Page 191 of Depraved Boys

Prakash shook his head. “I can’t go through this again.”

A heavy fist banged on the door. “Prakash Kashaayah?”

“Who’s asking?” said Leopold.

“Detective Sergeant Banner. Can we come in?”

Prakash strode to the door, but Leopold grabbed him by the arm and whispered, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to make the best of a shitty situation.”

My heart beat so fast, it nearly exploded in my chest. Scenarios whirled in my mind, each as ridiculous as the other. Geraldine and Bianca had attacked Ashley and placed her in this room to teach Prakash a lesson for having saved me after the initiation. Ashley had approached Mr. Byrd and tried to blackmail him for another twenty-five thousand pounds.

Prakash opened the door, and the officers stormed inside. They stopped the moment they saw Ashley on the bed, and one of them radioed for help.

The sergeant turned to Prakash and said, “Prakash Kashaayah, you are under arrest on suspicion of grievous bodily harm…”

The rest of his words faded into a blur.

It didn’t matter that there was a shitload of evidence against Prakash and that we’d found my blackmailing sister naked and half-dead in his room.

Prakash was innocent, and if we didn’t do something now, a condition for grievous bodily harm would be the least of his troubles. My hands clutched at my chest, and my breath froze at my next thought.

The police might put two and two together and convict him of Corrine’s murder.

END OF BOOK TWO

READ BOOK THREE

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

If I hadn’t wedged my back against the wall of Prakash’s bedroom, I might have fallen onto my ass. My knees had stopped supporting my weight, and my breathing had stopped the moment the police sergeant placed my boyfriend under arrest.

A male constable positioned Prakash’s arms behind his back and fastened cuffs around his wrists, as though he was a dangerous criminal who needed restraining. Throughout this, Prakash’s dull, black eyes remained on mine. His posture slackened, as though he had resigned himself to this fate.

“The cuffs aren’t necessary.” Leopold stepped between the officers and me, obscuring my view. He stood half a head taller than the sergeant and with a broader, more menacing physique. “Mr. Kashaayah is more than capable of walking quietly to your vehicle.”

I blinked myself back to awareness and inhaled a deep breath.

He didn’t do it.

Prakash wouldn’t have beaten Ashley half to death.

A tiny voice in the back of my head—Dad’s, I think—asked me how much I knew this boy. I didn’t engage with it. Didn’t tell it that my confidence in Prakash was based on a gut feeling and on memories that were barely coming together.

As Leopold continued his attempts to negotiate with the sergeant, the sounds of two female voices somewhere on my left caught my attention. The door opened, revealing two male officers barring the entrance of the room and holding back a crowd of students. They parted to let in a pair of female paramedics.

“She’s unconscious but still breathing.” One of the officers backed away, and the paramedics crowded around Ashley on the bed.

A sigh of relief escaped my nostrils, but the first tendrils of guilt snaked around my windpipe. Mom would hate me for being more concerned about Prakash than about Ashley.

While the paramedics covered her naked body with a blanket, a police officer pushed Leopold aside to let his colleagues escort Prakash to the doorway.

“Wait!” I rushed after them.

Leopold placed a large hand on my shoulder. “Follow Ashley to the hospital. When she’s conscious, you’ll need her to clear Kash’s name.”

I turned around. Sorrow radiated from his concerned, aquamarine eyes, making me wonder if something like this had happened when Corrine Gibbons had accused the kings of rape. “But I should be there when Prak—”