Cruel Academy - A Mafia Romance

HALEY

I take a deep breath when I push through the rusted side door and emerge into the parking lot.

It's summer in Ravenlake, Texas, so the air is humid. But it feels good anyways. Calming. Soothing.

Out here, the roar of the crowd is hardly noticeable. It's just crickets. Distant cars passing on the highway. The drone of the single fluorescent streetlight in the far corner of the parking lot. The sounds of South Texas at night.

Until, when someone reaches out of the darkness and grabs me, I add my scream to the mix.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" someone snarls.

I whirl around, still caught in the man's grasp.

I'm expecting to see John.

He found me. He came to finish what he started. To shut me up. Silence me for good.

But it's not him.

Instead, it's Levi-John's best friend.

Not quite as bad as I feared. But not much better, either.

"I'm leaving," I snap. I wrench my arm free of his clutches and take a step away from him.

"Why did you come here tonight?" His breath is thick with the scent of alcohol. So much that I feel a little drunk just smelling it. "Not smart, little Halez. Not smart at all."

I ball my hands into fists. "Thought I'd put some money on the Wilson kid."

He growls between clenched teeth. "Don't be a smartass. No one has heard from you in months. If you knew what was good for you, you'd be hiding."

I roll my eyes. "You don't scare me, Levi."

That's a lie.

I do a quick survey of my surroundings. I'm alone in a parking lot with a drunken asshole who's best friend with my abusive ex. Fact is that I'm not just scared-I'm fucking terrified.

Everyone inside is screaming their heads off as Caleb Wilson, the Fighter Prince of Ravenlake Prep, beats another idiot into submission.

Which means none of them will hear me if I start screaming for help.

All of which means one thing: I'm fucked.

Levi stands taller, puffing out his thin chest. I always referred to him as "the rat," which amazingly he didn't care for, despite how accurate it was.

Like a rodent, he scurries around gathering intel on everyone and everything to take back to his nest of Hell Prince scum. And if you give him the chance, he'll shit all over you. The only person he is loyal to is John.

Still, rat or not, he is bigger than I am. Stronger, too.

He reaches out and grabs me again. His hand is an immovable cuff around my forearm.

He pulls me close, his breath hot in my face. He must see me glance around, hoping for some last minute savior, because he smiles.

"You aren't under John's protection anymore. You know that, right? No one gives a shit what happens to you."

"Let me go," I say evenly. "Even if we aren't dating, I'm sure John wouldn't appreciate this."

The fluorescent light makes Levi's skin look yellow and sickly. When he smiles wider, a shiver moves down my back.

"You've been gone almost the whole summer, honey. You don't know the first fuckin' thing about what John wants anymore."

Before I can really react, Levi yanks me into a small alcove in the alley behind the abandoned building where the underground fight is taking place.

I try to pull against his hold, but I can't break free.

He's got me.

Levi flings me against the rough brick wall and pins me there with his hips. My head cracks hard against the bricks. I see stars.

My heart is a jackhammer in my chest, but I can't move. Can't breathe.

My entire body is frozen in panic.

Then, suddenly, Levi's mouth is over mine.

His lips are dry and thin, and his kiss is crushing and unrelenting. There is nothing warm or sensual or pleasurable about it at all. It feels like my teeth are being ground into dust and the smell of alcohol on his breath is so strong I want to gag.

I slam my hands into his chest, surprising him enough that he stumbles back a step and breaks the kiss.

"What the hell?" I curse, wiping at my mouth with the sleeve of my hoodie. "What are you doing?"

He spits on the ground. "Seeing what the big deal is about. John was pissed when you left, and I didn't get it. What's so special about you?"

He lurches towards me again.

I try throwing a knee into his balls, but my aim is off and he takes it in the thigh instead. He grunts in pain, but it's not enough to stop him.

Especially not when he rears back and slaps me.

The stars in my vision double. I taste blood.

And still, no one is coming to help.

"Don't make it worse for yourself," he slurs. "Relax and this could be real nice."

His hands wrap around my wrists, and his body is plastered to mine so thoroughly that I can't even try to knee him again.

His body rolls against mine, pressing the hardness at his center against my hips. I cringe away from him and try to pull myself free, but my arms feel like limp noodles compared to his.

This is real. This is happening. I can't think straight. Can't fight back.

I'm fucked. I'm fucked. I'm fucked.

Suddenly, the door next to us swings open. A sharp triangle of light shines out, momentarily blinding me.

We both look towards the door. Levi curses.

"Fuck, sorry," the intruder says. It's a Hell Prince I recognize but don't know well. "I didn't know anyone was out here."

He starts to close the door. Just before it shuts, I gasp, "Help! Please."

"So dramatic," Levi sighs, cutting me off. "We're fine."

The Hell Princes aren't good guys, but they are still human beings. I expect the guy to step in and see if I'm okay, to check and make sure I want to be here.

Instead, he just chuckles to himself. "Have fun, you two."

Then he pulls the door closed, plunging us into darkness once more.

3

CALEB

This kid never stood a chance.

He came into this match thinking that being a few pounds heavier and a few inches taller gave him the upper hand.

Big fucking mistake.

It took him a while to realize it, too.

It wasn't until the third or fourth time I cracked him straight in the jaw that he started to understand he was in very, very deep shit.

I dance around the corner of the ring as he lumbers towards me.

The spotlights are bright. The crowd is roaring. It's a good night for fighting. A good night for winning.

The big idiot takes a huge, loping swing that misses by a country mile.

I swerve around it, then deliver a crunching uppercut right under his chin.

He hits the deck immediately, square on his ass. The crowd goes apeshit.

"Stay down, moron," I hiss at him.

It's for his own good. He oughta just stay down there and take his loss. That way, he'll go home intact. I can't promise what will happen if he tries to keep this going.

But he's not the type to take friendly advice, it seems.

Growling like a wounded ape, he plants his knuckles on the canvas and lumbers up slowly. I sigh, wipe the sweat off my forehead with the back of one glove, and get ready to do this again.

He brings his hands up in front of his face. Takes one step towards me. Feints high with the jab, then tries to bring that big old roundhouse through again. Trying to take my head off.

If I were anyone else, the feint might've fooled me. I might've eaten the roundhouse right to the chops.

But I'm not anyone else.

I'm Caleb Wilson. I own this fucking ring.

It's time to remind him of that simple fact.

I duck under the roundhouse. It goes whistling over my head like a meteor.