‌Chapter no 6

The Darkest Note (Redwood Kings, #1)

CADENCE

It doesn’t take long for the alarm bells to go off in my head, overpowering the music that’s been on a loop since The Kings cornered me outside.

The smile on Zane’s face disappears the moment the door slams shut. He walks over to the window and looks outside it, hands on his hips as if he doesn’t want to watch what’ll happen next.

Finn retires to a chair, arms folded over his chest and eyes sharp. The ruthlessness that I’d sensed in him takes the wheel. Lips that had seemed vacantly lax have an almost cruel slant. A gentleman replaced by a savage.

But the sense of doom really sinks in when my eyes land on Dutch. His scowl is gone, mouth relaxed, as if he’s glad to be in his own turf where he no longer has to act civilized. His amber eyes are both bottomless and depthless as he steps closer to me.

I step back.

The smile that inches across his dangerously handsome face is lopsided.

He’ll enjoy this. Whatever this is.

What started as a faint sense of calamity boils down to a steady, untainted thump of distress, like barely visible cracks in the wall morphing into giant gaps that could down a bridge.

“Now that we won’t be overheard, there’s something we need to discuss, New Girl,” Dutch says quietly.

“It’s Cadence,” I correct him, but my voice trembles and it doesn’t sound half as intimidating as it should.

He chuckles, low and deep in his throat. “I don’t give a damn what your name is.”

I whip my eyes to Finn and then to Zane, who’s turned around and is watching us like we’re a television show that he’s barely paying attention to.

The switch in their demeanor is so quick that it feels like diving into water that’s supposed to be warm and finding out it’s ice-cold when your body’s already submerged.

I struggle to jump ahead of what’s going on, but I can’t quite believe any of this is happening. If not for the danger swirling in the air and the alarm bells raging in my head, I’d think this was all a dream.

“W-what do you want?” I stumble back.

“One little thing.” Dutch growls darkly. “Leave Redwood Prep.

Immediately.”

The words thud against my chest and bounce to the ground. If I weren’t so shocked, I’d try to pick them up and turn them over. I’d do my best to piece them together until they made sense.

But since I’m not in any state to do that, all I can do is gape. “Excuse me?”

“Leave. This. School.”

“What are you—what do you mean?” I stutter.

“You’re smart, New Girl, or you wouldn’t have been offered a spot here. No matter how much Mulliez begged.” Dutch keeps advancing on me. “I need you out. I need you gone. Today.”

I keep moving back.

My heart is clanging in my chest. This isn’t right. The only place I need to leave is this room. But Dutch is standing between me and the door. And even if I run, Zane and Finn could catch me. They’re all lean and powerful. It wouldn’t take a lot for them to drag me back.

I can’t escape them.

I can’t do anything but fight my way through.

“W-who the hell are you to tell me to leave?” I yell. But the bite is lost from my tone when I inch away.

Dutch’s hand lurches out and he grabs my upper arm. His grip is strong. Although he’s not digging in hard enough to cause pain, it’s enough to

prove he could break me if he wanted to.

All the tingly feelings I’d felt for him when we met outside disappear, replaced by a pulsing fury. He set me up. The friendliness, the offer of working together, they wanted to lure me here.

It’s diabolical. It’s cruel. I don’t have to guess which brother came up with the idea.

“Let me go!” I fight him, flailing my arms and struggling to escape his grasp.

“Watch it, New Girl.” He jerks me around and my skirt flails around my legs. I look back, out of breath and realize that I’d been about to knock into his shiny guitar.

Dutch jerks me forward and I collide in his chest. His eyes rove my face. “We all know you wouldn’t have been able to afford your tuition if not for our family’s money. You had a chance to live on the other side for a while. You’re welcome. In return, all we’re asking is for you to bow out nice and quiet. You can do that, can’t you?”

My nostrils flare. It’s one thing to make ridiculous demands out of nowhere. It’s another to look down on me because I’m poor. Who the hell does he think he is?

I tilt my chin up. “What if I don’t?”

“If you don’t,” his lips move over mine, so close I can smell his cinnamon-scented breath, “then I will make it my personal mission to destroy you.”

His eyes are stone-cold. He means every word.

His flaming antagonism scrapes against the depths of my soul. The part of me that believes in justice and good and fairness shrivels inside.

All my life, I made it through by believing that good exists and things have to work out in the end. I clung to that truth. I had to. When all you’re surrounded by is pain and darkness—there’s no choice but to hold on to something intangible.

Beautiful idealisms. Unreachable dreams.

But Dutch Cross just took a baton to my house of cards and smashed it to the ground. I realize just how powerless I really am in this world. Pluckiness? Hard work? Bull crap.

Everything about my existence is moldable. No matter how much pride I have, I’m nothing but a plaything in the hands of the rich and powerful.

The hand grabbing mine is proof.

It’s disappointment, more than it is the hurt, that spurs the rage through my veins. How dare he steal my hope? That tiny little flower that managed to survive beneath mounds of dirt and garbage. How dare he take such a precious thing from me—my own distorted ideals—and tear it to shreds?

I slam him with my angry eyes and I see the moment he takes note of my expression. A glimmer of amusement passes through his face. And I hate him for that too.

“I wouldn’t suggest you choose the hard road, New Girl.” His fingers slide down my torso and hook in the gaping hole of my shirt. Somehow, in all the scuffling, the pin came undone. There’s a hint of pale flesh peeking at Dutch and his eyes fix there like a predator.

He hooks his ringed finger in the gap and tugs me forward. “I’d really enjoy the chance to break you.”

My body trembles from head to toe, but it’s not because of my earlier, pitiful infatuation. In fact, I’m more ashamed than ever that I’d fallen for the Cross brothers’ spell. Especially him.

The spawn of evil himself.

Dutch is breathing in my fear like a drug. I feel the darkness vibrating in his bones and it rumbles against my skin.

This feels personal.

But why? What could I have possibly done to deserve this cruelty? I’ve never met these boys in my life. Even if I did, I would have passed them by, knowing that I’m just a speck of dirt on their perfect, pristine worlds.

“There’s only one right answer,” Dutch says into my ear. “Let me hear it, New Girl.”

“You really think you can break me?” I grind out. One corner of his lips hitches up.

I curl my fingers into fists and launch them at him. He easily wraps his fingers around my wrists and drives me back. I hit the wall so hard that my breath pops out of my open lips.

His body presses against mine. Until I can feel all of him. Until the weight of him is practically sinking into me.

He leans down. The words he delivers hit my neck like tiny daggers. A vampire’s bite. “Don’t excite me at the thought of a fight, New Girl. I’m trying so hard to end this now.”

“Dutch.” Zane’s voice sounds behind us.

Finn rises from his chair.

The brothers look somber and formidable.

He releases me and I wilt against the wall, a hand to my chest as my heart bangs against my ribs.

I look up through the fringe of hair that’s falling in front of my face. Dutch is prowling in front of the instruments, his stare burning with disdain for me. I’m barely human to him. Barely worth respect.

Tears prick the back of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. With what’s left of my dignity, I pin the hole in my shirt closed.

Since I was a kid growing up in the shadows of poverty, I was always desperate. Gasping for air, for a chance to be free. With mom strung out and my little sister looking to me for food, I had no choice but to wear my poverty on my sleeve.

There were some in my neighborhood who could hide the stench of neglect and hopelessness, but I wasn’t one of them. I wore my pain like a badge around my neck and kept my brokenness right at the surface.

It’s why I was so elated when I heard that Redwood Prep still used uniforms. Finally, I could blend in and be something close to normal. Finally, people wouldn’t be able to look at me and know. Know that mom’s arms were riddled with needle marks. Know that our beds were inflatable mattresses for most of my childhood. Know that hot meals were a commodity and hot water was a magical unicorn that existed in storybooks.

Leave Redwood Prep?

I think about Viola and her excitement when she heard I’d gotten into Redwood.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me? That’s so cool. They’ve got, like, all the coolest kids there. I follow all of their make-up channels!’

She’d be heartbroken to see me leave the castle in the clouds, not only empty-handed but a quitter.

Because of Redwood, my sister had hope the way I did. A way out. A different way. One that had nothing to do with selling her body or her dreams to scrape through the bottom of the barrel for opportunities.

It means too much. Redwood. The scholarship. It means everything.

And I won’t let Dutch Spawn-of-Evil Cross pry it out of my hands.

“I don’t care what you do,” I cry out hoarsely, “I’m not leaving Redwood unless they’re carrying out my cold, dead body.”

His sinister laughter is the last thing I expect, but it bursts out of his mouth and it’s somehow more frightening than any of the scowls and glares that came before it.

The laughter tells me he’s not concerned in the least. It tells me I’m a mouse in front of a lion, one whose demise is inevitable and he’ll toy around with his meal until it bores him.

The weight of what I’m up against presses into me when I see Finn and Zane trot to Dutch and flank him on either side. They make a formidable picture with their broad shoulders, long legs and chilly, beautiful faces.

“Let’s see how long you hold out.” He glances at his brothers. “I gave her a chance. You satisfied?”

Finn dips his chin. Zane frowns.

Hazel eyes burn into me. “Just know that we asked you nicely first.” He steps forward, his sneakers kissing mine. “Welcome to Redwood Prep.”

If I wasn’t sure that his brothers would block me, I’d grab his guitar and bash it in his face.

Instead, I lift my chin and stalk past them. They let me, not chasing me even when I throw the door open and stalk outside. Students stop in their tracks when they see me leaving their private practice room. Astonished gasps ripple like pops of fire.

‘What was she doing in there?’

‘Is she dating one of the Kings?’

‘Who is that girl? I’ve never seen her before’.

Their whispers follow me as I charge away from The King’s lair and stumble down the hallway like a woman possessed.

Did that just happen? Or was it a nightmare ripped straight out of a horror novel?

No, no, no.

I keep running until my legs give out and all I can do is sink against a locker.

Panic gives way to rationalizing. Now that I’m in the sunlight, now that I feel safe, I’m scrambling for an explanation.

Maybe they were bluffing. Maybe, if I just keep my head down and stay out of their way, they’ll forget all about the target they put on my back. They’ll find someone else to torment.

My heart swells with hope and I latch onto that thread like a drowning bird.

As if hearing my feeble prayers, a disturbance erupts in the hallway. Phones start chirping.

The ping sound reverberates like a gong, rushing down to me with finality.

Movement stops.

Chatter turns to thoughtful silence.

Heads dip like marionettes pulled on strings, all answering the lure of their devices.

The foreboding feeling I’d had in The King’s practice room returns.

And this time, it’s ten times stronger.

I open my phone and maneuver to the Redwood Prep app. That’s the only app that would send a notification to everyone’s devices at the same time.

“Come on.” I pull the screen down and watch the refresh button. It doesn’t load. “Come on. Come on.” I rub my thumb against the screen, feeling the heat of everyone’s stares.

The stupid phone won’t refresh.

‘Is it her?’

‘It looks like her.’

‘How could she do that?’

One by one, the whispers start. Accusing eyes shoot in my direction, flogging me like whips at the stake.

I straighten to my full height and try to walk through the hallway without looking shaken. With each step I take, the stares get heavier and heavier.

“Dude, it is her.” A pimply-faced freshman points and laughs.

Unable to stand the suspense a second longer, I march right up to him and extend my hand. “Give me your phone.”

“What?”

Without waiting for a response, I snatch the phone from him. What I see sends a ricochet of dread drumming down my spine.

It’s a photo of me—without my red wig and makeup—and Mr. Mulliez. We’re sitting at a booth at the lounge. It was taken the night he offered me a scholarship to Redwood.

Underneath it is a caption.

‘NEW GIRL BANGS MUSIC TEACHER FOR TICKET INTO REDWOOD’

Bile rises to the back of my throat and I shove the phone back into the freshman’s hands. Stomach roiling, I stumble into the nearest restroom and puke my guts out.

The Kings promised they would break me.

But I didn’t expect the breaking to take innocent people down too.