Page 203 of Depraved Boys

“Where do you think Bruce Wilmington and the Riley twins get their inspiration? Snuff films?”

I flinched at the harsh words. “They’re diff—”

“The police aren’t keeping Prakash Kashaayah for so long because of circumstantial evidence. He’s addicted to hurting women and is inspiring others to do the same.”

Grimacing, I clenched my fists, itching to tell him about the footage I had shot of Bruce’s bruised knuckles. But he and the twins dwelled somewhere on this hallway and were most probably listening to the entire conversation.

Instead, I lowered my voice. “Trust me, alright?”

He closed his eyes and turned his head to the wall. “How can I when I’ve already seen this pattern of behavior. Corrine—”

“I’m not your sister.” My hands closed around his arms.

Cormac reared back, and pain flashed across his features. He lowered his head, and his shoulders drooped.

Guilt lanced me through the stomach, making my insides deflate. He’d seen me as a surrogate for Corrine. He’d even admitted it, and my words had probably hit him worse than a kick in the gut.

I let go of his arms and stepped back. “Cormac, I’m sorry.”

He raised his head and swallowed. Without casting me a glance, he walked through the hallway, past Leopold, and Sebastian, who stood with a towel around his middle.

“Peculiar.” Leopold’s arm encircled my waist.

“What?”

“If you grabbed me and said you weren’t my sister, I’d thank you and bury my head in your tantalizing tits.”

“Same here,” said Sebastian.

I turned to him and raised my brows.

He raised a shoulder. “Although I’d probably forgo the self-smothering. That’s Leo’s thing, not mine.”

Leopold placed his hand on my ass and gave me a little push toward Sebastian’s room. “Let’s get moving.”

“Where are we going?”

“Carlisle,” said Sebastian. “To the Royal Infirmary.”

Before leaving, we emailed the video of Bruce’s bruised fists to Sebastian’s legal contact from the club. We would miss a whole day of classes and infuriate Mrs. Benazir, but none of that mattered when the police had Prakash.

I sat in the back of the jeep, staring out into the valley. With Sebastian driving carefully at the wheel, I could appreciate the vast, rolling hills of the Lake District, carpeted in shades of green ranging from beige to emerald green, to the darkest shades of pine.

My shoulders relaxed, and the silence gave me space to reflect on my conversation with Cormac.

He had seemed betrayed that I still associated with the kings. I still couldn’t tell if it was because he believed Prakash had hurt Ashley or if he still blamed them for Corrine’s death. I ran a hand through my mahogany hair. Both reasons seemed equally as valid.

The one thing I knew for sure about Prakash was that he was neither stupid nor hot-headed. Even if he wanted to kick the shit out of someone, he wouldn’t do it in his bedroom and then call Leopold and the victim’s sister to come and take a look at his handiwork.

Even before Ashley’s pigging, I could tell that Bruce and his knights were sadistic, impulsive misogynists. That time I’d returned from Ashley’s initiation and rumors had spread about the pork ribs, they had descended on me like starving wolves. If I hadn’t fought back—I shook my head. There was no point imagining myself naked in the snow bruised and battered.

“What if Ashley knew something about Bruce and the others and tried to blackmail them?” I asked.

Leopold grunted. “That’s exactly what I think happened.”

“She never reported them for what they did earlier in the term,” said Sebastian.

“From what I heard, it was worse than it appeared that night,” added Leopold.