Lost Boys (Slateview High 1)

“I’m not sure why you think we’re done here.”

Nine

Oh. Shit.

The Lost Boys had stopped Logan, but no one stopped the Lost Boys from dragging me outside. They were the law of the land, that much was obvious. And while they policed the halls of Slateview, no one policed them.

That wasn’t reassuring.

Trepidation—no, real, unfettered fear—clawed through my veins as they brought me out back, pushing through the double doors behind the school. There was no one out here. No crowd of students leering and cheering. That was almost worse.

“Y’know, I thought rich people were supposed to be resourceful. Powerful.” Kace pushed me against the wall, not releasing his grip on me. “You can’t even go one morning without someone jumping you. Kinda pathetic.”

“It’s not my fault this school is full of psychopaths,” I snapped.

Bishop laughed.

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Kace stepped back as the other two boys came to stand in front of me alongside him. “But maybe you’re not quite so much Daddy’s Little Princess?”

My face heated, fury joining the fear roaring through my veins.

“I don’t understand y

our hatred of my father,” I said, keeping my voice low and even. “He’s not… what you or anyone else in this school say he is. I know my father. You’ve never even met him. You don’t know anything about him—”

Bishop stepped forward suddenly, propping his hands on either side of my head, leaning in close to my face. Close enough that the heat of his body blazed against mine, close enough that the scent of woodsy body wash filled my nose as the intensity of those hazel eyes flecked in gold held my own.

“I know enough. I know your father is the reason a hell of a lot of people I care about are suffering right now,” he murmured, his voice suddenly ice cold, dripping frigid down my spine. “I know enough to know that when a man like your dad goes and buys up health department buildings all through a state and turns them into luxury spas and health facilities for rich fucks, the people who actually need medicine, who need care, don’t end up fucking getting it.” He laughed, though it looked like he had more to say. And his words sounded personal somehow, making me think he wasn’t talking about hypothetical people. “But of course, Daddy’s little princess doesn’t know shit about that, does she? Daddy should’ve kept all his ducks in a row. Then princess wouldn’t have to pay the price for what her father trashed.”

Vitriol dripped off every word Bishop said.

It was hatred. Pure hatred.

I had never heard another person speak like that. Not to me, not to anyone. And every bit of Bishop’s anger and hatred was directed at my father.

How could the man who’d raised me deserve all that? I knew Dad was tough and demanding. I knew he pushed hard in his business deals. But had his ruthlessness really reached that level of cruelty? Of inhumanity? Bishop seemed to think so. Everyone at Slateview High seemed to think so.

“Bish?” Misael spoke up, his hand settling on Bishop’s shoulder. Bishop stared down at me, that burning, hate-filled gaze holding mine until he sneered and pushed away from the wall.

My knees wobbled, and I had to fight hard not to let myself slide down the rough brick wall until my ass hit the ground. Bishop’s hatred might be directed at my dad, but he seemed to have found the perfect conduit for his feelings—me.

“Let me lay it out for you,” he said, running a hand through his shaggy hair. “I already told you we run the school, but maybe I should’ve been clearer about what the fuck that means. No one does anything we haven’t sanctioned. You think it’s lawless here? It ain’t. We just decide what the law is. We decide what the hierarchy is. Who has the power. And Princess? You got none. Just about all the kids here have a reason to hate you. Whether their families were destroyed by yours, or they have someone close to them who was—just about everyone in this school would love to see you get fucked up, fucked over, or just fucked.”

He let that sink in for me, not that it needed to embed itself further into me. It was obvious, wasn’t it? The constant torment, my car, the incident this morning. I believed him when he said everyone hated me.

But I still didn’t know what he was getting at.

“Yeah. I’m aware. You don’t have to rub it in,” I snapped.

Bishop shrugged, the movement lazy and predatory. “Ain’t rubbing it in. Making it clear. There’s only one way to keep what happened this morning with Logan from happening again… worse next time, probably.”

I scoffed, trying to cover up the fear that swelled inside me like a balloon expanding. “Oh really? And what’s that?”

“You need protection. We’ll provide it,” Misael said.

What?

This was the second time these boys had cornered me behind the school. Bishop had made no secret of the fact that he hated me, and neither of the other two seemed to have anything but dislike and disdain for me either.