Page 28 of Twisted Elites

Hot breaths puffed against my bare breasts as Leopold’s fist pumped that furious, red length with an urgency that made my brows rise. He twisted his grip around the head and moaned into my mounds.

A second later, he spurted thick, white streams of semen over his rumpled shirt and green, striped tie. His fist pulsed over the tip, making tiny up and down movements as he milked himself dry.

I was about to edge forward and steal a taste, when a male voice bellowed outside the door, “Help me!”

Sebastian pulled up his pants, sprinted to the door, and stepped out into the hallway.

With a gasp, I raced to the bathroom door, pulled Leopold’s dressing gown off the peg, and shoved it on my half-naked self. Tying up the belt, I rushed after Sebastian with Leopold on my heels.

One of the Riley twins ran down the hallway, screaming. A few of the other boys tried to hold onto him to ask what was wrong, but he broke out from their grips and continued running.

My throat dried. “Where’s his twin?”

Sebastian turned around. “Stay here while Leo and I check their room.”

I glanced at the twin, who had been tackled to the ground by four boys from the football team. Then I watched my boyfriends walk down the other side of the hallway toward an open door.

Fear rippled through my insides as I thought about Prakash’s plight. I didn’t want anyone to blame Leopold and Sebastian for whatever had spooked the twin, so I followed after them.

A crowd of boys stood in a clothes-strewn room around two figures.

Bruce Wilmington lay on the floor in his boxers, his glassy eyes staring sightlessly, and his muscled chest unmoving. Next to him lay the other twin, covered in a tee-shirt, but in the same, wretched condition.

“Does anyone know first aid?” I whispered.

One of the boys I recognized from the scholars’ program rushed out of the room. “I’ll see if I can find Dr. Forrester.”

Sebastian roared at the other onlookers, “Someone call a fucking ambulance.”

I backed away, clutching at my frantic heart. By the time the paramedics arrived from Carlisle, it would be too late. If Dr. Wilmington didn’t materialize with a shot of adrenaline and a defibrillator, these boys would have no chance.

Chapter 7

The next morning we sat in the dining room at the royal table, Leopold on my left, Sebastian on my right. My mind kept drifting back to the events of the day before when the police and paramedics cleared the entire fourth floor and wouldn’t let anyone return for three hours. Nobody knew the fate of Bruce Wilmington and Jarret, the younger of the Riley twins.

A silence stretched out across the vast space, and people occupied every seat, including the head table. Academy staff I had never encountered before, from groundskeepers to cleaners, to administrators, lined the walls.

Leopold and Sebastian gripped my hands under the table. Neither of us had particularly liked Bruce or the twins, but what we had seen yesterday had been raw. Brutal. Barrett, the other twin’s gut-wrenching cries at the plight of his brother, had scratched a groove in my soul that would remain forever.

When the last of the students settled in their seats, and Mr. Blunt closed the double doors to the dining room, Mrs. Benazir stood.

“Members of staff, students, and associates of Brittas Academy.” She cleared her throat and clutched a stack of index cards. “It is my sad duty to inform you of the deaths of two promising students.”

Quiet chatter spread across the room, presumably from those who hadn’t yet heard the rumor.

The headmistress paused until the room went silent. “Bruce Wilmington was the captain of our illustrious football team, a generous young man who mentored younger students in his sport, and one who had a promising international career. He leaves behind parents and a younger brother.”

I swallowed back a lump in my throat and pushed away images of him and his knights, tormenting a broken, naked Ashley in the snow. Now wasn’t the time to think ill of the dead. Bruce would never reach the age of eighteen, never live out his dreams. Ashley, on the other hand, had a whole lifetime to recover from her ordeal.

“Jarret Riley played football with equal skill and passion. Also, a leader, he ran a film-making club where he encouraged younger students to create art with their smartphones. He leaves behind his father and twin brother.”

My gaze caught Cormac’s, whose face was the color of diluted milk. Perhaps he was reliving the aftermath of Corrine’s death. Had Mrs. Benazir made a similar speech?

The door creaked open, but I was too busy looking at Cormac to turn around and look at the latecomer.

He broke eye contact and fixed his gaze on the table. Geraldine sat at his side with both arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Mrs. Benazir continued. “Drugs, no matter the classification, are a danger to all students, regardless of age or grade average. They provide a false sense of support and security, but create a cycle of addiction where students cannot function without their consumption.”