Dirty Wicked Prince: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Court Legacy Book 1)

by Eden O'Neill

The officer was talking to my father, my dad’s hands in his pockets. Brielle was holding my mom with Ramses right beside them.

  The familiarity of it all twisted sickness into my stomach.

  The last time I’d seen my parents like this…

  “Mom?”

  Our parents and the cop saw us when I called for Mom. They must have not heard us come in.

  Mom immediately went to me. She immediately placed me in her arms, and Brielle did the same with Wolf.

  “Oh, God,” my mom gasped in my ear, shaking the fuck to hell. “Baby. My love…”

  “Mom.” I gripped her shirt, staring at my dad over her shoulder.

  He was more than tense.

  In fact, he appeared to be having a hard time keeping eye contact with me.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, those words familiar too. The difference was it’d been Charlie to say them.

  Where’s Charlie?

  He should have been home by now. He promised he’d be here by dinner, and he always kept a promise.

  “Where’s Charlie?” My immediate next question. I pulled away from my mother. “Mom, where’s Charlie? He said he’d be here for dinner. He came home early—”

  “Son.” My dad cut me off, coming forward. He lifted a hand. “Son, there was an accident.”

  “An accident?”

  At this point, my mom started to cry. Like full-on sobbing in the kitchen. She immediately left the room, and my dad started to go after her.

  “Royal, I got it,” Ramses stepped in, my mom’s best friend. My mom and Ares’s dad had been best friends since high school. He touched Brielle’s shoulder. “Honey, Ares?”

  Immediately, Brielle took Wolf off to the side, and I had no idea where they were going.

  I was too busy freaking the fuck out.

  I was shaking and my dad had to physically take me out of the goddamn room. When we ended up in the hallway, I struggled away.

  “What are you talking about an accident?” I shot, louder than I should toward my father. “I just saw Charlie. Charlie’s fine.”

  “But that’s what I’m saying. He’s not, Dorian.” He tugged me over. “Listen to me—”

  “I just saw him, Dad,” I croaked. “Dad, I just saw him.”

  Dad placed cautious hands on my shoulders, and from somewhere I could hear my mom still, my god dad’s whispers. Ramses was telling her it would be okay.

  Why was he telling her that?

  They were both acting like someone died. They were…

  “Dad, where’s Charlie?” If he was at the hospital or something… If there was an accident, we should be there, not here. “Dad…”

  “He was jogging, son,” Dad said, and at this point, the officer left the room. He tipped his hat at my father before he left, the door clicking closed behind him. Dad faced me. “You know how he liked to jog in the high hills.”

  I did, but that had always been the excuse. Charlie used to use that as an excuse to go over and see Principal Mayberry behind Coach’s back.

  I knew because I always covered for him at home.

  “He was in that neighborhood tonight, and he heard something. Screaming.” Dad rubbed his mouth, his words and expression pained. “He was passing by Principal Mayberry’s house, and he heard some shouting. Elevated voices.”

  My breath left me, thoughts completely escaping me.

  “Apparently, there was an altercation between her and her husband, Coach Mayberry,” Dad continued. “And according to the officer, things got aggressive. He hit her.”

  He hit her.

  “Charlie heard the screaming from the street, and he broke in.”

  I faced him, the color completely drained from his face.

  “Coach was armed.”

  Armed.

  My lips parted. “Dad…”

  Dad shook his head. “According to Elaine Mayberry, her husband believed Charlie to be an intruder. He shot on instinct.” Dad’s voice thickened, pained. “He shot, Dorian, and Charlie didn’t make it. He passed away at the scene.”

  No…

  No.

  I didn’t believe it, backing away.

  “Dorian.”

  “No.” I raised my hand. “It’s not true. I just saw Charlie, Dad. I just saw him.”

  “But it is true, son.” Dad’s voice boomed in the room, his face entirely red. Dad didn’t lose his composure. He was completely in control always.

  But this shook him.

  It had to have shaken him at his core because he even placed a hand on the kitchen island to stabilize himself.

  “The man was clearly troubled,” Dad stated, his jaw tense. “Because after he saw what he did, that it was Charlie and not an intruder, he turned the gun on himself. Blew himself away right in front of his wife.”

  I couldn’t hear this. I didn’t believe this.

  It was bullshit.

  I refused to believe it and left the room.

  “Dorian—”

  I ignored my father, taking my keys. I got into my car and drove all the way to the high hills.

  I was there in moments.

  It was like a police shootout had occurred there, cop cars everywhere and news reporters filling the streets. The scene was a nightmare, a cluster fuck, and I honked my way as close as I could get. I ended up leaving my car in the street and hadn’t cared if someone stole it or did whatever the fuck they wanted.

  This is a lie.

  This was my recurring thought as I ran, lies everywhere. It was a lie that Charlie was dead. It was a lie that all this was happening.

  I stood at the yellow tape. The scene was completely blocked off by the cops. Suddenly, the shutters flew, and the reporters and photographers redirected their attention to a pale woman being escorted out of the house. She was underneath the arm of a female officer, the woman guiding her off the property.

  They had Principal Mayberry under a blanket.

  Her eyes were red, her expression vacant. Tear lines tracked down her face, and when the female officer placed her in a cop car, my headmaster stared out the window. Principal Mayberry blinked amongst the lights and shutters of the cameras. Her expression was blank.

  But then she spotted me.

  Her mouth parted, her eyes wide. She stared at me like all the answers were there, and I merely had to see them in her eyes to decipher them. She sat there like there were far more answers inside that house than what I’d been told.

  She was a lie.

  She was lying, and I stared at her now. Charlie had been thoroughly shaken after finding out Coach Mayberry was still with his wife. After finding out his ex-girlfriend was still with her abusive husband. He hadn’t come over to this neighborhood tonight to jog.

  I knew that in my gut.

  That woman had something to do with this. She did something, and I watched as the cops drove her away. She shifted in her seat, staring at me through the rearview mirror. There were more answers that needed to be found out here and once I found them…

  I was going to end her.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Dorian - present

  The text came from Thatcher as I reentered Maywood Heights’s city limits, but I didn’t check it until I stopped at a streetlight.

  Thatcher: Did you do it?

  I had, picking up my phone off the seat.

  Me: It’s done.

  I tossed the phone after that. The light changed, but the phone flashed again, and I couldn’t help but look over.

  Wells: You okay?

  Word certainly traveled fast between my friends. Thatcher had obviously texted Wells.

  I had no more words for my friends, so I let the text go.

  I drove home.

  I took the long way, scenic until I got so lost in my thoughts I had no idea how I’d gotten there. I sat in the driveway for what felt like forever. Meanwhile, my phone blew up beside me.

  I hung an arm over the wheel, staring at the phone on my seat. Texts from both Wells and Thatcher roll
ed in, but I didn’t move an inch.

  Thatcher: D, wanna talk?

  Wells: Wanna meet?

  They were in a group chat at this point, and I’d obviously figured out they’d been talking to each other first. How else would Wells know to ask if I was okay?

  I wasn’t.

  I was man enough to admit that what I’d done today had affected me. I was goddamn human.

  And what I’d done was fucked.

  It’d been necessary, though, which was why I’d done it.

  I started to pick up my phone, but wasn’t man enough to admit my feelings to my friends. They weren’t going to know.

  Me: I’m fine.

  I wasn’t fine.

  It didn’t matter.

  What was done was done, and now that tonight was behind me, I could move on.

  I was free.

  I could sleep well tonight knowing I’d stepped up and done what I’d needed to do. My father also wouldn’t have to worry any longer about things he shouldn’t have been close to knowing about. I’d admit I’d gotten sloppy in the past, but this time, I’d used cash during my stops upstate.

  Not that I could stop and fucking eat anything.

  I’d ended up pulling over at a truck stop halfway between here and my destination just to make good use of the toilet. I’d hurled my fucking brains out like a little bitch, nerves.

  On my return trip, though, there’d been nothing but stomach bile in my gut. I’d managed to at least keep that down. I’d driven all the way back to Maywood Heights with my stomach clenched, my chest tight.

  I just didn’t know why.

  I’d stared a monster in the eyes tonight, taken care of shit, so I shouldn’t have felt anything about what I’d just done.

  Thatcher: Talk to us, D.

  Wells: Should we call your parents? Wolf?

  God, fucking no.

  Me: I told you I’m fucking fine. Stop worrying.

  They didn’t stop.

  They continued to blow up my phone for the next few days.

  I didn’t go to school.

  I had Ronald call me in after my parents went off to work, and he could probably get fired for such a thing.

  I stopped caring about stuff I used to care about. I stopped being a decent fucking human being. Wells and Thatcher continued to text and even showed up during those few days I cut class and needed time to my fucking self.

  I had Ronald send them away.

  I’d never been more grateful to not share events of my life with my other best friend, Wolf. One person who wasn’t blowing up my phone had been him, and oddly enough, he’d been very quiet. I got one or two texts asking if I was still living since I was calling in sick. But nothing after that.

  It was just Thatcher and Wells who were hovering. Like they themselves stated, they felt they were accessories to what I’d done. They knew about shit, but they were sworn to secrecy—by me.

  Eventually, I did leave the house to drive and did plan on going to school tomorrow. Currently, I sat in my car picking at food I’d just gotten from Jax’s Burgers. I still had no taste, but Ronald had urged me to go out and get something to eat. He’d said I hadn’t been looking well.

  He didn’t know the half of it.

  My food had gotten cold in my lap, and I just sat in my parents’ driveway with it. It was starting to get late, and I probably should go to bed. Not that I could sleep either.

  My mind was a cluster fuck, but I had to get my shit together. Things still weren’t done, not by a long shot, and I’d just mustered up the energy to go inside when I got a weird text.

  For once, it wasn’t Thatcher or Wells.

  Unknown: Hey, this is Sloane. I’m not sure if you’re still out of town. It’s been a few days, but if you are back, are you with my brother? I can’t find him.

  Sloane.

  What the fuck?

  Me: How did you get this number?

  She shouldn’t have it. I’d never given it to her.

  Sloane: Went through Bru’s phone one night.

  She pinged.

  Sloane: Swiped his contacts.

  She pinged again.

  Sloane: I didn’t trust you.

  She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t trust me at all.

  I was a monster.

  My trail of dark deeds would only grow as the days progressed. That I knew. Sloane’s text message bubble surfaced again, and I waited.

  Sloane: Also, if he was hanging with you guys, I needed a way to contact him in case I couldn’t find him. Example: tonight. Are you with him? Are you back?

  I definitely was. Had been for days.

  Me: I’m back, but I’m not with him. Sorry.

  I tossed my phone, my headache a mile long.

  My phone rang.

  I started to shut that shit off, but then Sloane’s number showed on the front.

  Christ.

  I answered despite myself. Why did I always fucking cater to this girl?

  I sat in silence when I answered, hadn’t even said her name when I picked up.

  “Hi.”

  Her hurried voice slid into the line, breathy, panting. It reminded me of when I’d made her come.

  Instantly.

  Fucking.

  Hard.

  This girl had a fucking effect on me I couldn’t stand, and she was obviously moving around somewhere.

  “What do you need?” I asked her, doing my best not to sound like a fucking dick.

  Why do you care?

  For some reason, I did, waiting. But when she didn’t say anything at first, I sat up. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to look for Bru,” she huffed, more than aggressive about it. It was one of the things I liked about her. Noa Sloane put up with no shit. She stood up to me, stood up to all of us, and not a lot of people around here did that whether because of fear or intimidation.

  We’d attempted both on her, but to no avail. She’d handled her own.

  And got in your goddamn head.

  I blamed that on only her taste, something I’d made myself truly believe. I didn’t have time for anything else.

  “The Find My Phone app said he’s at Murphy Park,” she said. “But I think I’m lost. That’s why I called you. I have no idea where the fuck I am.”

  I smiled. “I know it. Where did you just pass? Anything identifiable?”

  “Actually, yes.” She stopped, then chuckled. “You probably won’t believe this, but there’s a tree that looks like a fucking dick.”

  I laughed.

  Actually laughed.

  This girl managed to get laughter out of me, go fucking figure after the week I’d had. I nodded my chin though she couldn’t see. “Doyle’s Cock.”

  “What?”

  My smile widened. “That’s its name.” Well, at least that’s what me and my asshole friends named it. “We had a teacher named Mr. Doyle in the seventh grade. Total dick. We named it after him.”

  “Hence, Doyle’s Cock.” Her own laughter sounded into the line, like those little birds that flew around in spring.

  What the fuck? Little birds? Really, D?

  This chick was way too into my head, and I knew because I was now backing out of my driveway.

  “Stay there,” I said into the line. I had my speakerphone on at this point. “I’m coming out. I’ll find you.”

  “What?”

  “I said I’m coming to you. What, you don’t want the help?” Not to mention she was fucking lost. “Just stay there. Don’t get yourself lost any deeper.”

  “Okay.” Her voice had been light, hesitant. Noa Sloane still didn’t trust me.

  She really shouldn’t.

  I got to Doyle’s Cock, and Sloane sat on a picnic table beside it. She had her phone in her lap, the light from it contouring the soft shape of her face. My Audi lights flooded the grass in front of her, and she lifted her head, all that dark hair sliding off her shoulder when she stood up.

  This girl was a goddamn goddess from he
r little shirts that hugged her perfect tits to the shorts that barely covered her ass cheeks. She had these dark nipples that I loved too, like chocolate fucking kisses.

  But then she fucking looked at you.

  Borderline knocked me out more than once, and I was man enough to admit that too. I had no place in my life for Noa Sloane.

  Yet, here she was.

  She strode over to me in her high-top tennis shoes, eye level to eye level with me when she got there. I still couldn’t get over how tall this girl was. I had a good half a foot on her, but it was rare I actually stared into a girl’s eyes without looking down at her. Sloane stood toe to toe with me.

  She always had.

  “Hi.” She said this timidly. Not like herself at all.

  But then again, last time you saw her you fucked her and she made you come like a goddamn virgin.

  This girl continued to be a complete head fuck, and as she showed me her phone, her skin smelling all sweet and shit like cookies, I tried to focus on what she was showing me.

  “Find My Phone says he’s here,” she said, long dark lashes flowing at me. She gazed around. “I just don’t know why.”

  “He won’t pick up his phone?” I typed his number, calling him. Her phone app wasn’t saying much. Just had a dot on Murphy Park.

  The number went right to voicemail, no ring at all.

  “Just voicemail.” She turned, confirming what she’d obviously gotten too. She messed with her hair. “I’m trying not to worry.”

  She was, her face flushed and cheeks rosy. How was it this girl had not a stitch of makeup on and managed to look like a complete fucking wet dream?

  Focus.

  I wasn’t acting like myself either, coming out here and shit.

  Mentally, I blamed that on my last few days. I pocketed my phone. “Come on.”

  “Where we going?” she asked, but she followed.

  “Obviously, to look for him.” I turned around. “You don’t want the help?”

  I was being an asshole because I was an asshole.

  She noticed.

  Her eyes narrowed into hard slits, her nostrils flaring. “Don’t pretend like you want to help or anything.”

  “I won’t,” I stated. Though, I was doing the exact opposite.

  She must have wanted the help because she followed along with me. I got to watch her little ass cheeks as we delved deeper into the park, using nothing but our cell phones and the park lights for guidance. The park’s lights were few and far between, though. We were pretty much in the dark out here.