Devastated

by MIA HEINTZELMAN

  Devastated

  The Wastelands Series Book 1

  Mia Heintzelman

  Devastated

  Copyright © 2020 by Mia Heintzelman

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, xerography, or in any information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  First Levi Lynn Books edition June 2020.

  Levi Lynn Books can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, visit our website at www.miaheintzelman.com.

  Editing by Faith Freewoman

  Cover design and Formatting by Tangled Covers

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  ISBN: 978-0-9990493-8-9

  Name: Heintzelman, Mia, author.

  Title: Devastated / Mia Heintzelman

  Description: Mia Heintzelman | Las Vegas: Mia Heintzelman, 2020.

  Subjects: Romance | Dark fiction.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For the roses who grew through concrete.

  Contents

  About Devastated

  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

  Also by Mia Heintzelman

  About the Author

  Newsletter

  About Devastated

  ***Devastated is a 30,000-word dark/mature high school romance novella with a bully/suspense twist. This is the first book in the Wastelands Academy Series. Contains foul language, sexual scenes, and mention of suicide; any sex featured is consensual.

  I’m used to being the new girl.

  Every time Dad gets restationed, it’s the same routine—keep my head low and be invisible until the next move. Except, despite the uniform, I don’t have the money or the complexion to blend in with the devastatingly rich and beautiful students gracing the halls of Desert Badlands Academy.

  It’s bad enough that, before my first day, I let Xander Gale give me a handy introduction in a darkened hallway of his home. Even if he is hot, I keep telling myself I don’t need any distractions. My scholarship is riding on finishing up the year here.

  But when I see him looking at me, I still hope we can pick up where we left off.

  Only, now his lingering stares have caught the attention of the other sinister members of The Crows—Jorden Battle and Marshall Landers. All beautiful disasters, gods, and idols of Badlands—or Wastelands—who feast on the innocent.

  It’s all my fault.

  Marshall caught me watching Izabelle Waters. He’s made a game out of taking whatever he knows I want just to see me scramble. And for what? To be the King of The Crows?

  Now there’s going to be a feeding. He wants me to ruin Izabelle with the whole school watching.

  I’m not going to allow it.

  Not when my future relies on it. Not when she’s the first girl I ever really wanted. Not when the last girl we videoed ourselves ruining is now dead.

  Chapter One

  Izzy

  For someone whose life was in a constant state of change, I should have been better at adjusting. I should have been able to slap on a smile, slip into my thick skin, and be the new girl for the fifth time without a second thought—at least for Dad’s sake.

  Except everything about this time felt different.

  Usually, like clockwork, every two years it was a new school. With it, another quaint little two-bedroom rental with a rickety, stiff twin bed. And, as always, the sidewinding battle to snag myself space in some town’s carefully woven fabric.

  But this time Dad was deploying for six months and I was going to be on my own.

  “I can hear you narrating in your head…” Dad’s bushy brows lifted impossibly high, but he didn’t take his eyes off the road. He didn’t have to. He knew me better than anyone else on the planet. Ever since I was eight, it’s been only us—a decade’s worth of Dad knowing what I was thinking without me having to say a word.

  “It’s really not going to be that bad, Izz. I promise. I’ve known Quincy since before you were born. He’s a good guy, and it makes me feel better about this whole boarding school thing, knowing you’ll have a support system close by.”

  “…so you keep telling me.”

  The gravelly road made a sudden sharp curve and Dad overcorrected, sending the car fishtailing and kicking up desert dust. “Shit.” He stomped on the brake and pumped the gas like he was in some chase scene in an action movie, except with his arm crowbarred across me until the car finally slowed and straightened out. But as he leaned all the way forward against the steering wheel and squinted into the light, the dust began to settle, and Gale Manor came into view.

  “Holy—”

  “Watch your mouth. I’m still your father.” Dad winked as he eased the car around the circular drive and parked next to the stairs leading up to the door.

  My mouth fell wide open as I stared at a monstrosity with pillars, dormers, and far too many windows to be on one side of a home. It was one of those great big, gaping houses. The ones that look more like an ode to Tara from Gone with the Wind or Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, than an inhabitable place for normal people.

  “I thought you said you served in the military with him. This is not some middle-class, two-story house. It’s a damn mansion, or…a brothel.”

  At this, Dad shook his head, laughing, and turned to me. “I’m getting a bit worried about the places your mind goes. What have you done with my sweet, innocent daughter? Because I don’t know where you get this stuff. Brothels? Really?”

  I left the topic right out there in left field where it belonged and peered down at my dress—yes, dress. Black, knee-length, with cap sleeves, and the only formal article of clothing I owned. The last time I wore it, the hem puddled around my calves.

  “He did say ‘manor,’” Dad inserted himself, uninvited into my thoughts. “I hoped you would wear something with color. You used to love purple and wear the amethyst ring I got you, but…I guess anything is better than your usual uniform of black pants and a black shirt.”

  “Dad, we’re in the middle of the desert in Nevada and we’re visiting someone’s plantation. I feel like I should be wearing a fancy Kentucky Derby hat and a frilly dress. What’s his son like? Is he a pretty little silver spoon?”

  I massaged my temples. I could feel myself shutting down, my heart going haywire as it knocked around in my chest. My leg did this weird, nervous, tic-like bounce. The whole stick-out-like-a-sore-thumb fear crawled up under my skin and settled there.

  Of course, this was the moment when light from the house glinted off the car window as the front door flew open and the Stepford Family stood framed in the doorway. Tall, brooding husband. Check. Flawless and fit ladies-who-lunch wife. Check. Fluffy white dog. Check. Disarmingly hot, fuckboy son. Check.

  Holy check.

  The perfect little platinum blond family livin
g in the perfect manor.

  Awesome. If everyone at Desert Badlands Academy looks like them, my brown skin might as well be a flashing beacon, even in my uniform.

  Dad hopped out of the car first and practically broke a sweat getting to his friend, while my hand was still clutched around the car door handle.

  “Come on Izzy, let’s go,” he called.

  A full ten-second mental countdown later, and I finally cracked the door, stood, and walked the few feet to the steps where Mrs. Fitness America greeted me first. She grabbed me into a tight hug with her wiry arms cinched around me. Light bounced off her glossy, bone-straight mane, sheared just below her slender shoulder blades. Her warm blue eyes peered into me.

  “Oh, Derek, she’s beautiful. I can’t believe how much she’s grown up,” she purred, and I halfway expected her to pinch my cheeks or wiggle my chin. “Eighteen already. Do you remember me, honey? I’m Evelyn Gale.”

  I gave a cursory smile but managed to keep my mouth shut. Dad was doing enough talking for both of us.

  “Yep,” he sighed. “This is her final year. She’s all set to start at Colorado State in the fall. If all goes well at Desert Badlands and she’s set for the Equestrian program there.”

  While Dad continued giving them the lowdown on my life plans, I scrutinized the Gales. Everything about them oozed luxury and entitlement. It was in the way they held themselves with an air of effortlessness, like they never worried about anything—never needed to. Their clothes were crisp, but polished and easily spotted for their quality and the lavish lifestyle they intimated.

  They were put-together, well-kept people, from their defined bone structure and shimmery hair to their alabaster skin tone and lithe frames. Porcelain dolls. Loaded, filthy rich, porcelain dolls to be careful with.

  Just for a moment, I wondered if they would be careful with me.

  Once Dad temporarily reached his cap on bragging about me, I got handed off to Quincy Gale, Desert Storm comrade and knower of no spatial boundaries. He hugged me way too hard and too long, and I was completely surprised when he did lift my chin.

  “And look at these eyes,” he said. “You’ve got a heartbreaker on your hands, Derek. We’ll definitely have to keep an eye on her.”

  I forced a smile and backed away.

  Only I almost tripped and the son was right behind me, and for a split second he held me from behind to steady me. I could feel the warmth of his deft hands blaze over my arms as heat seared through me before he turned me to face him.

  Yes, please.

  My heart plummeted into my stomach and I swallowed. I could feel heat wash over my cheeks as I looked up into his summery blue-green eyes. He was a pretty little silver spoon. And a fuckboy. Albeit a considerably upgraded version, with his shimmery hair neatly tapered around the hairline and side-parted, and that sheen of opulence usually relegated to the billionaire variety.

  Oh, and his mouth.

  Jesus. His mouth up close did less-than-appropriate things to me. God, I wish he was a scratch and sniff.

  I peeked up at him, and his eyes darted to my mouth, then back up to my eyes. I did my best to appear unaffected, but my pulse was echoing in my throat.

  What am I doing? This move isn’t about boys.

  And yet my heart didn’t seem to get the memo about this guy.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” I was both annoyed and embarrassed all at once.

  “Don’t be.”

  Good God. Up close, it almost hurt to look directly at him, but I couldn’t turn away as he pulled his full bottom lip between his teeth and the corner of his delicious mouth hitched up in a cocky half-grin.

  Swoon. Why are the bad boys always the hottest?

  After a sharp intake of breath, I actually sighed out loud.

  He released a low rumble of a chuckle, and I could feel the deep timbre low in my belly. “I’m Xander, and you must be the Izabelle Waters I’ve heard so much about.”

  “Izzy.” I swallowed. “I mean, all my friends call my Izzy. You can call me Izzy, but if you don’t want to, you can call me Izabelle. Whatever you want. I’ll answer.”

  I literally want to die. Why do these words keep coming out of my mouth?

  The adorable half-grin spread into a full-blown, sparkly white, full-teeth smile, complete with adorable dimple. The whole thing might as well have been in slow motion for the way his sweeping lashes flapped down.

  Holy fuck.

  “Why don’t we all go inside?” Evelyn suggested. “Dinner is ready in the formal dining room. We’re having Cornish hen.” She glided into the house and everyone else fell in line, but I was still trying to pick my jaw up off the floor as I closed the door behind me.

  The formal dining room suited the exterior of the house with its old money crystal chandelier and Persian rug. That didn’t even include the textured walls and expensive china. In the center, a long wooden table spanned the length of the room and seated at least twenty people that I could tell. In front of each chair, she had laid out the most gorgeous and likely priceless dinnerware flanked with full-etiquette silverware.

  And now I felt like I was in Pretty Woman, because the only thing I could think about was which fork to use so I didn’t embarrass Dad in front of his obscenely rich friend.

  Quincy sat at the head of the table, stoic and commanding. Dad and Xander reserved the seats flanking Quincy for Evelyn and me, choosing to settle in the two facing seats beside them. I moved to sit next to Dad, but Evelyn placed a gentle hand on my shoulder before I could.

  “Why don’t you sit next to Xander, honey?” She slid into the seat between Quincy and Dad. “You two are going to be fast friends, I just know it. He’s been at Desert Badlands all four years, and I’m sure he’ll introduce you around and help you get settled.” She placed her napkin in her lap and peered back up at me through her fringe of thick, fake, black lashes. “Your Dad says you’ve already moved into your room, so you’ll likely become good friends with your roommate, too.”

  “Oh, I don’t have a roommate,” I said. “I figure it’s because I’m starting in the middle of the school year, so everyone’s probably already doubled up, but it’s okay. I kind of like keeping to myself.”

  My gaze snapped to where Xander scooted his chair closer to mine.

  Evelyn’s tight smile didn’t reach her sharp eyes. I got the distinct feeling she didn’t approve, but I couldn’t figure why.

  “Well now that’s a shame,” she said. “Xander’s eighteenth birthday is coming up. He’s a Valentine’s Day baby. Anyway, he’s having a party. We always rent out the Estrada Suite at the country club for him and his friends, so I’m sure he’ll want you there. You’ll meet everyone who’s anyone, but if you need anything, you just come on out here anytime, or let Xander know, and we’ll be glad to help.”

  “Yes. Anytime,” Quincy added before sipping his wine, and I almost missed it, but in my peripheral vision I noticed the edges of Xander’s mouth strain. By the way his jaw jutted slightly, I knew his teeth were clenched.

  My shoulders tensed and my grip tightened around the patterned sterling silverware.

  I nodded my thanks, forked a green bean, and chewed slowly while I considered their family dynamic. Like the finely crafted silver between my fingers, I sensed the beauty and quality of this traditional, heirloom American family was indeed in good condition—original and unaltered, but not without some imperfections. I knew this wasn’t the closed-door version.

  I mean, what I was seeing was what everyone on social media portrays with their glossy, laughing pictures of the perfectly curated lives they want you to believe they have. But the people who know the other side usually get to see the real stuff. The burnt food, the ceiling leak in the middle of the living room, the post-breakup mashed potatoes and sour cream overeating.

  A wave of sadness washed over me, and I didn’t know how I was going to deal with the reality of not seeing Dad every day. If there’s one thing we’ve always been with each other, it’s real. W
e’ve been there, present, whether good or bad, happiness or heartbreak, just us two. And now it was going to feel like a million miles divided us.

  When I looked up, Dad was smiling at me because he knew what I was thinking. The whole intuition thing still functioning on all cylinders. I took another bite of hen and shook my head, stifling a grin.

  Why can’t they just eat chicken like normal people?

  “So, tell me, Izzy…do you have any friends or a boyfriend back home?” Quincy asked, which completely irritated me because I felt like the concept of a military brat was lost on him. By the time I even exchanged a phone number or friended someone online, it was time to leave again. And anyways, why did he even care? It wasn’t like he was interested in the answer.

  I flashed a tight smile. “I have some friends I still keep in touch with. No boyfriend. Never around long enough.” I shot Dad a look before rolling my eyes. Hence the whole good-at-keeping-to-myself skill. Drought still safely intact.

  But then Xander flicked his eyes in the direction of his dad. There was fury in them.

  Quincy nodded, yielding to his son. “Ah…that’s just as well.”

  “Do you mind if I excuse myself? I’d like to show Izabelle the grounds.” Xander stood out of the blue, hedging his tall frame toward me, which caught me completely off guard, since his tone sounded like he’d have rather murdered me than take me on a tour.