Nefarious Boys: A Dark High School Romance (Broken Saints Society 3)

by Leia Thorne

Gage pulls me against his chest and links strong arms around me. “It’s over,” he repeats against my hair.

  I wrap my arms tightly around him, burying my mouth against his shoulder to keep my cry concealed. Then I see Sawyer. She walks our way and places her hand on my shoulder, linking us all together, and I pull her into the hug.

  “It’s over,” I say, just to hear it one more time.

  Only, I know somehow, this is far from our end.

  Epiloge

  Gage

  Secrets. Every secret society is built around them. Secrets are used to control people, to obtain and maintain power. The secrets a society harbors is what defines its inner circle, and binds members together.

  Every secret society preaches trust—a society must have trust among its members to succeed.

  The reality is, trust has nothing to do with it. Members scheme and plot and manipulate each other in order to keep their secrets buried.

  A secret is where the power lies.

  And as our society was threatened to be exposed, I was brought before the council to decide my fate. Once the truth of Tabatha de Pont’s heinous murder of her adoptive daughter and Remi’s mother was made public, there was no burying that…indiscretion. Since the event ended in Tabatha’s demise, she was pardoned for her involvement. Yet they had to punish someone; there has to be at least one person to suffer the consequences, to make an example out of.

  So of course, that someone had to be me.

  I took my licks like a good little society member. I was sanctioned to my father’s company for a year, to work under him learning all business-related (and society related) blah blah. Which meant that I had to put off college for the foreseeable future, but that’s not such a horrible injustice.

  I was not nominated as chairman.

  Remi was not nominated either—being that she has no actual bloodline claim to the society.

  In a rare twist, I discovered that Lesley was never a valid candidate. Tabatha was noted as becoming unhinged, and the society was already planning to oust her. One could say my attempts to steal her throne was all in vain…but I don’t see it that way.

  Our experiences define us, who we are, who we are to become. They shape and mold us.

  Had the events of junior and senior year never occurred, I would be a very different person.

  Sawyer and Remi would be very different, also. And I believe we are the best versions of ourselves now, because of what we went through.

  But enough of all that sentimental bullshit. That’s not why we’re here.

  The white marble headstone before me reads: Here lies Tabatha de Pont. Wife. Mother. Friend. Saint to us all.

  Pfft. It should read murderess psychotic henchwoman… But we somehow become our best selves in death all because people refuse to speak ill of the dead, right?

  “I can’t believe we’re here.” Palmer looks around at the vacant graveyard. “This is beyond creepy.”

  Now that a few months have passed, and the rumors have died down after graduation, Crescent Valley is back to its regular boring pace. It seemed like the logical time to visit Lesley and make our declarations.

  I glance over at Lesley’s gravestone. It’s unfortunate that her mother’s plot is right beside hers, but that’s the way it goes, too. Lesley died a de Pont. In the end, Tabatha got what she ultimately desired: to be with her daughter.

  “This is the perfect place,” I say. I’m a man of my word, after all. I promised Emry that I’d release Palmer and him from any future obligation to the Broken Saints and me, and I planned to see that through…then I thought better.

  Maybe it was an omen. When Tabatha took Remi’s ring with her to her death, and then to the grave… Maybe it was a sign that, with the loss of Lesley, it was time for the Broken Saints to end.

  Rush was accepted into Harvard. Palmer will be leaving shortly for the Paris Opera Ballet School. As valedictorian of Brighton Saints, Emry was easily accepted at Oxford, where he’ll remain close to Palmer. Sawyer is also attending Harvard, where she’s investing her time wisely in studying all things business to take over the crises management department of our (soon to be merged) company. And with the vast inheritance her grandmother left her on her eighteenth birthday, Remi can afford to attend the school of her choice, Northeastern.

  I might have helped grease the wheels on her acceptance letter a little, but I swear it didn’t take much, and it’s not something I want her to discover. From this point forward, I vow not to interfere with my friends’ lives.

  No lies. No secrets. No blackmail. No quid pro quo. Tabatha taught me one thing: when it comes to friends and family, you can’t own the ones you claim to love.

  I pull off my ring and lay it on the base of Lesley’s headstone. The others follow suit and remove their rings to set them alongside mine.

  “Wow. How very underwhelming,” Sawyer remarks. She props a fisted hand on her hip. “I thought there’d be something more…ceremonial.”

  “Like what?” Remi asks.

  Emry clears his throat. “Maybe a speech?”

  “Fuck that,” Rush speaks up. “I thought there would be like, a dirty graveyard gang-bang.”

  Palmer laughs. “Oh, my god…you would. Are you ever going to grow up?”

  “Hell no. Why would I?” Rush says. “I have a whole sea of college strange to explore.”

  Sawyer shakes her head and Remi laughs, but as a pensive silence settles around us, all eyes turn my way. I adjust my glasses as I stare at Tabatha’s headstone. I guess I’m the nominated speech maker, but what can I say?

  “To be a saint, one is said to be close to holiness, sanctity, a pure soul. There were never any saints amid us, not in the traditional sense.” I bow my head. “We were found broken, and so we formed our own society, where we were made whole.”

  I feel Remi’s hand in mine and I glance over at her. She gifts me a small smile. “That was kind of beautiful,” she says.

  Rush snickers. “Good job, bro. Here’s what I have to say.” He turns toward Tabatha’s plot. “Though I didn’t know her well, I had the best nut on her yacht. Thanks, crazy lady. Hey, Palm…speaking of…”

  Palmer holds up her hand. “Don’t even go there, Rush.” Then she turns her attention to Lesley’s gravestone. “I really do miss her. I hope she’s found peace…where she is.”

  Remi inhales a deep breath. “I think she has,” she says. “I never got to meet my sister, but I feel like I know her…because of all of you. And I have this feeling that she’s content, happy.”

  I smile down at her.

  As the Broken Saints disband for the last time, I admit I feel a little nostalgic. But who’s to say what will happen tomorrow? Emry or Palmer…or maybe even Rush might call on me one day needing a favor. And oh, of course, I’ll be there.

  I watch Emry and Palmer head off toward a Town Car, Rush tailing after them.

  As we walk toward my car, Sawyer flips a lock of her blond hair off her shoulder. “Are you ever going to reveal your secret society?” she says to me.

  “It wouldn’t be very secret if I did, would it?” I wink at her. My little bird… Oh, what fun we’ll have when the time comes to clip those wings.

  Her eyes cut my way with a devious glint. “Just as long as it doesn’t affect any negotiations later, Gage. I want our company to run clean—okay, semi clean—campaigns.”

  Sawyer’s crises management empire will consist mainly of politicians. The royals. The ones we elites bestow with just enough power to do our bidding.

  There’s no way in hell Sawyer can run a clean campaign. Her clients depend too heavily on favors. But hey, I’ll let her have her little fantasy for the moment, since there are no particular strings that need to be pulled at this time.

  The task given to me by the new chairman is a little more complicated, anyway, taking up most of my time these days. But that’s another story.

  The loud rumble of a motorcycle cracks the silence of the cemetery, and I watch Sawyer s
aunter toward Roland. She pops on a helmet and mounts his bike behind him. They literally ride off into the sunset together. How fucking cliché. My soon-to-be stepsister, a damn lovesick cliché.

  I tuck Remi closer to my side and I smile. Guess I have no room to talk, huh? I’m a bad boy turned whipped hero of the story. I, myself, am a fucking cliché.

  But here’s the thing, friends: I make it look fucking awesome.

  As we approach my new Audi, gifted to me by the new chairman, I slip my hands along Remi’s waist and hoist her onto the hood. I push a layer of her dark waves off her shoulder so I can kiss her neck.

  She links her arms around my shoulders. “It’s kind of naughty to make out in a cemetery,” she says.

  I make my way up to her lips, kissing her breathless. Then I slip my hand beneath that skirt that has been driving me crazy since I picked her up. “All you have to do is tell me to stop…”

  She spreads her thighs wider, her eyes finding mine and shining with lust. “Don’t ever stop.”

  That’s my girl.

  Thank you, dear reader, for taking this journey with me. I’ve had an amazing time telling Remi, Gage, and Sawyer’s story. I hope you’ve enjoyed the Broken Saints and their dark and edgy story as much as I have!

  I’d love to hear your thoughts in our secret Facebook group.

  Apply to become a member of the secret society of Broken Saints. Just tell Gage I sent you ;)

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  Also by Leia Thorne

  Broken Saints Society Series

  Dark Ties

  Dangerous Girls

  Nefarious Boys

  About the Author

  Leia Thorne is the Broken Saints Society series. Dark, edgy, dangerous. Romance that feels.

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