by Nora Cobb
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, events, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Wicked Boys copyright @ 2021 by Nora Cobb and Scholae Palatina Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews.
BOOKS IN THE ELITES OF REDWOOD ACADEMY
CRUEL BOYS
BRUTAL BOYS
SAVAGE BOYS
VICIOUS BOYS
WICKED BOYS
The Elites of Redwood Academy series is the SEQUEL to the Montlake Prep Series, a 5-book series that takes place a couple of years before.
Though Elites of Redwood Academy can be read on its own, it’s more enjoyable to also read the Montlake Prep series before starting this series.
About Montlake Prep Series
Following the tragic and unexpected death of her parents, Natalie Page finds herself under the care of her billionaire uncle and enrolls in the prestigious Montlake Prep Academy to finish her senior year of high school.
But unbeknownst to Natalie, Montlake is unlike any school she’s ever been in. In order to survive, she must both learn the unspoken code of the student body, and navigate through Montlake’s halls ruled by three ruthless kings of campus.
Read the Montlake Prep Series Today
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
WICKED BOYS
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
Epilogue
BOOKS IN THE ELITES OF REDWOOD ACADEMY SERIES
OTHER BOOKS BY NORA COBB
WICKED BOYS
Chapter One
Vicki
I’ve stared into the cold, evil eyes of the devil, given it the finger, and strutted away, but not this time. This time, I’m terrified to face my death. On the floor, Marcy is motionless, buried underneath a massive pile of twisted metal. One metal shelf might have stopped her and prevented her sick mind from brutalizing me. Marcy would’ve deserved it for being a twisted bitch, but this is bad. An aisle of shelves covers her body. Old boxes that are heavy to lift pin her to the concrete floor. No sign of life as her blood trickles from the gash on her forehead. Her limbs are twisted like a porcelain doll thrown in the air and shattered on the floor.
My heart pounds so hard it feels as if it’s in my throat, and I bite down on my lips to keep from being sick. I’ve got to keep it together, and I can’t run away. She’s not some nameless addict overdosing in the dark. I can’t stand outside from a distance watching the cops pull up to check out an anonymous tip. There’s nowhere I can run to hide from my biggest fuck-up. I sob, but then I see the watchful look in Chase’s eyes. I have to pull my shit together. I can break down later when it’s over. I have to keep my shit together until the end.
Chase edges forward on his toes, pausing with each step as he moves closer to her body. He lowers down, slow to move. Chase braces himself with one hand on the floor and reaches out with the other. He places two fingers on the side of her throat.
“Is there a pulse?” My voice croaks and then splits into two.
His eyes are wide. “I can’t feel one. Do you have your phone?”
I search the floor with my wild eyes, but it’s buried underneath the disorder. I bite my lips and shake my head. My vision blurs. I stop breathing hard, scared that any movement will cause another shelf to collapse. A chime echoes in the room, and our bodies jolt in place. Chase pulls his phone out of his back pocket with controlled movements and glances at the screen.
“It’s Jagan.”
“What are you going to tell him?” I ask. Right now, I’m a coward. I’d rather confess to the cops why Marcy’s broken body is on the floor than face Jagan.
Chase’s fingers flash across the screen. “I texted him to get over here. I told him to call 911.” Chase slides his phone back in his pocket and teeters in place when a shelf shifts under his feet. He freezes, catching his balance, his hand lifts in the air. He stares at me, and I hold my breath for him.
“Good thing I surf,” he quips. “Can you move?” Chase looks at my feet. A couple of boxes tipped over behind me, but luck gave me a rare break. The bulk of it fell in the opposite direction—all on Marcy.
“I think I can.” A sob escapes my throat. My feet refuse to obey my head, and I stand there, staring at Chase. I can’t stomach looking at Marcy any longer. It pains me to see anybody in distress, and then my outraged mind pokes me with stinging thoughts. It’s not your fault. Don’t forget what the bitch tried to do to you before she ended up crushed and bleeding. Don’t you ever forget that.
Chase makes it back to the end of the aisle, and I hear him one aisle over, moving through the debris to the far end. His cautious footsteps approach me from behind. Chase picks his way through the mess, careful where he steps. His strong hands reach out toward me.
“I’m going to grab hold of you.” He grabs my waist, turns me to face him, and then lifts me up with little effort. I cling to him, burying my face against his strong shoulder. The last few days have been a waking nightmare that won’t end. I hold him tight, promising myself I won’t make the mistake of watching Chase walk away from me again. We have to stick together.
Chase carries me over to the steel door, and he places me down before he props open the door. I rest against the cold wall, the cutting temperature passing through my thin shirt. The chill rejuvenates me and makes me myself again. It calms the trembling nerves in my body as my breathing slows down to normal.
“Vicki, what happened?” he asks.
“She cornered me. She tried to rape me.”
Chase gives me a look that’s hard to interpret. My stomach drops. He doesn’t believe me. He doesn’t believe that a woman can do that to another woman. I may not know how, but I’ve no doubt Marcy knew, and that warped cunt was going to demo on me.
“If you don’t believe me…” I start.
“No, I believe you,” he says quickly, “I’m just sorry that she tried.” Chase looks away. “I know how sick she can be.”
The hate boils up inside of me again. What has Marcy put Chase through? I reach out for him, and he sits beside me, holding me tight.
“It’s okay, Vicki,” he whispers. His warm hand rubs wide circles on my cold back.
Chase doesn’t realize that I’m trying to comfort him too. I want him to know that we’ll both survive, and later, thrive. We’re going to get through this together. We’ll look back and celebrate, delighted that we cut all the toxic people out of our lives. I kiss his face and hug him near me. But instead, my tears wet his flushed cheek.
The door opens, but we can’t immediately see who is entering. Jagan takes a step into the room, followed by Rudi. Her wide eyes scan the mess, but she doesn’t immediately see the problem. When Rudi sees Marcy, her hand covers her mouth, muffling a gasp. She tugs Jagan’s sleeve,
and his gaze leaves us. His eyes narrow as he stares in the direction of Rudi’s outstretched finger. I can’t look over there again.
“I think she’s dead,” I whisper.
Jagan delivers a sharp look in our direction that stops my tears. He studies us with a look so hard, as if this is our fault. Jagan always thinks I’m in the wrong and never that trouble trails after me.
“Don’t move. All of you.” He glances at Rudi. “You brought your purse?”
“You asked me to work late,” her voice quivers. “You said I could go home.”
He scoffs as she grips the straps. “Give me a mirror.”
Jagan holds his hand out as Rudi digs through her bulging bag. She places the mirror in his hand, and he slips it into his jacket pocket.
Jagan climbs over the mess as if he’s strolling across campus. He really doesn’t give a shit about safety. A shelf moves as he steps toward Marcy, and the metal shelf balancing over his head tilts downward. Jagan catches it in one hand and holds still. Watching him feels like an hour has passed until he lowers the piece of metal to the floor. He bends over Marcy and holds the mirror under her nose.
“Rudi, call an ambulance. Tell them there’s a faint pulse.”
The pit in my gut dissolves into air, but my troubles have only begun. Jagan continues to check Marcy without moving her. Chase starts forward, but Jagan tells him no.
“It’s too dangerous, Chase.” Jagan’s gaze softens. “Stay put, son.”
Chase’s throat bobs, and he blinks his eyes twice before looking away. I’ve never heard Jagan speak to any student with any kind of affection. He’s always been the trickster. A medicine man selling snake oils and dreams to kids who believe they will be the next megastars. This is yet a different Jagan. My body relaxes as I tell myself it might not be so bad.
“What happened?” Jagan’s tone is nasty, ready to accuse us of a heinous crime. The hard, tight pit sinks back into my gut.
Chapter Two
Vicki
I look over, and I realize everyone is staring at me.
“Marcy attacked me,” I whisper. Jagan tugs his ear, and I speak up. “She tried to rape me. She had me pinned down. I got away as the shelves tipped over.” My voice rises to an ear-shattering pitch. “It wasn’t my fault.”
For a moment that lasts an eternity, Jagan stares at me without pity. He has to believe me. I couldn’t have made it up.
“This cannot get out,” he replies firmly.
What the fucking fucked-up shit is this? Jagan has made his priorities clear in one sentence. He shows little concern for Marcy or me. I’m whirling inside my head with astonishment at his coldness. Seriously, what an asshole. Marcy could’ve died. I could have been killed brutally by a psycho lunatic. But before I can tell Jagan to take a long shit in the woods until he’s human again, Chase goes off.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Chase gestures around the room with hands waving. “Vicki was attacked, and she’s not moving. You have to be an insensitive asshole. You spew that love and kindness shit. Try listening to it sometime instead of repeating it by rote, you bastard.”
Jagan’s mouth is set in a thin line. Standing up, he doesn’t give a shit if another shelf falls down on top of him. He strides over to Chase and grabs him by the upper arm. Cursing, Chase yanks his arm out of Jagan’s grasp. Jagan’s eyes flare as he grabs Chase by the wrist, twisting it, and doesn’t let go.
“No one talks,” hisses Jagan. “Do you want to go to prison? Either of you?” He glares at me as I hunch down, making my body smaller. “Marcy may be sick, but she doesn’t have a documented history of drug abuse, and her parents…” He pauses, looking into Chase’s eyes. “Just keep your mouths shut.”
My breath catches. “Prison? I didn’t do anything wrong. She attacked me. She tried to…” My voice fails as I cover my face with my trembling hands. Wait, there’s hope. I yank my hands away and look up at Jagan. “It’s on her phone.”
Outside the building, the sound of sirens interrupts the heavy tension in the basement. Flashing red lights illuminate the grim room through the tiny basement windows. We halt our argument, too scared to move, as if it would attract unwanted attention.
Jagan lets Chase go. “Not a word,” he says, “I do the talking.”
Jagan hurries through the chaos. The man doesn’t care about his safety at all as his feet slip and lurch over the broken shelves. He grabs at the crushed VHS tapes beside Marcy’s shoulder. His breath increases as he pitches tapes over Marcy’s prone body. With a satisfied smile, Jagan lifts up her phone in his hand. He stares at it as if it’s a rare jewel, and the glint in his eyes makes a sick lump race up my throat.
A stampede of heavy footsteps race down the concrete stairs, and the exit door on the opposite end of the hallway opens with a swoosh. Jagan shoves the phone into his jacket pocket as soon as we hear someone call out.
“Hello? EMS here.”
Jagan gives us a sharp look that dares us to speak. This will seem like a misdemeanor later if we cross him. He kneels down over Marcy’s prone body, and his hands hover over her pale face.
“In here!” he shouts in a forceful panic. “The end of the hall! Good God. Please help us!”
Shit. I didn’t know he could act.
Two EMS workers hurry into the room, lugging their gear, and stop to assess the situation. The man stares at us while the woman steps toward Jagan.
“There was an accident.” Flailing his hands in haphazard circles, Jagan stares at the woman. “Oh God. She’s not breathing.”
Her authoritative voice is steady as she brings him down. “Sir, stay where you are.”
On cue, a piece of shelving falls and crashes against the concrete floor. The metallic racket makes us jump as the EMS workers look up at the ceiling.
“Not good,” says the woman. “Sir, don’t move. We’re coming to help you. Did you say she wasn’t breathing?”
Jagan wipes his face with his hands and sniffs. “Yes. Oh God, yes.” The EMS worker eases her way toward him through the wreckage.
More EMS workers enter the room with stretchers and first aid kits. They make tiny movements around the room while VHS tapes crunch underneath the soles of their boots.
I lose it. I don’t shout or cry. I slide down to the floor like my knees are rubber. My body is too distraught to stay upright, and my emotions are burnt down to ashes. I’m conscious and aware of what people are doing, but I simply cannot function.
“Vicki!” Chase pulls me into his arms before I can hit my head on the floor. “It’s okay, baby. I got you.”
My body flips and flops like I have no bones in my muscles while Chase guides me to the floor inch by inch. A medic immediately walks over, and I might’ve blacked out for a moment.
“Was she hit by the debris?” she asks Chase and then Rudi, “What happened here?”
“They were in the room when we arrived,” replies Rudi. Her eyes widen when she looks at Jagan, and immediately, she shuts up. My head is lolling about my neck. I could force myself to pull it together if I tried hard enough. But I can’t. I just can’t anymore.
“She fainted,” the medic states out loud. Chase tries to get near me, but the woman holds out her arm to prevent him. The medic addresses one of her coworkers. “Charlie, help get these people out of the room.”
Chase and Rudi are led out with two of the workers. I’m strapped into a transport chair, tilted back, and carried out of the room. Jagan is in the hallway, giving a detailed report to one of the medics.
“I was looking for Vicki,” he forces himself to speak evenly. “We had an appointment, and she missed it. I was concerned. Vicki never misses her appointments. She’s been working late, so I decided to check here. I opened the door as the shelf toppled over. Vicki was able to jump clear, but Miss Bowen…” Jagan covers his eyes with his hands. He’s silent for a minute as he composes himself. “Will she recover?”
The medic gives her colleague a look. “We can’t say at this poi
nt, sir. Does she have an emergency contact?”
“That would be me.”
The medic places her hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be taking her to St. Joseph’s General. Do you want to ride in the ambulance?”
Jagan shakes his head. “I have to assist my students.” He glances over at us. “My admin Rudi McCoy will go.”
Rudi’s eyes are rounder than a full moon as she clutches her purse straps. Her expression changes from alarm to resignation to eagerness. Rudi takes the chance to go, following the medic up the stairs quickly. I guess an ambulance ride is preferable to speaking with Jagan.
I refuse a trip to the hospital. I assure the medic it’s only nerves.
“If she’s not doing well,” Chase tells her, “I’ll take her there myself.”
Reassured, the medic returns to the basement to check for occupants and gives strict instructions to keep the area blocked off. Security shows and runs over to Jagan for orders as two ambulances pull away.
