Ryland Academy Rules
Complete Series
Mya West
Contents
Title Page
Beauty and the Bully
Prologue
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
Thomas Winters
The Ritual
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
The Beast-ess
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Beauty and the Bully
Ryland Academy Rules
Book 1
Mya West
Prologue
Thomas Winters
Thomas Winters was careful not to get any blood on himself when he plucked the crumpled white envelope from the hand of the recently deceased. He never liked blood, even if it was him who’d spilled it.
He looked down at the poor young woman and felt a sense of guilt. Winters didn’t always enjoy what he did for a living. She was pretty, but he had orders. Anybody who read the letter, had to be taken care of.
It was odd though. Her name wasn’t on the list of those he had to visit. Nonetheless, she knew of the letter, and had read it, which sealed her fate.
He took out a key from the envelope and slipped it in his dark jogging pants pocket. He unfolded the letter and read:
My name is Noelle Mavin. If you're reading this, I’m dead. Jaxson Davis, Chase Aldridge and Lancelot Cain are not who they appear to be.
Winters had read enough. He took out a cellphone, dialed a number and waited.
“Hello.” A deep voice answered.
It took less than one ring for him to pick up. He was anxious to know the news. It made Winters smile. “It’s me. I’ve got the key and the letter. She did read it.”
The man hummed deeply. “So, did you take care of it?”
“As instructed.” Winters thought about explaining that the young woman wasn’t the person he was looking for but had read the letter. He knew he wouldn't care about the finer details like that. He cared about results, which is why he liked Winter's services.
“Make sure to clean house before you leave.”
“Understood.” Before Winters could say another word, a loud dial tone rang in his ear. Once he had his orders, his superior never stayed on the phone.
Clean house, Winters thought to himself, and laughed. Truly, this house needed cleaning. He looked around the decrepit home. Some of the windows were broken. The floor looked as if it had never been swept. The stove appeared inoperable. Nobody would miss this home.
He wondered briefly, who would miss the young woman.
Autumn Darling. Such a strange name.
He slipped the cellphone in his pocket and to his dismay, saw a speck of blood on his leather glove. His face soured and he walked over to the sink, washing his hands with soap until he felt his gloves were clean.
Winters exited the front door, looking around the neighbourhood before making a full exit. The area looked as disgusting as the home. He walked over to his stolen car, opened the trunk, grabbed two canisters of gasoline.
Two drunks walked past him, laughing hysterically, not even acknowledging Winter's presence. Winters smiled to himself. This would be an easy place to do his business, he thought. Nobody seemed to notice or care about a guy walking around with two gas cans.
Winters spread the gasoline inside the home strategically, saving a quarter of a can for the body. He poured the remaining gas generously over her until there was nothing left. He took off a glove and grabbed a box of matches from his pocket.
Winters looked down at his victim one last time. He was slightly annoyed at her, because of the blood on his glove but he managed to put those feelings aside.
“Goodbye, Darling.” He lit a match, tossed it and made a prompt exit.
Chapter 1
Elle
One Month Prior
I anxiously wait for the social worker to return to his office with paperwork. He seemed like a jovial man when he first introduced himself in the hallway before asking me to join him in the office. I wonder how somebody could look so happy when working with people - well like me.
A picture frame on his desk is slightly tilted in my direction. I turn it and notice the social worker again, smiling, this time accompanied by his two small children and young wife. I smile. I’m not sure if it’s the contagious grins of everyone in the picture, or because it makes me realize how different the social worker is from me.
He isn’t someone who’s experienced true trauma, like most that live here. He probably drove an hour from some small town outside the city, to work with people like me. He’s an outsider trying to pretend to be one of us. Pretending like he could help.
That’s a stupid thought.
I remind myself that he could help. He could literally save me. I hate the idea of being someone in my position. I hate being in his office. I’m the person looking for a hand out. The person needing a new home to live in. He’s my gatekeeper, but who is he to judge?
I suppose dealing with this outsider would be better than going back home. Ever since I turned eighteen, things have gotten worse, much worse.
The night before I was sound asleep, my window partially open. The sounds of the cars passing, sirens blazing, and random shouts were melodic for me, and always have the power to rest my mind enough to drift to sleep. Suddenly I woke as if someone had shoved me hard, but no one was in my room. I calmed myself, realizing I must have had some sort of nightmare and tried to sleep. I tried and listened to the sounds of the street to soothe me back to rest.
It’s the sound of a slow screech that makes me open my eyes again now. The sound stops and I turn my head towards my bedroom door. A wooden chair is tilted under the doorknob and floor, but that doesn’t stop whoever from trying to get inside.
The doorknob turns slowly,
