Salt: A Reverse Harem Dark College Romance: Groveton College by Bex Dawn

Author:Bex Dawn [Dawn, Bex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2024-04-29T00:00:00+00:00

18

Careful, Brother. You’re Projecting.

Ozzy

Where is she? Brows furrowed, I check my phone again. Lakelyn hasn't responded to either of my texts, and she bolted from the dining hall twenty minutes ago. Maybe she went to change, or report what happened.

My jaw ticks.

Fucking Amelia.

Violence isn’t usually my go to, but something about seeing Lakelyn hurt in any way, by anyone, makes me fucking murderous. Even worse is that it was by Amelia’s hand. She was humiliated in front of a crowd. It’s only because Ezra practically held me down, spouting bullshit about letting the Riots handle their drama in public and not breaking the facade for a nobody sheep, that I wasn’t tearing the slut tribe to shreds.

I swallow roughly, choking back my irritation all over again.

The Riots and Deviants weren’t something created by us. It was a nickname born from a group of starving artists trying to make their way in a world they have no right to exist in. We showed up to a pompous ass school in ripped jeans, leather, and chains, with bad attitudes and something to prove.

From day one, we were outcasts. Criminals. Punks.

Deviants.

The guys and I were born in the slums of Cedar Ridge. We grew up streets apart, but didn’t meet until four separate tragedies brought us together in foster care. We were quick friends, and over time, became a family. All we’ve had for years is music and each other. That’s why we made the pact to pursue Salt professionally after getting degrees. We could have chosen a smaller school, but King pushed us to have the best. Said it would look better in the future. Promised it would wipe away the inky stain left from our pasts, but all it did was turn our stain into an ocean.

At some point, we decided just to roll with it. Instead of throwing fists at the assholes treating us like street rats, we threw our heads back and laughed. We leaned into the image they painted. If they wanted criminals that incited terror, we’d become something worth fearing. Worth respecting. Worth following.

They just had no idea that’s what we already were.

Then came the Riots. We didn’t pick them. They chose us. At first, we loved it. What eighteen-year-old dudes wouldn’t want a group of hot women constantly down to fuck, hang on us, praise us, fawn over our music? We’d be stupid to pass that shit up. But it’s gotten old.

Now, the four of us are completely over it. Despite what public appearances may allude to, the guys and I haven’t been with any of the Riots in over a year. Not since the night everything blew up in our faces.

Safe to say, the girls are getting restless. Catty.

No. Scratch that. Cunty.

Amelia and her band of bitches act like our girlfriends, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. The only reason we haven’t ended it with them is because unfortunately, they serve a purpose. Though, the longer things drag on, the less important it's becoming.

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