Brutal Bully (Bad Bullies Book One): A Dark High School Bully Romance

by Fox, Logan

  Football bled me a lot. Another tooth lost there. A gash out of my left leg. Some cuts deep enough for stitches.

  Blood, blood, blood.

  My hands are coated in it now. Not quite as much as when I’d knocked out my tooth, but somehow it feels even silkier, even stickier, hot enough to scorch.

  I hear Indi’s voice, but it’s so far away.

  “Leave him. Leave him!”

  She sounds angry. She shouldn’t be; Marcus is my best friend.

  I can’t let him die.

  I keep my hands over the hole in his chest, trying to ignore the way his blood keeps oozing through my fingers. He’s pale as a sheet, his body shivering under me like he’s got a fever.

  “Hey,” I say, not even sure if he can hear me. “Where you going?”

  Marcus moves his lips, but the only thing that comes out is frothy pink foam.

  “Stay here a bit. Help’s coming,” I tell him.

  Indi grabs my arm, tries to tug me away. “Leave him!” she yells.

  But I can’t. Marcus is my best friend.

  I can’t let him die.

  “Briar, p-please,” she sobs, falling to her knees beside me. “Leave him.”

  But I can’t. Marcus is…

  Those dark eyes stop blinking. His lips stop moving.

  Marcus was my brother.

  Chapter Fifty

  Indi

  I really gotta find out what the hell these guys put in their tranquilizers. I’ve never felt this relaxed, this zoned out, this…detached.

  Not entirely true, I guess.

  I was in almost this exact same spot when I last felt this way. Back then it was my mother’s body they were wheeling out of the smoking ruins of my house, not Addy’s.

  Marcus is already in the ambulance. I heard someone say they’re taking him to the hospital. Dunno why — psycho fuck was already long dead by the time they pitched up here.

  But then Addy disappears into an ambulance and they drive her away too.

  Guess Lakeview was all out of mortuary vans tonight. Actually, now that I think about it, I can’t remember if they took mom away in an ambulance or a—

  “Indi.”

  I twist slowly, and tip back my head. It’s night time already, but with all the police cars, ambulances, and the firetruck around — whose presence I have to get someone to explain to me before the night is out — Briar looks like a character in one of those cyberpunk movies where the whole city is basically just one big neon sign.

  “Briar,” I say.

  He steps closer, but almost reluctantly. “They want us down at the police station to give our statements.” There’s a clink from his hands — he’s busy toying with his keys. “Want a lift?”

  I consider for a while, watching the play of red and blue on his face. Maybe they gave him something for his shock too, because he looks ready to wait all night for my answer.

  “Can I drive?” I ask.

  “No.” He shrugs. “You’ve been sedated.”

  “So have you.”

  “Can barely feel it.” Another shrug. “Plus, you’re not on my insurance.”

  I stand, and it takes me forever just to take two steps closer to him. “You just don’t want me driving your car.”

  “Not tonight.”

  “But someday?”

  His eyes lock onto mine. He reaches for me, and it takes us both a moment to realize I’m too far away. We step forward at the same time, and then I’m in his arms. I wish I could feel it. I’m sure it would be a wonderful moment, full of comfort and bliss.

  But I’m still dead inside. Those maggots have stopped moving, but I have a sneaking suspicion that’s only because they’re sleeping.

  I’m not sure if they’ll ever wake up again. I’m hoping they won’t.

  I don’t want to think about that. What I want is for this day to be over. I want tomorrow to come.

  Briar turns, his arm over my shoulder as he leads me to his Mustang. No one stops us — other than the bump on my head which, apparently didn’t give me a concussion — I don’t really have any wounds.

  Even those two bite marks turned out to be much shallower than I’d imagined. No need for stitches. I did get a tetanus shot, though. Briar must have too. Turns out humans have filthy mouths.

  I glance back over my shoulder, my eyes tracing the broken outline of my house. My other hand goes to the necklace that’s still hanging from my neck.

  All I want to do is go home and sleep, but I know the police need information.

  Go to sleep, my girl.

  Have pleasant dreams.

  Tomorrow is a new day.

  This time, when I look ahead, I don’t see darkness. Maybe it’s the tranquilizers singing through my veins, but there’s some kind of numb hope seeping into me as Briar opens the passenger door.

  I guess I can wait to go to sleep, because I know this time, mom’s promise will come true. Tomorrow, when I wake, it will be a bright new day.

  I peek at Briar through my lashes as he turns the ignition and his Mustang rumbles into life.

  How do I know? Because Briar will be there.

  Epilogue - Indi

  I’ve been zoning out to the clop-clop of our horses’s hooves. When Briar touches my arm, I gasp and wrench myself away.

  We stare at each other for a moment before he breaks into a wide smile. “I’m gonna have to ask for my money back,” he says.

  I frown at him.

  “They said, and I quote, a ‘relaxing, romantic horseback trail’.”

  I let out a rueful chuckle and shrug at him, facing forward again. “I love it.”

  “You do?”

  “It’s perfect, Briar.” I glance at him, looking away before our eyes can meet. “Although I still don’t know how many palms you had to grease to pull this off.”

  “What, school?” He snorts. “We’ve both got B-averages. We’ve both just gone through a traumatic—”

  He cuts off, and when he speaks again, there’s no mirth left in his words. “You needed a break.”

  “So did you.”

  “Yeah, I’m selfish like that, my little virgin.”

  I snort this time, and shake my head. “Never grows old, does it?”

  He leans over and pokes a finger in my side, making me twist over in my saddle and my horse take a side step as if she thinks she’s next.

  “Stop it,” I snap, scowling at him.

  “Only if you promise not to be upset.”

  My scowl turns into a frown. “Why would I be—?”

  His expression turns serious. “Because I lied to you.”

  Something wriggles around in my guts, and I wonder briefly if the maggots are back. But I shove that thought away before it can latch on.

  “About what?” I say, trying to keep my voice airy.

  “I don’t like you, Indi.”

  Luckily, my mare is well trained. Even when I stiffen, she just carries on plodding down the forest path at the same pace as before. I, however, almost don’t duck in time to avoid being swept away by a low-hanging branch.

  “Um…okay,” I say, forcing a swallow. “And you had to tell me this during a romantic horse ride through the forest?”

  “I couldn’t keep living a lie,” he says.

  If his tone weren’t so goddamn serious, I’d be convinced this was all part of a foolishly elaborate prank at my expense. He’s never outgrown those, not in the four months we’ve been dating. Maybe he never will.

  “Well, I’m glad it’s all out in the open,” I say. “So, should we turn around, or do you still want to have that picnic you promised me?”

  “Oh, we’re having the picnic,” he says, sounding almost grumpy. “But don’t think I’m gonna enjoy it.”

  “Pity,” I say, lifting my chin. “I was really looking forward to your charming banter while we snacked on some pretzels and warm champagne.”

  He chuckles low in his throat. “You thought there’d be champagne?”

  “Th
ere’d better be fucking champagne.” I glare at him until he looks at me, and then I intensify it even more. “Else I’m not taking another step.”

  I reign in my mare, and Briar’s gelding plods on a few steps before he brings him to a stop. He looks over his shoulder, clearly exasperated with me. “Fine, there’s champagne. But it’s definitely warm, and possibly even flat by now.”

  “I said we could trot.” I push my knees into my mare’s ribs, and she starts forward. “But nooooo. Briar’s a little chicken shit bitch, isn’t he?”

  “You’re gonna pay for that,” he murmurs quietly, but also just loud enough for me to hear.

  I smirk to myself, shaking my head. We’ve been riding through this gorgeous forest just south of the Devil’s Spine for the last three hours and it truly has been everything Briar said it would be. I’m almost starting to feel like myself again, and that’s saying a lot. These past few months have been difficult. Sleeping pills helped, as did the anti-anxiety medication Briar’s doctor gave me for the panic attacks I kept having. But there was always that feeling lurking deep inside me, like there was something bad waiting just around the corner. That it would pounce as soon as I let my guard down.

  Briar seems to be doing fine, but I can never tell with him. I mean, we’re not living together or anything, so I don’t know what he’s like the times I’m not with him. He’s always been one to put on a brave face, so he could be hiding a ton of pain about losing his friend.

  And not just a friend. A half-brother. A fact I’m still trying to wrap my head around.

  One of many, in fact.

  A lot of shit came to light when the police started their investigation. Brandon Baker, Marcus’s father, was arrested for multiple jewelry heists and as an accessory to murder. They’re also opening a case against him for the possible homicide of Natalie Briar after Brandon started spouting some shit about being glad that he’d dealt with that whoring bitch.

  Briar told me it was an accident, and that’s what everyone thought. But one of the witness statements mentioned that Natalie’s brake lights came on long before she went off the side of the road.

  Her car, however, never slowed down.

  The wreckage of her vehicle has long since been harvested for scrap metal, but I guess everyone would like to heap as many charges on Brandon’s head as judicially possible to make sure the creep never gets out of jail.

  One case reopened, another case closed.

  And boy, were the police in Lakeview only too happy to archive my mother’s homicide file. After the insurance company began pressuring them to take another look at the evidence, an internal investigation revealed that several of the officers working the case had been paid off to screw up the case.

  All by Marcus’s dad, of course.

  Lured with some time knocked off his sentence, Brandon gave a full confession about how he’d forced his son to break into people’s homes and steal the jewelry Briar’s father had made for them.

  Briar told me about the beatings Marcus got. Seems they were very real indeed. Marcus had hospital files thick as an encyclopedia with multiple instances of domestic abuse injuries.

  He was just as good as Briar at keeping up appearances. Plus, it seemed he could endure a shit load more pain when he smoked that weed vape of his. Healed faster, too.

  With such an extensive history of abuse, I almost feel sorry for Marcus.

  Then I remember what it felt like when he bit my breast, and the feeling goes away.

  If Marcus had lived, he would have been charged with arson, rape, and first-degree murder. They matched his DNA to hair, skin, and semen samples found on my mother’s body.

  I feel less sorry for him every day.

  “Hungry?”

  I snap out of the past and come back to the present feeling a little glum for all my macabre introspection.

  Until I see the suggestion of a cabin up ahead.

  “Is that…?”

  “I don’t like picnics,” Briar announces like he’s in a confessional booth at mass.

  I spur my mare into a trot, too eager to see what’s ahead to be bothered if Briar’s keeping up. As soon as her hooves plod on flagstones, I slide off my mare and absently loop her reign around a nearby tree branch.

  This is exactly how I always pictured the grandmother’s cabin in Red Riding Hood. From the log walls to the smoke curling from the chimney.

  “It’s gorgeous,” I breathe, hurrying to the front door.

  It opens at a push from my fingers, and swings inward without a sound.

  I expected a moodily lit interior, but it’s bright as noon inside here. Downlights gleam from their studs in a pine ceiling, and peek out from behind furniture.

  There’s a massive three-seater sofa in the middle of the living area, facing a lit fireplace that crackles as the flames dance for me.

  My riding boots echo on wooden floorboards when I move into the space. It’s all one open-plan layout, except for a small room tucked behind the kitchen’s oven range and backsplash.

  It has to be a bathroom, because the west side of the cabin is dominated by a king-sized bed straight out of a fairytale with its elaborately carved mahogany footboard and rich, velvet headboard.

  There are rose petals on the sheets. Champagne in a bucket on the nightstand. The entire space is scented with roses and wood smoke.

  Hands slither around my waist and draw me back against Briar’s warm body.

  “Surprise,” he murmurs into my ear.

  “My fuck,” I say, and then instantly regret how my words seem to defile this sanctum.

  “There’ll be enough time for that later,” Briar says. “But first…” He releases me, slips past, and heads toward the fire.

  I was expecting a campsite, not a fucking cabin. I had a bag packed and everything.

  But this?

  “Hang on,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “You just told me you didn’t like me. Why’d you go to all this trouble, then?”

  “I thought it would lessen the sting, my little virgin.”

  My cheeks are suddenly suffused with heat.

  Briar turns to look at me, a cheeky smile tugging at his wide mouth.

  “Briar…” I want to tell him I’m not ready, because, fuck, that’s exactly what it feels like.

  I know he’s been patient. I know I’ve been holding back. But he promised me he would wait.

  He promised.

  I open my mouth, but before I can say a word, he lifts a finger to his lips.

  “I want to show you something,” he says.

  My eyebrow quirks up. “What is it?”

  He cocks his head at me. “If I told you, it would ruin the surprise.”

  I inhale a deep, grounding breath, squeezing my arms around me as I give this gorgeous cabin another once-over.

  I could live here. I don’t give a fuck about TV or wi-fi, or anything else.

  I could live here.

  But only if Briar was going to live with me.

  I look at the floor, closing my eyes as I chastise myself for my own naivety.

  This is no place to live. We’re both going to university next year. Briar to become a psychologist, me to study microbiology. Or history. Or art. We can maybe make it out here once a quarter, but—

  “Open your eyes.”

  They fly open at his command, and then narrow warily.

  Nothing’s different. Except…

  “What’s behind your back?”

  He smirks at me. “I meant what I said.”

  “About what?”

  “I don’t like you anymore, Indigo Virgo.”

  I bristle at my full name, but bear it out of sheer curiosity. “Go on…”

  Briar’s smirk fades, and is replaced with a deadly serious expression.

  I know this is all some ruse, but that doesn’t stop the flutters blooming in my stomach.

  Flutters. Because it’s not worms burrowing around down there anymore.

  It’s butterf
lies.

  Briar drops to one knee, bringing out a deep-blue velvet box and flipping it open all in one smooth motion.

  My hands are at my throat, and I don’t remember how they got there. “Did you practice that or something?” I ask weakly.

  “Too many times to count.” He clears his throat, and his eyes dart to the box.

  Which I haven’t even looked at. I’ve been transfixed on his eyes this entire time. But when I look down, my legs cave in, and I sink to the floor in front of him.

  “Briar…”

  “I don’t like you anymore, Indi. Maybe I never did. I fucking love you.” He moves the box closer to me, as if I’m not admiring the diamond-encrusted sapphire ring he’s holding out for me quite enough for his tastes. “You’d better marry me, or I’ll make your life a living hell.”

  I reach for the ring, but he snaps the box closed before I can take it. My eyes fly up to his, and I scowl deeply at him. “What the fuck?” I snap.

  “You don’t get the ring until you say yes.”

  “Well let me see how it looks first.”

  “You’re shitting me,” he says through a laugh. “This is all hinging off whether the ring looks good on your finger?”

  I shrug, and waggle my left hand in his face. “And if it fits. If it doesn’t fit…”

  He glares at me for a moment, and then flips open the box again. “How do you always manage to make me so fucking mad?”

  He takes out the ring, hesitates, and then slides it onto my finger.

  Oh my fuck. It’s absolutely fucking gorgeous. I sniff, twist my hand around a bit, and go to take it off.

  “Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “This isn’t gonna cut it.”

  Briar lets out a deep-throated growl. Before I have time to squeal, he scoops me into his arms and charges with me into the bedroom. I bounce hard on the bed, sending rose petals fluttering into the air beside me.

  I grab the ring and try to yank it off, but Briar clambers onto the bed and pins me down.

  “You’ll wear the fucking ring,” he says, voice so low it’s more of a growl than actual words. “And you’ll fucking like it.”