by G. Bailey
Copyright
Consequence © 2019 G. Bailey & Scarlett Snow
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Covers by Daqri (Covers by Combs)
Format by Stacey Ryan Blake (Champagne Book Design)
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
About This Book
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
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Thank You
About G. Bailey
About Scarlett Snow
For the badass women who never needed a prince to save them.
I did something terrible.
It’s a nasty secret, one I never want the world to find out.
But now someone knows and they want me to get revenge for them.
Ethan Remington, Josh Dedican, Hunter Cross, Nathan Cross and Lucas Georgian are my targets, and they just so happen to rule the little town of Holly.
I have to end their rule at the local Academy I’ve just moved into or else my secret is out.
That cannot happen.
I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my secret safe—even if that means taking down my unlucky victims one by one.
Don’t feel sorry for them.
They did bad things too, almost as terrible as me.
I’m going to be their worst nightmare imaginable.
And the best part?
They don’t get to wake up from it.
If I’m going to hell, they are coming down with me.
Welcome to Holly Oak Academy, where money talks more than education and the rich boys do very bad things. Now they’ve met their match — me — and I’m bringing them down no matter what it takes. I have to, or else I’m a goner.
18+ RH Bully Romance.
There is something so terribly addictive about lying. You know it’s bad, appalling really, but sometimes you can’t help the words that escape your lips.
Sometimes it even feels good to say them.
I should feel awful for the lie I just told, the lie that adds to the hundreds I’ve already told my parents.
To everyone.
But I don’t.
“I’ve told you, Mother, I didn’t know him very well,” I tell her, the words swiftly leaving my lips with little effort at all.
Maybe I spoke too soon, but that is the only way she could tell I am lying. My mother and father are judges for the courts. They can smell a lie before it’s even uttered. They brought me up to never lie to family because it always gets you trouble. They never told me what to do once you are already in trouble and have no other option because your family can never find out.
“I’m just concerned about his disappearance—"
“Mother, I’m fine,” I cut her off before she can say anything more; I can't talk about this with her.
It’s another lie, of course, because I’m not fine, not one little bit, and I know she can tell. Sometimes it’s like she sees straight through my pale blue eyes and reads my every thought.
Thankfully, she can’t do that, or she might be a tad horrified by what she finds.
“Fine, fine. Are you looking forward to seeing the new boarding school?” she inquires casually, her eyes drifting to the front of the limo just briefly enough to let me know she likes this driver. It’s always the drivers for my mother—usually the handsome young ones with dark hair. As for my father? It’s the pretty secretaries that strut around with their peroxide blonde hair and augmented breasts. My parents love their affairs and the revolving door of drivers and secretaries. They don’t love the people they fool around with, of course, just the thrill of the chase and the sex.
Love is for the lower class and the weak.
That’s what they both say if you ask them why they bother staying married. Everything is about money and appearance. It’s why my light brown hair is perfectly cut, straight and highlighted blonde. My peach dress fits my body like a glove. I have a strict diet and fitness regime to make sure I stay in control of my figure. No junk food whenever I’m with my parents. My body is just an engine to them and they want to keep it running perfectly for as long as possible. It’s been this way since before I can remember and I’ve always hated it.
Life must be more than this boring routine.
It has to be.
But not to my parents.
“What was the school called again?” I ask her, because until this point I’ve been so scared of the past and my secret that I’ve hidden away in it. The future was never really important to me. Now, things have changed, and I need to focus on the future. Every mile we get away from my old boarding school, the more I can relax and actually breathe in this tight dress.
“Holly Oak Academy,” my mother answers me, her eyes still busy checking out the driver. “It is one of the most prestigious schools in England and only the best go here. Honestly, I have no idea why we sent you to that school by London in the first place.”
“Because you work in London and it meant I could see you often?” I dryly respond. “And it meant I could carry on my other training in secret.”
Mother looks at me for a second, her gaze reminding me that I shouldn’t have brought up the training. Assassins never talk about their past, after all. Not that I’m an assassin. At least not officially. In the eyes of the Veil Council—the syndicate of lords that rule the criminal world—I’m not an assassin until my twenty-first birthday. Only after I present my sacrifice to the council during my Blood Oath am I considered anything of worth. Until then, I’ve simply been trained by my parents to be just like them: perfect on the outside, empty on the inside.
Deadly to our enemies while living a picture-perfect life.
My father wants me to take his place at the High Table. I’ll be the youngest member to ever be sworn into the Veil.
Lucky me.
“Oh, well, yes there was that. We all have busy lives,” she says, waving a hand at me, a signal to drop the subject.
I bite back my retort and look out the window at the rolling hills. They’re covered in wildflowers and towering fir trees, and the sky is streaked in dark rain clouds, ready to erupt. I hope this isn’t a bad omen of some kind. I’ve had enough misfortune this past year to last me a lifetime. I lean back in my seat and watch the landscape slide by, allowing my thoughts to drift into mindless contemplation.
“Do not slouch! We didn’t bring you up that way,” my mother snaps, nudging me in the ribs with her elbow.
I automatically straighten in my seat. Sometimes I swear my parents
hold the strings to my mind and body, and there is nothing I can do but obey them. It’s like I’m just their puppet. I follow their orders to the point that I hate my life, and the one time I tried to cut my string and do something for myself… Well, that was when it all went so horribly wrong.
Now I’m lying to everyone, including myself. I can’t risk my parents, or anyone for that matter, finding out the truth. It will ruin us all.
I watch my mother from the corner of my eye, the way she holds her head high and keeps her back straight in her perfectly tailored light blue suit. Her legs are crossed, her black heels have light blue on the bottom to match her perfect image.
Perfect.
Perfect.
Fucking perfect.
I hate it all, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to escape it now. I’m stuck in this hell, like I have been since I was born. After all the things I’ve done…the lies I’ve told…there’s no way out. Even if there was an escape, the Veil would put an end to it.
No one ever rescinds their Blood Oath and lives to tell the tale.
“Ah, we are nearly here,” my mother sighs with relief, pointing at the window on her side.
I look through the glass at the beautiful mansion on top of a hill in the distance.
Holly Oak Academy has no idea who they have just let into their halls.
The precious Holly Oak Academy is just what the brochure says, at least from the outside. The castle is mostly grey stone, with new extensions on the front with large glass windows that burst light into every corner of the building. The front lawns are all fake grass, kept pretty with vibrant flower beds and little pots attached to the windows. The driveaway is made of paved brown bricks set in a classy design, leading up to the pebble stone pathways. In the centre of the castle is the entrance hall, marked by the large academy symbol that clearly says ‘Holly Oak Academy’, and a small sign underneath the word entrance written. Our driver opens the door to our limo and I step out, followed by my mother who doesn’t move away from the door.
“Are you not coming in with me?” The question tumbles out before I can catch it. I can tell just from her posture that she isn’t accompanying me. She never does. The driver starts getting out my suitcases as my mother and I stare at each other, both of us silent.
“Go and tell the academy that Miss Regan Hall is here,” she orders the driver, her eyes still pinned on me.
“Yes Paloma—I mean, Mrs Hall,” he replies, quickly making his way to the entrance hall as fast as his feet can take him.
“Isn’t he a little young and stupid for you?” I snort and my sweet mother just smiles at me, a mere tug of her thinly pressed lips, before lashing her hand out and slapping me hard across my cheek. I stumble back, tasting blood in my mouth, and my mother hands me a satin napkin as if I only sneezed.
“Careful with that mouth of yours. You open it far too often to say things you wish you didn’t,” she warns in a deceptively calm voice. “I have told you once before that words, like actions, have consequences. When will you ever learn?”
I take the napkin from her and wipe the blood away from my lips. I want to give her a sarcastic reply but deep down I know I’ve pushed my luck already.
“Have a good trip home, Mother,” I say instead, forcing a smile.
“Goodbye, Regan,” she replies coldly, placing her hand on the door and pausing before she slips inside. She looks back up at me, her light blue eyes a little like mine in some ways. I like to think I have more life in them than she does. “Do not embarrass us here, Regan. Your father and I do not need your drama at the moment. Keep your head down and I will be back for you in three years. It should not be that difficult for you. You can even forget your past and have a new life here. A safe life. You should thank me and your father.”
“It’s hard to thank someone you never see.”
“Your father is—” Mother snaps her lips together, pursing them in thought. “Whatever your father is, he does the best he can to protect you in all his decisions. Remember that. Goodbye, Regan.”
She closes the door in my face, her body obscured by the tinted window. I stare at my own reflection, my expression deadpan while inside rage fills me to the core. My father protects me in all his decisions? Bullshit. He couldn’t care less about me and it’s the same for my dear mother. They wanted me out of the way, so here I am. I look up at Holly Oak Academy, where the rich send their children to get them out of the way and know they will be ‘safe’.
Yeah. More like they just can’t be bothered with them.
I guess I’m going to fit right in.
“Miss Hall, I presume?” a snotty woman in a designer suit dress that is far too tight asks me. I’m surprised she can breathe in the damn thing.
I slowly look around before smiling at her. “I don’t see any other new students, so you can presume you’re correct.”
Her ashen cheeks turn a violent shade of red. In fact, her whole chest turns the same colour as her hands shake and I wonder if she would like to hit me right now. They always say it’s the quiet ones who have a taste for violence.
“That kind of sarcastic behaviour is beneath the standard of the girls at this academy. I suggest you find a way to behave more correctly, Miss Hall, to be a shining example of who a daughter of two very important judges should be,” she suggests, harrumphing under her breath. “Now, my name is Mrs Beach and I am the headmistress here. I expect nothing but good behaviour from you, considering your record.”
“Of course,” I plainly reply, smiling at her. I know better than to rise to the bait every time. I lost my temper at my old school, just once, and unfortunately a lot of people saw it and I was expelled. That didn’t go down well with my parents. Now I know to calm myself and seek revenge behind closed doors while also nailing down a watertight alibi.
Those are important.
“Perfect. This way.” She turns around on her heel and click-clacks her way down the entrance hall. “Everything past this door is safe and protected, and students are not allowed to leave without permission and two bodyguards with them.”
“So the academy is a fancy prison? Perfect.”
“Don’t see it as a prison. See it as a protected place for teenagers who are valuable.”
“Like me…” I mutter, and I didn’t mean it as a question but she answers anyway.
“As the only child of two very important and wealthy judges? Yes. You could be kidnapped and held against them, therefore you must be kept safe,” she explains as she finally finds the right key and unlocks the door.
I’d like to see someone try to kidnap me, that’s for sure.
It would be a fun exercise training as one of my old professors used to say.
Of course, I highly doubt my captor would come out of it alive.
I imagine that’s part of the fun.
Mrs Beach holds the door open for me, and I walk out into a stunning vestibule with a domed ceiling made of crystal-clear glass. The sunlight pouring through cast prisms around the room and they bounce off the fountain in the middle of the floor. The tiles are a pristine white and every wall has lockers on them, each with doors in-between. Thankfully, there are no students around, but I can hear them in the classrooms behind the doors.
“This is the main part of Holly Oak Academy, where most of your lessons are,” Mrs Beach informs me, walking swiftly ahead. I look back as the door slams shut, an electric lock beeping to signal it’s locked. It makes me feel trapped rather than ‘safe’. Mrs Beach doesn’t stop chatting as we head through the large room. “This way leads to the girls and boys dorm rooms in the back of the castle, and if you carry on past the dorms it leads to the library, cafeteria, game rooms, beauty parlour, a door to the gardens and finally the greenhouses. You will need to find your way to each of these as there are classes in most of those rooms.”
I look up at the glass, seeing the grey clouds above. “Even the beauty parlour?”
“Oh, no. That room and the game rooms are for
personal use on weekends.”
We reach a set of double doors. One has boys written on it and the other has girls.
“I hope this shouldn’t be an issue, but girls are not allowed in the boys’ dorms and it is the same rule the other way around.”
I nod at her. “Of course. It was the same at my previous boarding house.”
She opens the girls’ door. “Brilliant. Let’s continue on, then.”
As I follow her through, I try not to smile. I’m sure the same thing happens here as it did in my old boarding house—the girls and boys always sneak into each other’s rooms.
Making it forbidden simply makes it more fun.
At my old school, there used to be three balconies with ridges you could walk across to go to the other dorms. It was like the professors wanted us to break their precious rules.
I follow Mrs Beach up the curved staircase and towards a corridor with ten wooden doors, five on each side. The dark floorboards creak as Mrs Beach walks down to the third door on the right and pulls the brass handle. I smell dust and beach the instant the door is opened, and it only strengthens when I step over the threshold. The room is actually bigger than I expected it to be, but as modern as money can buy. That I did expect. This whole academy stinks of old and new money, and what do rich people do to keep their kids happy that they sent away? Throw more money at them. It’s a little laughable, really. I learned from a young age that money is the closest thing I’ll ever get to receiving affection from my parents. People like them can’t be bothered with children. We are simply pawns.
Mrs Beach leads me to my room. It’s tucked away in the farthest corner, and when we step inside, it looks like the penthouse suite of a posh hotel. Simple and elegant, the colour silver is found in almost everything, from the silver bed with the enormous headboard and base, to the glittering silver velvet lounger at the end. Thin white curtains flutter in the light breeze of the open floor-to-ceiling window, blasting light into every nook and cranny of the room. The white ceiling has pretty little spotlights with a ceiling rose encasing a crystal chandelier. On the other side of the room is a walk-in closet, a door I suspect leads to a bathroom, and in the middle of them is a silver dressing table with a huge mirror and a little coffee machine. My suitcases are holding the door to the walk-in closet open. I can’t wait to get my personal things out and splash some colour around this room.
