Cruel Read online

  Cruel

  Savannah Heirs

  CoraLee June

  Raven Kennedy

  Copyright © 2019 by CoraLee June & Raven Kennedy

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  For Chris Hemsworth.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  38. Rogue

  Chapter 39

  40. Rogue

  Thank You For Reading

  A Note From The Authors

  Sneak Peek: The Girl Who Cries Colors

  About the Author

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Blood dripped from the corner of my lip. I wiped it away with the back of my hand before asking for more. “You hit like a bitch,” I said with a cruel smile, before bracing myself for the next backhanded slap. She wound back, but luckily, there was no power behind her movements. When she connected with my cheek, the light sting wasn’t worth crying over. I’d had worse.

  Stephanie Palmisano wasn’t creative enough to come up with an insult that actually hurt me. It was always the same. Slut. Trash Whore. Bitch. She recycled the phrases that were shoved down her throat by everyone else at that fucking school, and then regurgitated them at my feet whenever she had an audience. She got off on showing off. Because what was the point of being vicious if you didn’t have anyone to witness it? She must’ve gotten that trait from her daddy, Judge Palmisano. He liked to put people in their places, too.

  She was a pretty little thing, though. Most girls at Smith Academy counted their calories, but she liked to throw them back up. I knew my easygoing smile was pissing her off. It was a little victory, but I clung to it. “You never fucking learn,” she said, before winding back and slapping me again. I just had to hold on for a moment longer. Any second, the coaches would storm the bathroom and break up the fight. Being the principal's daughter meant that the faculty here had to at least pretend to care.

  “You’re weak. You should eat something, Steph,” I said with a snarl.

  I refused to hit her back. Not only because I feared the repercussions, but because I knew the force of my punch would hospitalize her. Unlike her, I was taught how to throw my body into the hit. I knew the spots to target, and I was strong with years of muscles from gymnastics. I could kill her if I had a mind to. But there was that phrase, that nagged me in the back of my mind. You know the one, that bullshit about great power and great responsibility. Just because I could break her body, didn’t mean I should.

  “Fuck you, Scarlett,” she spat, before hitting me one last time. My head knocked back against the tile of the locker room showers. I was still wearing my gray gym uniform, my sweat making the cotton shirt they required us to wear stick to my body. She leaned over me as the crowd of girls watched, and then turned on the faucet above me, forcing icy water from it’s spout. The freezing temperature jolted all my senses. I shivered, which made them laugh harder.

  But they couldn’t see me cry.

  My fists clenched. Just one hit. I wanted to knock her on her ass and make her bleed just a little bit. But I knew the consequences of rage. It could become an addiction if you weren’t careful enough. Or at least, that’s what my mama told me the last time I got into a fight. She threw brochures for an all-girls school on her desk and told me that if she got one more complaint from a member of the school board, I was out.

  She didn’t care that I was being bullied. She cared that people were talking at the cheer fundraiser. How could the preppy parents of Smith Academy trust their asshole teens with Principal Livingston, if she couldn’t handle her own daughter?

  My blood washed down the drain as Stephanie and her group of dimwitted followers left the locker room, each of them dressed in their formal Smith Academy uniforms as they sauntered away. Such a fucking cliché. The mean girls targeted me out of boredom. I didn’t even bother checking my locker. I knew my navy uniform would either be missing or destroyed.

  I dried off as best I could after I sat in the freezing water for a moment. I let my body grow cold and numb as I walked down the hall toward the nurse’s office. Nurse Courtney was a kind woman, too scared to go against the hierarchy of this pretentious school, but nice enough to hide spare uniforms in her desk for occasions like this. I didn’t blame her. Even the teachers feared looking at me for too long. No one wanted to rock the boat with my mama, or associate with the Heir’s public enemy number one.

  The Heirs ran this school. Rogue, Bonham, Godfrey, and Luis. They used to be my best friends, but they threw me away seven months ago. They were the reason for my daily torment.

  “Rough time in gym?” a familiar voice asked to my right.

  I cringed, each hair on my neck standing straight at attention as I tried to steady my breathing.

  Bonham Brodie could practically smell fear. I felt his eyes on my back as I walked faster. I wasn’t in the mood for his games today. I wasn’t in the mood to face any of the Heirs. Bonham came from old money. The kind of money that didn’t require him to work. His perpetual trust-fund family traded stocks worth millions just for fun, and spent their free time building social ladders just to burn them down whenever they felt like it.

  “You not hear me? I’m talking to you. I thought all those etiquette classes your mama made you take were supposed to teach you manners, Scarlett,” he mocked.

  The sounds of his sneakers hitting the tile behind me made my own steps increase in pace. Shit. If Nurse Courtney saw us together, she might not want to give me spare clothes. No one wanted to go up against Bonham. He was known for tearing down reputations. He could start any rumor about you and it would spread through Savannah like the wild fire that took down Mr. Green’s horse stables the past summer. Though I couldn’t confirm it, he was the reason I’d earned my notorious nickname: Trash Whore. I was named after the way my friends threw me away.

  “I’m in a hurry,” I said, while glancing back at him over my shoulder.

  Bonham was classically handsome. His strong jawline and dimpled chin could make anyone purr. He had vibrant green eyes and dirty blond hair, cut short but parted to the side. His Smith Academy’s crest was on his blazer pocket, and his tie was undone, hanging off him in a disheveled, sexy way.

  I felt his fingers wrap around my bicep and I turned around, gasping when my eyes met his furious gaze. He clicked his tongue in disapproval when he saw the dried blood on my lip, and yanked me closer to inspect it. “Another fight, I see,” he said.

  “Just another day,” I growled back before trying to pull myself from his grip. I couldn’t. He held
me too tightly.

  Bonham placed his thumb at my cut, pressing until he made it bleed again. He smeared the blood along my jawline, all while staring at me. “I think blood-red looks good on you, Scar,” he said, letting that cruel edge seep into his expression.

  “It is my favorite color,” I replied sarcastically.

  Bonham looked me up and down again. I recognized that critical eye. It was the same appraising look he’d given me two years ago, when he helped me pick a dress for Luis's birthday party. It was the same look he’d given me when he taught me to ride a bike as a kid, or when he tutored me in math. Assessing. Determined. Focused. It was a look that made me hate myself a little bit. Because, despite them making me a target at that fucked up school, it also gave me hope that my old best friend was still hiding in there somewhere, willing to take on the world alongside me.

  As if he’d suddenly remembered that he didn’t want to touch me, Bonham quickly dropped his hands and looked around the empty halls, like he wanted to make sure no one had seen us together. Fucking prick.

  “I still don’t understand why you don’t hit back,” Bonham said with a shrug before walking past me. I spun to watch his back. “We both know you could kick her ass.”

  I bit my cracked lip, making more blood flow, the crimson drops landing on the tile floor at my feet. Yeah, I could kick her ass. Bonham would know, since he was the one who’d taught me how to fight in the first place. He once told me that all pretty girls should know how to defend themselves and throw a punch. I just never thought that I’d ever have to defend myself from them.

  “Tell Nurse Courtney I said hello,” Bonham called over his shoulder before disappearing down the corner.

  Fuck.

  The Heirs were determined to punish me, and that meant that they reveled in our peers doing most of the work for them. If they knew that I’d been getting help from Nurse Courtney, they might want to make life difficult for her, which was the very last thing that I wanted.

  Aside from hating me, they didn’t like it when I had anyone on my side. It was why no one asked me to homecoming. It was why I couldn’t go to any school games, and why I couldn’t even walk to my locker without having curses and names thrown at me. It was also why every girl in the school looked at me like I’d caught leprosy. They didn't want to catch the guys’ wrath like I had. It was understandable.

  Bonham, Luis, Godfrey, and Rogue didn’t just run the school. They were practically going to inherit all of Savannah. Their parents had the three C’s: cash, connections, and capability. This city was in the palm of their hands.

  By the time I made it to the nurse’s office, the bell had long since rung for the next period. My mama would probably lecture me about my tardiness later. These teachers were the worst narcs ever. Any little thing that happened, and they ran off to Principal Livingston. Just another reason for Mama to be disappointed in me.

  I threw open the door and looked around, relieved when I found that it was empty of other students, but the nurse was behind her desk. Nurse Courtney was a thirty-something ex-debutante. She came from a long line of good Savannah blood, but my mama said she ruined her life when she married beneath her. Her filthy-rich parents cut her off and disowned her for it.

  Now, she was stuck giving out ice packs for fistfights and Tylenol for period cramps to a horde of entitled teenagers. If I were her, I would’ve been bitter as hell. Nurse Courtney looked up from her phone where she sat at her desk, and her eyes immediately widened at my partially soaked, bloody, and bruised self.

  “What happened this time?” she asked, getting up from her seat to come assess me.

  I shrugged. “Same bitch, different day.”

  Nurse Courtney’s lips thinned. “I wish you’d let me report Stephanie.”

  I shook my head and followed Nurse Courtney to the chair while she pulled out some antiseptic and cotton balls. “No, it would only make it worse,” I said.

  “That girl used to kiss your feet. Hell, y’all used to be friends,” she reminded me.

  It was true. I used to hold the entire school in the palm of my hand, all because I was the Heirs’ queen. The Stephanie Palmisanos of the school worshipped me, because they wanted to be me. But the moment Bonham put word out that I was yesterday’s news, they all dropped me like burnt hot cakes.

  As we got older, the guys became notorious for having sex with girls and then tossing them away, but not me. With me, they were always different. I never slept with any of them, but I was part of their inner circle, and I cherished our friendship. Until seven months ago.

  The other girls were jealous, but they wouldn’t have ever dared to be mean to me. Rogue would’ve destroyed them. He was best known for being the destructive yet protective one of the group. No one dared to mess with me and risk pissing him off. Funny how fast things can change.

  I was their friend since we were seven years old. I thought we’d always be together. Now, I was the scum of this prep school, and the entire student body liked to remind me of that everyday. And the girls? They relished in my downfall.

  Nurse Courtney pressed the cotton ball against my lip, making me hiss in pain. She tsked while she went to work cleaning off the blood streak that Bonham had made. It was the first time any of them had touched me for months. I actually got a little sick satisfaction from it, even though he did it to bring me more pain. But then, I’d always been fucked up when it came to them.

  “It won’t always be like this, honey,” she whispered in a low tone, a secret reassurance meant only for me.

  I knew she was right. I knew it was temporary. Graduation was just around the corner. I had the acceptance of a legacy at Harvard and a new life waiting for me.

  So why did it make me sick to think of leaving the guys who were tormenting me?

  “Just gotta survive the next six months,” I said through gritted teeth, hoping I sounded tougher than I felt.

  “Look, I’ll give you a pass to excuse you from your next class. Why don’t you go blow off some steam, sugar?”

  My body perked up. Yeah. That’s exactly what I needed.

  Chapter Two

  It was lucky that Nurse Courtney had given me a pass, because it wasn’t easy skipping class when your mama was the principle. I’d stolen a pack of excuse slips from her office just a few weeks ago for when my anxiety got bad, but a legitimate pass was even better in case Mama asked me later.

  Every time I saw Stephanie’s pleased face and Bonham’s disgusted scowl, my stomach churned with the anxiety that I’d grown so accustomed to. It wasn’t always like that. I wasn’t always so resigned to my place in the world, but I found that it was easier to run than it was to fight. It kind of scared me, if I was honest with myself. I couldn’t keep rolling over and taking this shit, no matter what Mama threatened me with.

  Earlier that morning when I got to my locker, there was a used tampon hanging from the handle. The dried blood made me gag, and when I turned around, I saw a group of Stephanie’s girls laughing. I knew in my gut that one of the guys had put her up to it. It’s what they did—used others to make my life miserable so that they didn’t have to get their hands dirty. Cowards.

  I could feel the joint I’d swiped from Mama’s desk in my pocket. She confiscated it during a locker search the day before, and the moment she had put it in a baggie, I knew it was mine. I’d been stealing things from her office since I learned I could get away with it. Seemed like the universe knew I’d need it today.

  Like any good stoner, I went under the football bleachers to light up. I didn’t smoke often. Mostly when shit just got too much to handle, which seemed to be often lately. I didn’t like having anything in my body that could hurt my chances with gymnastics, but since Mama made me quit and ripped that dream from my fingers, it didn’t really matter anymore.

  The moment the herbal scent hit my nose, I knew it was shitty weed. The preppy kid that bought it probably paid premium price and had no idea that it was dank. Of course, the only reason I kne
w anything about weed in the first place was because Godfrey and Luis liked to indulge. A lot.

  Fuck. Why did everything always remind me of them?

  I put the joint to my lips and inhaled low and slow, letting the smoke sit in my lungs for a bit while I closed my eyes. I held it in my chest until I knew I was going to burst, then exhaled with a cough. Yeah, it was bad. Not bad enough to stop, but bad nevertheless.

  “Getting high under the bleachers? I wonder what Principal Livingston would say about this,” a dark voice said.

  I was laying on the concrete ground and using my backpack as a pillow. With my knees bent and feet planted on the ground, I held my skirt down with my hand before dropping my knees open to get a look at my intruder.

  Rogue fucking Kelly.

  It was a silent understanding that Rogue was the leader of the Heirs. His family dabbled in everything. Oil. Arms. Real Estate. If it had a price tag, the Kelly name had its greedy hands in it. Their fiscal portfolio was so diverse, I wouldn’t know where to start.

  My breath caught at his sudden presence. I had sank into my high, but my pulse raced at seeing him. I was a strange contradiction of tense and relaxed. Rogue was wearing his school uniform, but it looked effortlessly casual. The collar hid the tattoo I knew was creeping up his neck. His hair was wet, like he’d just taken a shower. That’s right, he had gym first period. I nearly slapped myself for knowing his schedule. We weren’t friends anymore, so why did I torture myself with trivial information?