Page 201 of Depraved Boys

I continued eating my chicken biryani, wondering when the girls would give up and return to their seats, but three figures appeared behind them. The large, dark-haired figure of Bruce Wilmington, flanked by the auburn-haired Riley twins. Three of them were on the football team and led the Knights of Brittas Academy.

Bruce rubbed his dimpled chin. “It’s a sad day to see a pair of self-styled kings squabbling like queens, what do you say, Barrett and Jarrett?”

The twin on the left snorted with laughter. “Nice one, Bruce.”

Bruce curled his fingers around his lapels, revealing bruised knuckles.

I sucked in a sharp breath. Were they bruised from continually pounding his fists into Ashley? I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.

“What are you doing, Pigsty?” Bruce cast me a withering glower.

“You’re quite witty for a boor. Did you know that?” After pressing the record button, I held up the phone and zoomed into his hands. “Say something for the camera, Bruce Wilmington.”

“Sorry to hear about your sister.” He winked.

Disgust rippled through my insides, and I made sure to twist my face to encourage him to say more. Meanwhile, I zoomed out to take in his smug features.

Bruce’s face split into a grin. “It looks like she spread herself too thinly—”

“Or too widely if you’re describing her legs,” said the twin on the right.

I curled my lip. How I hated this trio of morons. “Go on… I’m listening.”

“Any disgraced whore would have left the academy, but she hung around like herpes,” said Bruce.

Resting my elbows on the table to steady the recording, I said, “I don’t understand.”

Bruce bared his teeth. “Listen to my words, when the kings finally tire of you, leave Brittas Academy. No one wants to be troubled by something they’ve discarded and long forgotten.”

“Is that why you hurt Ashley?”

The twin on the right stepped in front of Bruce. “Is that why you hurt Ashley?” he said in a baby voice. “She hated your guts, and you’re too stupid to realize it.”

All three of them laughed and returned to their seats. Geraldine and Bianca smirked and followed after them.

I ground my teeth. If that stupid twin hadn’t interrupted, Bruce might have said something incriminating.

“What was that all about?” whispered Leopold.

“Did you see the bruises on his knuckles?” I whispered back.

“Well done,” said Sebastian. “We’ll hand that footage over to the lawyer so that he can pass it onto the police.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Despite our worries about Prakash, a layer of tension evaporated from finally being reconciled with Sebastian. The revelation that he had been in a relationship with Miss Claymore, who had subsequently pestered him for intimacy, had affected my perception of him, no matter how many times I had blamed the woman for getting involved with a child. It hadn’t helped that Sebastian had been in denial about how far Miss Claymore would go to get rid of the competition.

A little voice in the back of my head—Ashley’s, I supposed—asked why he had withheld the revelation about Miss Claymore for so long, but I pushed it aside. He had opened up about the abuse and reported her to the police and helped to get her fired. I couldn’t ask for more.

We lay together in his room, sharing slow kisses and caressing each other to shuddering climaxes before sleeping in each others’ arms. He never pressured me for more, even though I was more than ready to lose my virginity.

The next morning, I awoke sprawled on Sebastian’s chest, enjoying the way his slow heartbeat reverberated against my ear when a heavy fist knocked on the door.

He jerked awake. “Who is that?”

The fist continued to pound.

With a yawn, I slid my hand down his hard stomach and wrapped my fingers around his morning erection. “The last time someone knocked on Prakash’s door like that, it was Bruce Wilmington, complaining that one of the Riley twins had burned himself on a hookah.”