The Devils They Are (Boys of Willowbrook #1)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

Bexley

I f you'd ask me how I ended up with a glowstick shoved into my nether region like some kind of flesh lantern, I should probably lie and say… I don't know .

But the truth is I'm too stubborn to turn down a dare. Showing signs of weakness or fear leads to nothing but trouble, and I didn't spend the past few years fighting my way to the top, just to be dethroned by a pink neon light in my pink bits .

Some people might ask why I let such a ridiculous dare even be considered. Where are my morals? My dignity?

It's just a vagina, for fuck's sake. People waste too much time panicking over their genitalia—it's not like they have razor-sharp teeth and a thirst for blood. And the quicker people accept their sexuality and needs, the better it is. If you're in control, there's less chance that someone will take advantage of it. Let's face it… there are plenty of people out there who would take your hesitation and fear and use it for their own victory and repulsive needs. But at the end of the day, sex is just sex. It's as normal as it comes… No pun intended.

We shouldn't feel ashamed to want to be touched, to feel wanted— to feel beautiful . And we should always get a say in our own autonomy and choices.

I'm not ignorant though. I know what people say about strong-willed women who know what they want—the slurs painted on us while our male counterparts receive all the glory. That's just bullshit if you ask me. If a guy has sex, he's a legend. But if a woman does it…

But back to the point and my current dilemma.

Unfortunately, the sole photo capturing the dare had made its way into the wrong hands and now there must be consequences. But when I say unfortunately , I don't mean for me.

"Find Joshua and bring him to me," I say, handing the cell phone back to Archie.

Arch pockets the black device, giving a stern nod as his hazel eyes scan my unbothered face. "I'll go find him now."

"Good," I reply, slipping one of the black hair ties off my wrist and pulling my dark purple hair back into a high-arched ponytail. If memory serves me, the name on the dye box was called Midnight Royal . Like any woman who loves to accessorize, I matched my fingernails to it tonight. The violet painted tips are curved into a classic almond shape, perfect for gorging out eyes if need be—especially here .

The abandoned warehouse off seventeenth and south is lit up with strobe lights, a smoky mist hanging above everyone's heads. The haze is a mixture of cigarettes, vapes, and if my senses are correct… cigars?

I'm not sure what fancy fucks thought they would be able to show off with Lonsdales and Panatelas, but in here during fight night, money means nothing.

Maybe in central Ridgeview Valley or on the Willowbrook side it can be used as a weapon, but in the dusty, dark confines of the warehouse, there's something else we value a lot more.

Tenacity. Strength. Power.

We call this the lawless land. On the outskirts of the city, along the border just before the cavernous mountains that travel for miles, the warehouse is pretty much smack-bang in the center of Ridgeview Valley.

It’s also just a mile away from the damn miniature crater that our town celebrates. Or is it commemorates? Either way, I suppose Ridgeview Valley doesn’t have much more to offer once you’ve visited the caves and deep canyon if your cardio is up to the challenge.

I did it once–freshman year. Before needing three business days to recover.

But the canyon and au naturel views aren’t the town’s pride and joy. Once a year, the mayor likes to throw an event to remember the day a random piece of space junk smashed into Ridgeview Valley.

It didn’t kill anyone, but it did leave a lasting mark in the form of a small dent in the CBD. No doubt the town could have fixed it–but why waste the opportunity to attract tourists for extra cash?

Come see our three by three hole in the ground! Suitable for all ages!

If you searched up Ridgeview Valley on Google Earth, you could almost draw a straight line from the hole to the warehouse. And to appease the symmetrical Gods, the lawless land sits perfectly centered between the Cedar Heights and Willowbrook Academies.

Therefore, we have shared custody of this renovator’s dream.

But it's the perfect place to do what we want and what we do best—fight. The abandoned warehouse was repurposed back in 1984 to give the rival crews a safe space to burn off steam and test our power against our rivals. Let's face it… no one wants brawls in the streets where innocent people might get caught up in it.

It sounds barbaric–criminal even. But we’re not bad people. We just follow the long standing feud and our elders wanted a place to safely fight it out if we needed–under control and with rules of course. And we all abide by them.

Outside of this building, we keep to our own spaces, turning a blind eye on the street if we see our sworn enemies, aside from snarky remarks and the occasional middle finger.

In the center of the room, where the haze of the smoke lingers around the top, the makeshift cage stands. The rusty circular fencing has long lost all its paint, but if you look closely, dried blood clings to the metal giving it a splash of color. It's been here for at least a decade, with various monetary and material donations from both sides keeping it in somewhat decent condition. I mean, how many times can a body be slammed against wire before it starts to buckle and weaken? But I guess it beats the alternative of fighting old school, where everyone just stood around in a circle. I’ve heard past stories of one-on-one scraps that turned into all-out group brawls before they finally put a cage in the warehouse.

Among the sea of blue and white, I spot an argument forming between a few people, but it's quickly dissolved by the cops standing by. Only, it's hard to tell they are cops, dressed in all-black casual wear.

Former members of Cedar Heights Academy and Willowbrook Academy, they kindly dedicate their time to their old stomping grounds. Some might say they are corrupt for engaging in what a normal person would describe as illegal activities, but I would argue it's a community service. Outside of here, we’re all model citizens.

I'm surrounded by the crowd of blue jerseys—my fellow classmates from Cedar Heights Academy. Across the room, it’s a different color scheme–stark white attire with black writing. It's laughable, utterly fucking ridiculous even—a color used to depict purity and innocence… two words you would never associate with the assholes of Willowbrook.

Somewhere in the middle of the room around the cage, that's where things start to get a little mixed up . People from the rival schools pass each other as they head to the restrooms or drinks line, no clear barrier between the two groups. We co-exist mostly in peace while we wait for the scheduled fights to start. But even through the large crowd, I can spot them easily.

The so-called Kings of Willowbrook.

Rylan Astor, Hunter Lannister, and Tai Beckett.

On their side of the room, they've set up makeshift thrones—if you can even call it that. Made from chunks of metal, barbed wire, and oak, the three of them sit a foot and a half above their people—staring down at them like self-proclaimed Gods among men.

They aren't Gods though. They are Devils—evil in poor disguise.

As if sensing my heated hatred coming his way, a pair of baby blue eyes snap in my direction. His lips curl into a smirk, fingers dressed in silver rings strumming along his jaw.

Rylan Astor is the bane of my existence. Wait, that's far too polite.

He's an abomination, an odium to my very being.

A dash of moving light reflects little hints of caramel in his dark brown hair as he turns to his left, responding to something Hunter has said.

If there was ever a walking contradiction, it would be Hunter Lannister. His sharp forest green eyes never miss a single thing, but he loves to pretend to be naive. An apex predator, he will lure you in with false pretenses, waiting for the perfect moment to strike when your back is turned.

I can only assume that's why he's dyed the tips of his jet-black hair red—to warn people that he's not afraid to spill blood.

Well, neither am I.

Hunter's father might be the dean of Willowbrook Academy, but while that doesn't give him an exact automatic pass to do whatever he likes, he does grab the nepotism perks by the balls. Which is why he's a conniving snake.

You'd be stupid to fall for his charms and good looks. Designed to be the perfect predator, he will draw you in until you slowly suffocate to death.

But despite all their questionable doings, they are well protected. People often make the mistake of thinking Hunter is the number one threat in their group, but I'd argue they are all equally fucked up.

Rylan definitely snapped that title up with ease a few years ago. His father, Max Astor, is the mayor of Ridgeview Valley. At least until the next election in a few months.

It was a close count in numbers, but I have no doubt it will swing back to us again. It's never a popularity contest—just merely a battle of numbers. And a whole bunch of us from Cedar Heights just turned eighteen and we're ready to flip the numbers as soon as we get the chance.

It's easy to tell I'm the current topic of their conversation, the two of them watching me closely. They don't even bother to hide it. And of course, their attention and heated whispers grab the awareness of the third member of their little kingdom.

Tai Beckett looks over, finding me easily in the sea of blue, a wide smile flashing my way. Some days, I would love nothing more than to wipe that smug look off his face.

Pushing his ashy silver hair back, I can't help but notice his fingertips as his eyes scan over me. His black nails match his soul–I guess he can accessorize too.

His hazel eyes are more on the green side, but close up, there’s specks of orange and blue around the irises.

When he doesn’t shift his gaze from me, I lift my hand, slowly raising my middle finger shamelessly at him.

After I fell down the Wikipedia rabbit hole and learned that purple was the color of royalty, I decided to adopt it for the foreseeable future. Unlike them, I don't need a dick to rule—let alone three. I'm strong enough to hold that title on my own.

Rylan raises an eyebrow, amused at the exchange between Tai and I. But I stop wasting my energy on them when a body is shoved toward me.

Joshua falls down onto the concrete floor with a heavy smack, groaning for a brief second before pushing quickly to his feet. Archie remains behind him, blocking the escape with his arms folded.

"Joshua," I start firmly, folding my arms. "Have you been sharing pictures that don't belong to you?"

His eyes snap to mine, trying to keep his expressionless, but panic quickly flashes back at me. "I didn't realize it was your cunt," he answers defensively. "I just found it… amusing."

Liar liar. I bet this asshole jerked off to my photo at least five times.

"Right," I mock-agree. "And how did you even obtain the photo in the first place?"

Creases form around his eyes, a telling sign of rising fear as he tries to pull a lie from his puckered funnel of doom. After this, I would recommend he visit the doctor because it can’t be healthy to have shit coming out of your mouth.

"It was sent to me anonymously," he says quickly— too quickly .

When I smile slyly, a few people step back.

Archie rolls his eyes as Joshua takes in my expression, unsure how to react. He has every reason to be nervous, especially since I know that only one person had that photo. The person who dared me and took it.

Steele is a long-time friend—and my current stress reliever . I know without a doubt he'd never share anything intimate. He’s a good guy, but gets easily distracted and has no password on his cell. What kind of person doesn’t password protect their cell these days? I’m surprised he hasn’t been taken advantage of before now.

The only time that Steele is away from his cell in public is in the locker room. And who is his locker neighbor at the academy? Ahh, that's right. Dear Joshua here.

I raise my hand, looking over my shoulder. I tap the back facing me, watching as Steele turns around, grinning.

"What's up, Bex babe?"

His light brown eyes sparkle but when he takes in my expression, they harden, looking behind me. He pauses on Joshua, a frown appearing as he steps closer to me.

"What did he do?" Steele asks curiously, instinctively tightening the chocolate-colored man-bun on his head like he’s getting ready for a fight.

"Joshua here says that he received a picture of my pussy anonymously," I tell him. "With a glowstick in it."

As the seconds tick by, I'm grossly aware of the circle of people watching our interaction. Some seem perplexed about the glowstick comment, while others appear amused. But Steele's expression darkens, connecting the dots. "You fucker! You went through my phone!"

"I didn't mean to!" Joshua argues, throwing his hands up defensively. "I thought it was mine. It was on the bench."

"Bullshit!" Steele snaps back. "I have an Android, and you have an iPhone. They don't even look the same, you wet, flaccid noodle-fucker."

I place a hand on Steele's chest, holding him back as he takes a step toward his teammate. "I don't like liars, Joshua. And I hate people who share intimate things without consent even more."

"I'm sorry," he mumbles apologetically, colliding with Archie's chest as he steps back. "I won't do it again, I promise."

My eyes flicker to Archie, giving him a nod. "I know you won't. That's why I've taken the liberty of arranging your apology."

Archie smiles, holding in a snort as he braces for what’s coming. Just because I rule alone, it doesn't mean I don't have a right-hand man or see value in having someone watch my back. We’re a family at Cedar, and Arch and I have been friends since elementary school. But in chaos, there still needs to be order. Which is why I have to do this.

"Oh." Joshua sighs with relief. "What can I do for you?"

I nod my head toward the cage. "Since you're such a big, tough man, you're going to fight on behalf of Cedar Heights tonight. I know you won't let me down. It's an honor, after all."

For a linebacker who spends his days shouting aggressive taunts at people, he sure looks like he might piss himself right now. Where's that brute mentality from the field gone? Well, you know what they say… fuck around and you shall find out.

"Wait!" Joshua squeals as Archie starts to push him toward the cage. "Bexley! Please!"

I ignore him, holding in a sigh as I scan the cage to check out his opponent. He won’t do this again–let this be a lesson on behalf of not just me, but all women. And certainly a lesson not to shit where you eat. I do everything I can to protect my people, and he crossed the line when he violated my trust.

Willowbrook's first fighter dances around in circles, trying to boost crowd morale as he waits. If I had to guess, I'd place money on this guy being a jock too—except he's bigger than Joshua.

As much as I hate losing a fight to these assholes, sometimes the lesson you learn and price you pay is more valuable. We can always win the next fight.

Archie pushes Joshua into the cage with a slap of encouragement on the back, closing the door behind him. Instantly, my ears ring as the crowd screams loudly in excitement.

On the other side of the room, Rylan leans forward with interest, locking his eyes on Joshua. His lips twitch into a smile, quickly assessing that our fighter is no match for his. His gaze moves away from the cage, finding me again, probably to gloat.

I give him a sweet smile back, letting him know with a silent message that this was deliberate. Even though I can't hear it, Rylan laughs, slumping back casually in his seat as he turns his attention back to the cage as the bell rings for the fight to start.

I didn’t deliberately give Joshua a losing match–I don’t even know who this other guy is or what his abilities are. But the message is still the same. Don’t fuck over your family.

Fight for them.

As I hoped, Joshua perks up after receiving a solid punch to the cheek. His ego takes over, arms wildly swinging in retaliation as the two guys exchange blows.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Archie pull out his cell, glancing down. The crowd roars as Joshua hits the side of the cage, but I still hear the little "Shit!" that comes from Archie.

Before I can ask what's wrong, he hands me the cell with an open text message from his dad. William Roberts is the fire chief, so instantly I know it’s bad.

Dad: There's a fire at Cedar. We're on scene but it's not looking good. Arson suspected.

The noise of the room fades as I read and re-read the text message. Our school is on fucking fire ? Why would someone do that?

A loud bellow rips me back to the present. Joshua is on his back in the cage, clearly unconscious, while the Willowbrook fighter runs around in victorious circles.

“Send someone to check on Joshua then call your dad,” I direct Arch, handing him back the cell. “We need to find out what happened.”

He nods, pushing his way through the crowd while I turn my attention back to the other side of the room.

Not many people would benefit or get a kick out of burning our school into ashes. Except…

I glance at the three of them suspiciously. Hunter is on his feet, alternating between clapping and pumping his fist into the air while Rylan holds out his hand as someone slaps a wad of notes into it.

But when I look at Tai, I find him staring right back at me. He throws me a wink, my insides burning with rage.

If I find out they are responsible for this, we’re going to war.

Rules be fucking damned.