Page 79 of Broken by my Bully (Lessons in Cruelty Dark Academia #1)

Lessons in Cruelty: Book Two

KAI

They say blood is thicker than water, but they never mention how easily it spills.

Haven once asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.

Firefighter, I told her. Maybe an astronaut. The regular shit kids say. I never told her the truth. That I wanted to be the guy doing the hitting instead of taking it.

I’ve been Ezra’s punching bag for years.

Maybe it was watching Haven get hurt because of me. Or maybe I just finally ran out of room to store the rage I’ve been swallowing my entire life.

But tonight, something clicked. Watching him drag Haven on stage and humiliate her like that in front of everyone was the spark that ignited the tanker of kerosene hidden inside me.

I almost beat my brother to death with my bare hands. Felt his nose crack like a wishbone. Watched his eyes roll back.

Didn’t stop, even when he started laughing.

Even when he began to beg.

And the whole fucking time, all I could think was, finally . Finally, it’s my fucking turn to throw the first punch.

Honestly, the scary part isn’t that I snapped.

The scary part is how long I’ve been planning to.

What happened tonight wasn’t about defending Haven’s honor, or some romantic bullshit. It was about reclaiming my fucking manhood. And yeah, marking my territory, too.

Ezra touched what’s mine.

I reminded him why that’s a bad fucking idea.

Haven belongs to me now, and I protect what’s mine.

She’s gonna love me for exactly what I am.

A monster who chose her.

Or maybe she’ll hate me for it.

Either’s fine by me.

BASTIAN

Thank fuck I waited to get to the Rain Dance before snorting a line of coke. This is a delicate situation, and being high right now would have left me at a serious disadvantage.

Haven Lee feels too heavy in my arms as I rush back toward the lights beckoning from the nearby country club. As if, the moment her tremors let up, I’ll be carrying a dead body.

I know exactly how many buttons to push before someone self-destructs, and I take a sick pleasure in pressing each and every one of them.

It’s not normal.

It’s not sane.

And it’s sure as fuck nowhere near ethical or moral. But I’ve never claimed to be any of those things.

I’ve always forced young minds to explore their tentative grasp on what they’ve been brought up to believe is right and wrong. It leads to breakthroughs in rational thought.

And, sometimes, tragedy.

I go around the side of the country club’s main building to avoid inquisitive eyes.

Haven hasn’t said another word since her last outburst, but I’m not counting that as a win until I can assess her condition.

I need to get her somewhere safe. Somewhere warm. She’s shivering and jerking in my arms. Could be from the cold. Could be her body’s response to the mental shit show happening in her mind right now.

Drugged and out of her mind, dressed in nothing but a trash bag, Haven Lee is the most beautiful disaster I’ve ever seen.

Whatever happened in the forest wrecked the walls she’d so carefully erected inside her mind. Crude, but effective.

I needed her broken, vulnerable, and completely dependent on me. It would have taken me weeks, maybe even months, before she was pathetic, malleable, and depressed enough for me to swoop in.

When I’ve discovered who did this to her, I’ll send them flowers.

My Tesla unlocks as I walk up to it, making it easier to slide Haven in the passenger seat. Her wet body leaves streaks of body paint over the red leather interior, but warming her up is more important right now.

Getting her out of sight, even more so.

“Seatbelt,” I tell her, but she just stares blankly out the windshield, the only movement her erratic shudders. I wrestle the seatbelt over her, clipping it in and yanking it to make sure it’s secure.

This close, with the Tesla’s interior light beaming on her, I can see every inch of her. Hair plastered over her skull, paint streaking down her face, her neck, her entire naked body.

And Christ, her lip…

She flinches when I touch it with my thumb, but lets me gently draw it away from her teeth without protest.

“What have you done to yourself, Haven?”

I open the glove compartment and take out a stick of gum for her. I unwrap it and slip it into her mouth, my thumb lingering. The way she accepts my touch without question makes my cock stir.

She spits the gum out, but I push it back in again.

“Rather this than your lips, girl.”

I pause halfway inside the car, quickly pressing my finger to her throat just below the collar to feel her pulse. Her blown out pupils are from the molly, but her slack expression is definitely from shock.

Her pulse is racing. Her chest hitches with fast, sharp breaths. Thankfully, she’s not hyperventilating. But that could change in an instant if she’s triggered again.

…don’t make me come looking for you again, bitch…

As I’m closing the door, footsteps crunch over the gravel drive behind me.

“Leaving so soon, Bastian?”

I turn, closing the door so the interior light switches off, doing my fucking best not to slam it. Dean Winslow halts a few feet away, a mink stole draped over her elbows, an umbrella in one hand, her clutch in the other.

Her entire outfit is black. With her upturned nose and attempt at a regal stare, she reminds me a little too much of Morticia Addams. Especially with those dark crimson lips.

“Have a heap of assignments to grade this weekend,” I say, dragging a finger over my forehead as rain trickles down my face.

She nods, her eyes dropping to my chest, then my hands. “Are they at least behaving themselves out there?”

I glance down, my eyes sliding shut.

There’s body paint all over the front of my tux. My hands are coated with it. If there were a UV light around, I’d be lighting up the dark like fucking Chernobyl. No wonder the dean was cataloging my appearance. I may as well have handed her a signed confession.

“The rain will chase them home.”

“Here’s hoping,” she says primly. “This was supposed to be a private affair for the Greeks so they can blow off some steam before midterms. Now it appears half the school’s ended up in those woods.”

“Give them a finger and they take the whole damn hand,” I say with a chuckle.

Her upturned nose lifts a quarter inch as she gives me another interrogatory scan. “If you weren’t so wet and…bright, I’d offer you a nightcap.”

I wipe the rain off my forehead again. “And I’d have accepted, but unfortunately, I wasn’t joking about those assignments, Yolanda.”

“Probably for the best. Neither of us needs another scandal.” She glances up at the sky with obvious distaste. “Be careful out there. Things will be slippery for a while.”

Jesus, if she only knew.

I roll my lips together, nod. She gives me a frown and struts over to her black Mercedes S-Class a few yards away. I watch her go, giving her a wave when she turns to climb behind the wheel.

Her headlamps illuminate me and the curtain of rain falling between us. I have no idea if she can see Haven in the passenger seat, but if she can, she doesn’t stop to say anything.

“Trouble from the word go,” I mutter as I slide into the driver’s seat. “You make me wish corporal punishment was still a thing.”

I glance over at Haven as I put the Tesla in gear. Her hands twitch in her lap, fingers curling and uncurling like she’s trying to grasp something that isn’t there. She’s still staring blankly ahead, the gum I forced into her mouth slipping out again through slack lips.

“Christ,” I mutter, holding my hand under her chin. “Spit.”

Like a child, she pushes the gum out with her tongue, not even looking at me. Shaking my head, I clap my hand against my mouth, tossing the gum inside and chewing it with force.

Might stop me grinding my teeth.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe, girl,” I murmur, pulling onto the empty road.

The wipers sweep across the windshield, creating a hypnotic rhythm that matches the pulse in my veins. I need to focus on driving, but I can’t stop stealing glances at her. The passing streetlights illuminate her profile in flashes—hollow cheeks, parted lips, vacant eyes.

“Can you hear me, Haven?” I ask, keeping my voice low and even.

She turns her head slightly, just enough that I know she’s registered my voice.

Not completely disconnected then.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

She blinks slowly. “Collar,” she whispers. “He put a collar—” she lifts her hand, her body jerking when she comes into contact with the leather strip around her throat.

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. “Relax. We’ll get it off in a few minutes.”

“They all saw.” Her voice cracks. “Everyone saw what he did. And no one…no one did a fucking thing.”

“Look at me, Haven.” I reach over, my fingers brushing her chin to turn her face toward mine. Her skin is ice-cold. She shudders under my touch, but doesn’t pull away. “That’s over now. You’re with me.”

For a moment, clarity flashes in her eyes. “That’s worse.”

I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips as I turn back to the road. Even broken, she still has some fight in her.

“You need to trust me,” I tell her, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “I’m the only one who can help you now.”

“Where are we going?”

“The hospital.”

She doesn’t respond, just turns back to stare out the windshield. I take the next turn toward Agony Memorial, calculating the quickest route in my head. A sedative will give her some respite from whatever horror show is playing in her head right now.

A sharp wail pierces the air, and Haven’s entire body convulses like she’s been electrocuted.

“No! Please!” she screams, hands flying to her ears. “I’ll be good! I’ll be good !”

An ambulance races past us, lights flashing, siren blaring. Haven folds in on herself, rocking back and forth, gasping for breath like the sound is physically painful.

“It’s just an ambulance, girl,” I say firmly, but she’s too far gone to hear me.

My eyes follow the emergency vehicle as it speeds toward campus. Someone must have gotten hurt at the Rain Dance.

My throat tightens. Ambulance means paramedics. Paramedics mean police reports. Police mean questions.

Questions like why was Professor Rooke carrying a nearly naked, drugged student away from a faculty-sanctioned event?

I take the next right turn, away from the hospital. Away from the paperwork and prying eyes. Away from anyone who might recognize either of us.

“Change of plans,” I mutter, more to myself than to Haven.

She’s sobbing, clawed hands digging into her scalp. I reach over, grabbing her wrists with one hand while keeping the other on the wheel. It’s only when I give her a hard shake that the crying stops.

“Stop that,” I command, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp. “Look at me.”

Her head turns, but her eyes are unfocused, pupils so dilated I can barely see the blue. She’s somewhere else entirely.

“No hospital, okay? I’m taking you to my house,” I tell her, releasing her wrists once I’m sure she’s stopped scratching herself. “I’ve got something there that will help you.”

Haven says nothing, but her breathing slows. The tremors wracking her body become less violent. Her head lolls against the window, exhaustion finally catching up with her.

But the MDMA coursing through her system won’t allow her to fall sleep anytime soon.

By the time we reach Earl Avenue, she’s mumbling incoherently, fragments of sentences that make no sense.

I press down harder on the accelerator, pushing the Tesla faster through the deserted streets. The quicker I get her contained, the better.

For both of us.

The rain has thinned to a light drizzle by the time I turn onto the private road leading to my house. Haven has gone quiet again, which is somehow more unsettling than her earlier outbursts.

“Almost there,” I say, not expecting a response.

She stirs slightly. “Professor?”

“Yes, sweet girl?”

“Is this what dying feels like?”

The question is so matter-of-fact, so devoid of fear, that it catches me off guard.

I glance over at her. Her face is turned toward me, eyes clearer than they’ve been since I found her.

“Don’t think of it as dying,” I tell her, letting my voice drop to a smooth, hypnotic cadence.

“Think of it as being reborn.”

Haven, Kai & Bastian’s story continues in book two.