Prick: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Ridgeview Prep Book 0)

by Londyn Quinn

  Prick

  Ridgeview Prep Prequel

  Londyn Quinn

  Copyright

  Prick © 2020 Sinners & Saviors, LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  Published: Sinners & Saviors, LLC 2020

  Cover Design: Sinners & Saviors, LLC

  Formatting by: Sinners & Saviors, LLC

  Editing by:

  Elaine York: Allusion Graphics

  elaine@allusiongraphics.com

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Londyn Quinn

  To everyone that has believed in me through this journey.

  Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

  Foreword

  I am an Iazetti. She is a Hawthorne.

  Oil and water – we were never meant to mix.

  Her father despises me...all that I am and the darkness I represent.

  But his empty threats and harsh glares don’t scare me. He will never keep me away from his daughter.

  I need her like I need air to breathe.

  Charlotte Hawthorne is my everything.

  She’s the only one who can keep me from turning into the monster that lurks down deep.

  I hate that monster as much as her father hates me.

  And even though I want Char, I know I can’t have her.

  I’m too damaged, too tainted

  With way too much blood on my hands.

  Then one night, she tells me she loves me

  And in the next breath says goodbye, unleashing the monster I truly am.

  The prick with nothing to lose.

  Author note: This is the prequel novella to The Ridgeview Prep Series, A Dark High School Bully Romance Duet that will leave you on the edge of your seat and gasping for air. Tread lightly. These books are not for the faint of heart and are not meant for readers under the age of 17. You have been warned.

  Chapter 1

  Xander

  “You see this?” My brother Jase hisses, holding up a fully extended box cutter blade. The stainless-steel tip glimmers in the moonlight. “It’s what I’m gonna use to cut off your fucking fingers one by one if you don’t start talking!” He narrows his dark eyes, flashing a sinister smirk at the schmuck shivering against the blade currently pressed against his cheek. “And I’ll go for your balls next, dickhead. So don’t screw with me.”

  Jase is a sadistic fuck if you haven’t already figured that out. I’ve seen him skin a cat because it came too close to him and brought on a killer allergy attack.

  Killer for the cat, that is.

  He didn’t even flinch. Didn’t even think twice about it. It was all a game to Jase.

  To say he’s a loose cannon is an understatement.

  He’s a maniacal bastard with no regard for human life. Any human.

  And he’s also my mentor.

  “Did you really think you’d get away with it, Shorty?” Jase lets out a dry chuckle. “Don’t you know I see and hear everything?”

  “J-Jase, I was gonna pay you back, I swear! I just needed to make a little extra cash—”

  “Save it. You took my shit and laced it with your own ingredients before selling it. Do you know how many overdoses have been reported in the past two weeks? In your fucking territory?”

  “N-no,” Shorty sputters. He yelps as Jase drags the blade down the side of his face, piercing the skin. The blood trickles down Shorty’s ashy cheek. It should rattle me, but it doesn’t. It’s just another day for us.

  “Five, bitch. Five!” Jase presses his forehead to Shorty’s, malice dripping from his gaze. I can see it clear as day even though it’s well past nine in the evening. “What kinda heat you think that’s gonna bring on my family, ese?”

  “A lot,” Shorty whimpers.

  “Yeah,” Jase grumbles. “Now you’re getting it.” He pulls the blade away from Shorty’s face and turns to me. “Xander, get over here.”

  I swallow hard, forcing down the bile rising in my throat. I take a few steps closer to Shorty and his eyes plead with mine to do something, to help him get out of my sicko brother’s clutches.

  But there’s nothing I can do for him.

  This life is all about survival of the fittest. If you can’t fight back, you’re gonna die.

  And Shorty can’t fight back. He knows he’s screwed. If he gives Jase the names he’s looking for, he’s dead. If he doesn’t, he’s dead.

  Fucked if he does, fucked harder if he doesn’t.

  Because nobody knows torture and torment like Jase Iazetti.

  Jase hands me the box cutter and grabs a fistful of Shorty’s greasy black hair. He yanks his head back, forcing his eyes away from me.

  I stare at the box cutter in my hand.

  I don’t want to do this.

  My oldest brother Phoenix wouldn’t make me do this.

  But Jase gets off on watching other people, especially me, suffer.

  He calls me soft and sensitive, when in reality, he’s just plain diabolical.

  He hates that I don’t have the same taste for blood as he does. He thinks it makes me weak.

  Unworthy of the Iazetti name.

  So for the past six months, he’s been dragging me around on his manhunts when my parents are off at one of the many events that flood their social calendar. If Phoenix knew Jase pulled me into his dark and twisted world, he’d blow a gasket. And while part of me is desperate to tell him, to get myself off of the proverbial hook, I know Jase would only make it worse for me in the end.

  Sure, I wouldn’t have to amputate body parts anymore, but it’d also effectively cut off my cash flow.

  And the respect of my brothers.

  As the youngest, I was always coddled by my mother and protected from the family business. She made sure I was kept far away from all of it, just as she’d tried to do for Phoenix and Jase.

  Jase is the brawn and was a lost cause from the get-go. He came out of the womb nineteen years ago with an M-5 and a switchblade in either hand.

  And Phoenix is the brain. At twenty-two, he already owns his own construction company and has made our family a shit ton of cash because he knows the art of negotiation.

  Jase practices an entirely different type of negotiation. While Phoenix has conversations using actual words, Jase uses weaponry to make his position crystal clear.

  “I’ll give you one last chance, Shorty,” Jase growls against his ear. “Who did it?” He nods at me, and I grab Shorty’s hand, slamming my own on top of it. I look aroun
d, but the parking lot is desolate. It’s as good of a place as any for our dark deeds. The abandoned factory that shields the lot from the road drapes us with protection.

  For now.

  That can change damn quick. Junkies and hookers frequent this spot for the same damn reason we do.

  To be alone.

  I press the blade against the base of Shorty’s index finger, knowing I’ll need to clip off the others if he doesn’t start spilling the information to Jase. My stomach churns. I don’t want to think about my past mutilations right now. I’m struggling to keep down my dinner.

  “I don’t know!” Shorty looks at me as I press the blade into his skin. He shrieks when the blood drizzles out of the finger he’s about to lose.

  “Shorty, just give him a fucking name!” I growl, my jaw tightening as I drag the blade back and forth.

  “I swear I don’t know!” he cries, tears streaming down his face. “Ahh!”

  “You fucking pussy,” Jase grumbles sweeping his one free hand through his wavy dark hair. It’s always a tangled mess and completely disheveled.

  Just like Jase.

  “Do it now!” Jase shouts to me.

  My hand shakes as I sever the finger, realizing that it’s also the same hand that I use to stroke the soft hair of Charlotte Hawthorne.

  The girl I’ve loved for as long as I can remember.

  The girl who has no idea who I really am or have even become, for that matter.

  The girl whose heart of gold would shrivel if she knew how black my own had turned in the past six months.

  Shorty’s piercing screams shatter my eardrums, and I tighten my grip on his hand. “If you think this is bad, you don’t want to see what comes next,” I growl as muscles tense throughout my body, rippling while Shorty’s pleas and yelps pierce the chilly night air. “Just give him a name and all of this is over, understand?”

  “I told you, Xander,” he cries. “I don’t know!”

  “Bullshit!” I slam the blade down on his middle finger like it’s an axe. Jase rolls his eyes at me.

  “You’re being too easy on him. Slice that shit off nice and slow. I wanna see him suffer.”

  My stomach tightens. Yeah, but fast and furious helps keep the food in my belly, where it belongs. I mean, Jase already has zero respect for me. If I puke all over Shorty, he might start cutting off my fingers.

  “What if he really doesn’t know who did it?” I mutter under my breath, quickly shutting my mouth as I start on the next finger. Shorty is wailing so loudly, I doubt he can even hear us right now.

  “Of course he knows,” Jase hisses, grabbing another fistful of hair and yanking Shorty’s head back again. “Because whoever did it paid our friend here. I just wanna know where the money came from.” He peers down at Shorty. “It’s an easy question, Shorty. The longer it takes you to answer, the more fingers you walk away with in fucking Ziploc bags.”

  A door in the distance slams open, and a couple of guys walk outside of the dingy, dark building behind us with lit cigarettes. The smell assaults my nostrils, damn-near sending my stomach into upheaval.

  Jase grabs the roll of duct tape and tears off a piece, slapping it over Shorty’s mouth. He nods at me. “Let’s go. We’ll finish later.”

  “Consider this a warning,” Jase growls against Shorty’s ear. “And don’t get any ideas about running ’cause you know I’ll find your sorry ass and plug it with bullets if you do.”

  I stagger to my feet, my toes numb from sitting on them as I played butcher. It was hard to get leverage, but keeping the victim in place was more important than my comfort or ease. I look at Shorty who’s transformed into a complete fucking basket case on the ground and shake my head. His eyes are brimming with tears, his whole body shaking as if he had been plunged naked into an ice bath.

  “Was the money worth it, Shorty?” I ask, contempt dripping from my words. “Did you really think you were gonna get away with crossing my father?”

  “This ain’t over,” Jase mutters to Shorty, still keeping his eye on the two big dudes smoking. He grabs my arm and pulls me away.

  Our feet pounding on the pavement attracts unwanted attention, though, and the smoking guys are now running in Shorty’s direction, yelling for us to stop. We really need to find a new spot to do this shit in. But that’s a problem for another time.

  Right now, escape is our main focus.

  My heart thumps as we close the distance between us and the car, some used piece of crap we take every time we have business in this shithole neighborhood, not far enough away from the mansion we call home if you ask me. We get in and Jase guns the motor, peeling out of the darkened parking lot.

  If Shorty is smart, he won’t give away our names.

  But since he’s already proven that he really is as stupid as he looks, I don’t have much faith in him keeping his damn mouth shut.

  Which means we’ll be back. Somehow I know Jase will tell me we’ll have to cut his tongue out or some sadistic shit like that, once we get the information that we need from him.

  My gut clenches at the thought. Every time we venture into that area, I wonder if we’ll come out on the other side. Jase has pissed off enough people and made plenty of enemies who won’t hesitate to put a bullet in his brain. And if I happen to be his sidekick for the night, they won’t give two shits about terminating my ass, too.

  Iazetti name be damned.

  I scrub a hand down the front of my face and stare at my phone.

  Five missed texts.

  Jase glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “Is that your girlfriend looking for ya? You ever tell her why you’re always late for your make-out sessions? That it’s because you’re too busy slicing off body parts?”

  I glare at him. “Screw you, Jase. She’s just a friend.”

  His mouth twists into a grimace. “Yeah, whatever you say. I took your pathetic ass on to try and toughen you up. Mom and Dad have always tried to keep you away from this, but it’s the life we live and you need to figure out your place in the family.”

  “Oh, like you?” I snort and stare out the window. “You think torturing people is the way you’re gonna get to the top? You think that’s gonna help Dad take over?”

  Jase slams on the brakes as we near the outskirts of this crap town. The houses are getting bigger, cars getting more expensive, and lawns…well, there are lawns. The grass is most definitely greener on this side of the tracks, for sure.

  “You don’t know shit about what’s gonna help Dad! He’s second in command. He needs to show strength, and his three sons need to do the same thing. That’s why I got you involved, dipshit. You need to figure out now how you can be valuable, because that’s how we’re gonna take over the organization.”

  “You’ve got a really distorted view of reality,” I say with an eye roll. “Causing havoc like we just did only pisses people off.” Jesus, I’m only sixteen and I already know that. At least I pay attention!

  “My view is the only one you should care about,” he grunts, turning down a wide, tree-lined street. “And if you play your cards right, you’ll be rewarded. So stop complaining like a bitch every time I give you a job to do, capice?” He pulls the car to a stop next to the sidewalk, and I push open the door.

  “Don’t forget to wash your hands once you get inside. You don’t want to leave bloody fingerprints all over your princess’s bra.” He snickers and the tires squeal away from the curb as soon as I slam the door shut.

  I take a deep breath and stare up at Charlotte’s enormous home and the immaculately manicured grounds surrounding it. Our house is huge, yes, but not like this. The Hawthornes bleed old money, prestige, and social class.

  It doesn’t matter how much my dad makes. It doesn’t matter how many cars we have, how many beach houses we own.

  I’ll never measure up in Charlotte’s parents’ eyes.

  They want to hook her up with some country club yo-yo who comes from a good family.

  I see the way
they look at me, the way they cringe when they hear her say my name.

  I see her father judge me every time I step into their palatial home, how he eyes me like a cockroach that he can’t seem to crush.

  He’s tried before.

  He’ll try again.

  He thinks he knows what’s best for his little girl.

  But what he doesn’t know is how skilled I’ve become with a box cutter.

  Chapter 2

  Charlotte

  “How’d the lessons go today?” Rolland, my driver, asks through the open divider window as I yank off my full seat breeches. I toss the putrid, thick black boots onto the seat next to me in a huff, thankful to finally be out of them.

  “Fine,” I ultimately respond with an eye roll that was only meant for me. It wasn’t lost on anyone in our household staff that I absolutely despise the competitive riding that my mother forces upon me, but what was I supposed to do? Whatever Camilla Hawthorne wants, she gets. Including whatever she wants me to do. I tried testing that theory once when I was five, and needless to say, I learned that hard lesson within seconds.

  Sliding on the UGGs Rolland keeps for me in the back of his car, I start to relax. My legs ache. My back is screaming. Jump after jump on Midnight Jewel, my Dutch Warmblood, was sheer torture. But I did it without complaint. Well, without outwardly complaining. Let’s face it, I complain to myself and to my diary on a regular basis.

  Midnight Jewel — what a stupid name. I obviously did not pick that out. I would have named him Darcy if I could have. He really reminded me of my favorite character from Pride and Prejudice.

  The silver lining in all of it is that I do love my horse, though. The dappled jet-black gelding is overly sweet and always gets excited whenever he sees me walk into the stable. He also has the most adorable pure white socks on his front legs, and the smallest sliver of a star between his eyes. Midnight was my tenth birthday present from my mom. Well, he was more for her than for me, but I’ll take a win when I can get one. Besides, who’s really keeping score?