. A man slumped in a corner seat and sobbed into his lap.

  I took the chair closest to the door and pulled out the phone I’d taken from Prakash’s room. There was no service and no hospital WIFI, so I slumped in the plastic chair and stared at my fingers.

  Had Ashley only targeted the kings and me, or had her maid job been part of a larger revenge plan? If so, she had probably pissed off the wrong person, but who?

  Dad’s voice echoed in my skull, asking if I was blinded by lust since the answer was obvious.

  I shook my head. Just because Ashley had blackmailed Prakash with evidence that linked him to the death of Corrine Gibbons, and just because her broken, battered, and bruised body was in his room, that didn’t mean he had perpetrated the assault.

  My posture sagged. Now, I sounded like an idiot.

  The door opened, and a male nurse poked his head inside. “Are you Ashley Evergreen’s sister?”

  I gulped. “Yes?”

  “The doctor wishes to ask you questions.”

  I jumped out of my seat and followed him down the hallway to a room with one bed. A male doctor with salt and pepper hair stood to his back to me, typing something into a computer. Ashley lay under the covers of the hospital bed, her thin body barely making a bulge, and her face an even darker mass of bruises.

  My stomach plummeted, and my heart galloped a frantic beat in my chest. Would the doctor tell me she’d suffered terrible head injuries? Dad told me boxers had them all the time.

  The doctor glanced at me over his shoulder. “Willow Evergreen?”

  “Y-yes?”

  “Could your sister be under the influence of drugs?”

  I licked my dry lips. “She used to take ecstasy during raves, and some friends of hers smoked cannabis from bongs.”

  He turned back to the computer. “Anything else?”

  Anything was possible with Ashley. She was close to drug-dealing scumbags like DJ Bones, but she had never opened up to me about anything else he might have supplied her.

  “I’m…” I coughed to relieve my dry throat. “I’m not sure. Will she be alright?”

  “I’ve scheduled scans for Ashley in the morning,” replied the doctor. “Once those results have come through, we should be able to get a better picture.” The dismissal in his tone told me the conversation was over.

  I retreated to the other end of the room and wedged myself in the corner. A healthcare assistant took pity on me and brought in a plastic chair. I lowered myself into the seat, and after the doctor and his entourage left, I sent Leopold a text.

  Me: What’s happening?

  Leopold: Benazir went in with Kash.

  Me: Why?

  Leopold: He’s under 18 and needs a guardian.

  Right. It wasn’t like the boys could call his parents in India. The headmistress was probably the most suitable proxy in the country.

  Leopold: Is Ashley conscious yet?

  Me: No. Have you heard from Seb?

  Leopold: He hasn’t replied to my texts.

  Nausea rippled through my insides. If Sebastian lay unconscious somewhere in the academy, they would have found him by now. I gulped. What if whoever had attacked Ashley had thrown him into a cave, like the one by the split oak?

  Images of a dark figure with long, flowing hair, and a monstrously pale face flashed to the forefront of my mind. I was running through the slippery, stony ground, trying to escape. I shook off what was clearly the remnants of a nightmare and focussed on Ashley.

  Her breaths rasped through a split lip, and I shook my head. The number of times I wanted to punch her in her smug face, and something like this happened.

  Not even heavyweight boxers looked this bad after their fights. Dad used to watch cage fights on youtube, but even the losers of those matches didn’t look as bad as Ashley. It was almost as though a crowd of thugs attacked her with no mercy.

  The door opened, and Uncle Trevor burst through. His rumpled clothes hung off his body as though he’d shoved them on in a hurry. “Willow, what’s going on?”

  I stood. “We found Ashley like this in a boy’s bedroom.”

  His hazel eyes bulged. “Whose?”

  “He didn’t do it.”

  “How could you know that?” Uncle ran up to the foot of Ashley’s bed and clutched the metal rails so hard, his knuckles went as white as his face.

  “Someone framed him. Ashley had a lot of enemies, and—”

  “Who is this boy?” He whirled on me. “A friend of yours?”

  I nodded. “His name is Prakash. And he’s the one who went looking for me that night I was left drunk and assaulted on the mountain.”

  Uncle Trevor ran a hand over his mouth. “What makes you think he didn’t do it?”

  “Whoever hurt Ashley was a monster.” I gestured at her swollen face. “They would have hit her over and over to make her look like that. It’s not the work of someone so kind-hearted.”

  “Help!” whispered a small voice.

  Uncle Trevor rushed to the head of her bed. “A-Ashley, what happened to you?”

  I bolted out of the room, where the doctor stood in the hallway, chatting with a pair of nurses. “Excuse me!” All three of them turned around. “My sister’s awake.”

  The doctor followed me to the room and pulled a penlight from his pocket. “Excuse me.”

  Uncle Trevor stepped aside and let the doctor shine a light in her eyes. “My name is Dr. Nash, and you’re in Cumberland Royal Infirmary. You’ve suffered a terrible assault, but we’re here to take care of you.”

  I clasped my hands to my reverberating chest and backed against the wall, while the nurses entered the room and crowded around the doctor. My throat dried. I swallowed hard and strained to listen to her whispered words.

  “I want to talk to the police,” she rasped.

  “Who did this, Ashley?” The words spilled from my lips.

  Ashley fixed me with a glower that looked monstrous through her swollen features. “Get out.”

  My eyes bulged. “What?”

  “Out!” she shouted through a hoarse voice.

  The doctor and Uncle Trevor turned and fixed me with near-identical impatient stares. My back straightened. All they saw was a damsel who urgently needed help and me as the person hindering it.

  With a sigh, I walked out of the room and waited in the hallway. Eventually, Uncle Trevor would tell me what happened to her.

  Several minutes passed. Nurses, healthcare assistants, and even the tea lady went in and out of Ashley’s room. The doctor left but didn’t give me any information. I waited on a bench by the ward’s reception desk, bouncing my knee like an addict desperate for their next fix. If Ashley didn’t clear Prakash, he might spend the night in jail.

  Two police officers arrived through the accident and emergency ward’s double doors. A large woman with shorn, blonde hair, and a smaller man with a neat beard.

  I leaped off my seat. “Are you here to take Ashley Evergreen’s statement?”

  “Yes,” replied the man. “Are you a friend or relative?”

  “Sister.”

  The policewoman glanced down at her notebook and opened the door to Ashley’s room. “You’d better come in, then.”

  Ashley rested in the hospital bed, which was arranged with her back raised. Dried blood no longer caked her face, revealing patches of pale skin that made her bruises stand out.

  The female police officer glanced at her notebook. “Ashley,” she said in
a gentle tone. “My name is WPC Stanley, and I’m here to take your statement. Do you remember what happened?”

  Ashley gave a slight nod. “I passed out halfway when he punched me so hard, my head hit the wall.”

  “That’s alright,” Constable Stanley said in a soft voice. “Just tell us what you can.”

  Ashley’s hazel eyes darted across the room to where I stood. “She can’t be here.”

  The policewoman turned around. “Your sister?”

  “Tell her to get out.”

  I clenched my teeth. What the fuck was Ashley doing?

  “Miss Evergreen,” said the policewoman. “Could you please wait outside while we take your sister’s statement?”

  “But—”

  “Come on.” The short male advanced toward me.

  I tried to keep the venom out of my gaze. “Are you sure about this? I can tell Mrs. Benazir and get the attacker expelled.”

  Her swollen face twisted with anguish, and dry sobs heaved from her chest, reminding me of how she used to fake tears when we were little. “G-get out!”

  Shoulders sagging, I turned and walked to the door. Something about this situation didn’t seem right. The worst part about it was that her refusal to have me in the room made it look like I scared her.

  The policeman followed me out of the room and stood at the door, guarding the entrance as if he thought I was responsible for Ashley’s wounds. As if I would hulk out and rush through those doors to finish the job I had started.

  I blew out a frustrated breath. There was no point in sticking around. That time the knights had tormented her in the snow, she had implied to the police that I was making up the complaint to get attention.

  Turning on my heel, I pulled the smartphone out of my pocket and made my way to the exit. Leopold would tell me where to find Prakash.