Cruel Shame Read online

  Cruel Shame

  Knights of Templar Academy Book Three

  Sofia Daniel

  Copyright © 2020 by Sofia Daniel.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  www.SofiaDaniel.com

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  From Sofia Daniel

  Chapter One

  They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die.

  Not mine.

  At the click of that gun, a kaleidoscope of Elizabeth-related encounters whizzed through my mind—the day she exposed Mr. Burgh as my grandfather, the night she got me dragged naked from my room by the police, and that kiss she had forced on me in the snow.

  Bitterness rose to the back of my throat. Elizabeth Liddell despised, desired, and wanted to destroy me. Yet it was Elizabeth Liddell’s twisted, sneering face that occupied what could be my last moments of life.

  I crouched on the floor as still as death. Shards of broken glass sliced into my forearms, my shins, the soft skin of my wrists and palms.

  The shooter stood behind me like a specter, their excited breaths rasping in the breeze. They grated against my eardrums, each inhale and exhale sending pin-pricks along nerves pulled tight enough to snap.

  My throat spasmed, and I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the next gunshot to blow my brains across the bedroom floor.

  This was no professional. A professional would have shot me from outside the academy, preferably from beyond a large hedge and would be halfway to Glasgow by now.

  “Turn around,” said a familiar voice. It was female, but not Elizabeth’s or her wretched mother’s. “I want to see you.”

  A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead and nestled into the corner of my eye. I clenched my teeth. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair?” she said.

  I clenched my fists and pushed myself up onto my hands and knees. The movement tore open my cuts, making me wince.

  The gun woman stepped out of reach, her feet crunching on the broken glass. “Sit on your ass and place your palms on the floor where I can see them.”

  With my cuts feeling like they’d been doused in vinegar, it was a struggle to maneuver myself into position. Somehow, I managed to clear a small space among the broken glass.

  Myra, the witch-faced girl who followed Elizabeth everywhere, stood in the middle of my room holding a pistol in one hand and a smartphone in the other.

  Sunlight streamed in through the blasted-open window, making the ends of her tawny hair shine like honey. The dry strands frizzed over her large head like a brim, casting shadows over her deep-set eyes.

  She wrinkled her hooked nose with exaggerated disgust and stretched out the hand holding the smartphone. From the pinprick of light next to the camera lens, it looked like she was recording me groveling on the floor.

  Anger rushed through my veins. Shooting at my window was bad enough. Holding me at gunpoint was worse, but recording my humiliation was beyond twisted.

  “Aren’t you in enough trouble already?” I asked.

  Her eyes narrowed. “You framed Elizabeth and me with your stepfather’s cocaine.”

  A dozen denials rose to the back of my throat. She and Elizabeth had been the ones to frame me with cocaine in my first term of Templar Academy. They had also stupidly decided to keep the drugs for themselves to sell to the other girls under the guise of diet products. Now that they’d been caught, they had the nerve to force me to take the blame.

  I wanted to shout all of that in her face, but I clenched my teeth. In any situation involving a gun-toting lunatic, the winner of the argument was the person holding the pistol.

  “What do you want?” I asked instead.

  She lowered the hand holding the gun. “You’re going to tell the truth.”

  “About?”

  “Until you cheated your way into the academy, nobody even smoked a joint.” Her nostrils flared, making her look like a racehorse wearing a wig. “Then you came along with your drugs and sold them to Elizabeth under the guise of a slimming aid.”

  “Right,” I said. “And where do you fit into this scenario?”

  “What are you talking about?” she snapped.

  “You’re taking on a lot of risk for a BFF.” I nodded at the gun. “A stunt like that can get you jailed. What’s in it for you?”

  Her thin lips twisted into a smile. “Elizabeth and I are more than friends.”

  Despite the clattering of my heart, my gossip instincts bubbled to the surface. Part of me longed to tell Myra that Elizabeth had made a move on me during the Christmas break, but self-preservation kicked that part to the back of my mind and told it to shut the fuck up… At least until someone bursted into the room and subdued the gun-toting wench.

  Myra aimed the gun at my head. “Go on. Make your confession.”

  I swallowed hard, my gaze darting to the door. When the fuck was someone going to realize I was in peril? In the distance, another gunshot sounded, and my heart fell.

  As though reading my mind, Myra smirked. “It’s day one of duck-hunting season, and no one is coming to your rescue.”

  “Right.” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

  “Do it.” Myra waved the gun. “Tell us how you tricked Elizabeth into selling cocaine to innocent students.”

  My lips pressed into a thin line. I knew how this scenario would play out. Myra would hand this confession to Elizabeth, who would give it to her precious Uncle Camden, the Deputy Chief Constable of Police Scotland. Then I’d be the one facing drug charges and no one would believe that I’d been forced to confess at gunpoint.

  “Tell the camera what you did,” said Myra.

  Cringing on the broken glass, I stared into the barrel of her gun. It looked like a plastic replica compared to Billy Hancock’s firearms. My gaze wandered to the broken window. No replica could have exacted that much damage.

  Her features pinched, and she bared prominent teeth. “Hand-job, I won’t ask you again.”

  “Alright,” I snapped. “It’s all true.”

  “What is?”

  Sweat gathered on my palms, but I didn’t dare move them in case Myra got nervous and shot me between the eyes. “You’re the one with the gun. Why don’t you tell me?”

  Annoyance flickered across her witchy features. “You’re supposed to make a confession.”

  “I confess.”

  “You’re being vague on purpose.” She drew back the arm holding the gun, looking like she was going to slam its butt against my skull.

  Without meaning to, I flinched. “I’m doing exactly what you
said.”

  My throat dried. No matter how much I wanted to cooperate with Myra, every long-term survival instinct told me it was a bad idea. The Liddells wanted to get rid of me. They were willing to fabricate fake DNA tests and accuse Mr. Burgh of raping his own daughter to conceive me. They would twist anything I said on camera to make sure I didn’t get a penny of their money.

  My jaw clenched. If I condemned myself, how long would it take to prove my innocence? Forever, most probably. And they would both deny that Elizabeth had told Myra to hold me at gunpoint.

  “How far have you gone with Elizabeth?” I asked.

  Myra’s lips tightened. “She isn’t a whore like you.”

  A flare of triumph filled my heart. I would bet any amount that Elizabeth had strung the other girl along. Arching my back and stretching the fabric of my shirt over my chest, I said, “Don’t tell me you’re holding someone at gunpoint for a girl who hasn’t even gone down on you?”

  “Stop being so disgusting!”

  “Did you go down on her?” I asked.

  Myra’s lips parted. “That’s none of your business!”

  That time Elizabeth had pounced on me, I had only escaped her clutches because she thought I wanted to take over the kiss. Elizabeth liked her girls aggressive, and Myra was just the type.

  Tilting my head to the side, I said, “If I had a girlfriend, I wouldn’t lie back and let her do all the work. We’d take it in turns or do a sixty-nine.”

  Myra’s gaze flickered to my thighs. “I expect you’ve done lots of those.”

  “With my boyfriend, yeah.” I raised a shoulder, thinking of the fight I had with Sammy that ended with me stabbing him in the arm. “He discussed a threesome with another girl before I moved up north.”

  “Well, that’s because you’re a slut.” She nodded to herself.

  “It’s better than holding someone at gunpoint for a crumb of affection. Has she even let you see her tits?”

  With a snarl, Myra aimed the gun between my eyes. “Elizabeth was right about you.”

  My stomach dropped. So much for chipping away at her faith in Elizabeth. This stupid cow was so completely under that crazy wench’s thrall that she couldn’t even think straight.

  “Alright.” I placed my palms in the air. “You win. I’ll tell you anything you want.”

  “Right then.” Myra’s gaze lingered on my breasts. “Start with the cocaine you brought into the academy.”

  A knock sounded on the door, and the biggest gust of relieved breath whooshed out of my lungs.

  “Lilah?” asked Orlando from the other side of the door.

  I turned to Myra with my brows raised. “You’d better leave before he comes in and tells the others what you’ve done.”

  “Tell him to go away,” she hissed.

  “I can’t. We’ve got a date.”

  “Lilah, are you in there?” asked Orlando.

  “Just a minute,” I shouted, hoping to convey a little panic in my voice. I turned to Myra and whisper-hissed, “Let me go to the door and tell him to fuck off.”

  “Don’t try anything funny, or I’ll shoot his balls off.”

  Sending her a silent thanks, I gave her a sharp nod. Some of that dirty talk seemed to have seeped through her mind and addled her resolve. “Alright, then.”

  Myra nodded back and stepped out of the doorway’s line of sight.

  This was my chance. As she took another step, I sprang to my feet and rammed my shoulder into her gut, and we both tumbled to the floor.

  Chapter Two

  Myra and I hit the ground in a tangle of limbs, and a gunshot exploded in my eardrum, making one side of my head vibrate. It hit the ceiling, and plaster rained down on our heads.

  “Stupid bitch.” Myra slammed the butt of the pistol against my temple.

  Pain exploded across my skull, but I grabbed her forearm as she twisted it to point the gun in my face. Myra reared up, trying to buck me off her spindly body. I pulled my head back and rammed it in her nose, making her howl.

  The door slammed open, and heavy footsteps hurried toward us.

  “Get back,” Orlando shouted.

  I scrambled off the larger girl’s body, wincing as my cuts tore open. Orlando rushed in front of me and stamped down on her wrist.

  Stiffening, Myra cried out, “Get off me.”

  “Lilah!” Orlando’s hazel eyes blazed with fury. “Are you alright?”

  The tight band of panic around my lungs loosened, allowing me to take several deep breaths. Rolling the stiffness out of my shoulders, I muttered, “Fine, considering.”

  Myra lay amid the glass on the floor, thrashing her limbs like a caught daddy long-legs. Her spindly fingers gripped the pistol as though it was her only chance of escape.

  I swung my foot back, ready to give Myra the kick in the gut she deserved for holding me at gunpoint, but the panic bulging in her eyes made me step away. What was the point of kicking a girl when she’d fallen into the gutter?

  Myra was about to lose everything—her position at the academy, her reputation, and her precious Elizabeth. Elizabeth would sooner discard Myra like a used panty liner than stick by her disgraced friend.

  “You’re hurting my wrist,” Myra shrieked.

  Orlando leaned forward, putting even more weight on her arm. “Let go of the gun.”

  “It’s an air pistol,” she said.

  My mouth dropped open. “What?”

  Tears gathered in the corners of Myra’s eyes. “I wasn’t ever going to kill you. It was just a joke.”

  Nausea crawled up the back of my throat as our struggle on the ground returned with alarming accuracy. At one point, I had stared down the barrel of that gun. “If that hit me at point-blank range, you would have blown off my head.”

  Myra’s mouth went slack, and she stopped struggling. The stupid cow had probably thought she’d been handling something as harmless as a paint gun, but even those caused serious injuries up close.

  Shaking my head, I walked across the room to where I had dropped my phone, dialed nine-nine-nine, and waited for the operator to pass me onto the police.

  “What are you doing?” Myra shrieked.

  “What do you think?” I snapped.

  “You can’t waste their time over a prank.” Her gaze darted to the door, where a small crowd of younger students had gathered.

  As a large amount of the girls had left with Mrs. Campbell, it was mostly younger boys in their short pants, staring open-mouthed at the carnage of blood and broken glass. None of them dared to enter, so I didn’t scream at them to bugger off.

  Orlando turned to me, his eyes softening. “You’re probably going to need stitches for all those lacerations.”

  The woman on the other end of the line took down my details and agreed to send an ambulance along with the police. I glanced around my room and sighed at the broken window, muddy footprints on the white bedspread, and all that glass. This was the second time it had been infiltrated, and no amount of cleaning or air-freshening would get rid of the taint of fear and blood. And Elizabeth had trashed my room in Mr. Burgh’s house.

  A lump formed in my throat. Who the hell did a girl need to kill for some peace? Elizabeth, most likely, but that wretched coke fiend had powerful family members who protected her even more fiercely than Billy Hancock’s Rottweilers.

  “Step away, children,” said Mr. Burgh’s voice from deep within the hall.

  I turned to find him stepping through my doorway, his face slack with grief. At that moment, he looked like an old man about to lose everything. His gaze traveled down my form, taking in the bleeding cuts. After closing his eyes and exhaling a long breath, he turned to Myra, who still hadn’t let go of the gun.

  Fury flashed in his eyes, but he hardened his features and turned to the door, where Miss Harper from Home Economics tried to usher the younger students back to the main building.

  “Miss Highmore,” he said to Myra, “You were supposed to be waiting for your parents in
the sanctuary.”

  “Orlando’s breaking my wrist.” Her face twisted. “Tell him to get off!”

  “Who gave you the gun?” Mr. Burgh barely spared Orlando a glance.

  Myra huffed. “It’s an air pist—”

  “Who gave it to you?” Mr. Burgh barked, startling both Orlando and me with the force of his words.

  Her lips trembled. “I won’t tell.”

  Only one person I knew could reach the academy so quickly, had access to guns, and had enough of a motive to frame me for Elizabeth’s misdeeds. I asked, “Did you call Elizabeth’s mother, too?”

  “Lady Liddell didn’t give me the pistol.” Myra’s voice rose several octaves, confirming my suspicions.

  I stepped back and tore my gaze away from the other girl’s tear-streaked face. “What did she promise you in exchange for murdering me?”

  “She wouldn’t—”

  “Lady Liddell must have known I wouldn’t confess, and she probably guessed you’d end up firing that gun.”

  “It’s an air pistol,” Myra whispered, not sounding so sure.

  “For your sake, it had better be a harmless toy because I intend to press charges against you for threatening my granddaughter.”

  Myra’s face crumpled, and she burst into hiccuping sobs. “Lady Liddell said Elizabeth would be sent away if she got caught with drugs. I offered to take the blame, but she said the archbishop would separate us if I confessed to selling cocaine.”

  Orlando and I exchanged a glance. The longing in his eyes said he wanted to cross the room and wrap me in his arms, but with so many cuts along my arms and legs, I was in no mood to touch anyone.