Ravaged Souls

Ravaged Souls Storm Ridge Academy Book 1 Jhenna Smith Copyright Copyright © 2022 by Jhenna Smith All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Contents Foreword 1. Prologue 2. Chapter 1 3. Chapter 2 4. Chapter 3 5. Chapter 4 6. Chapter 5 7. Chapter 6 8. Chapter 7 9. Chapter 8 10. Chapter 9 11. Chapter 10 12. Chapter 11 13. Chapter 12 14. Chapter 13 15. Chapter 14 16. Chapter 15 17. Chapter 16 18. Chapter 17 19. Chapter 18 20. Chapter 19 21. Chapter 20 22. Chapter 21 23. Chapter 22 24. Chapter 23 25. Chapter 24 26. Chapter 25 27. Chapter 26 28. Chapter 27 29. Chapter 28 30. Chapter 29 31. Chapter 30 32. Chapter 31 33. Chapter 32 34. Chapter 33 35. Chapter 34 36. Chapter 35 37. Chapter 36 38. Chapter 37 39. Chapter 38 40. Chapter 39 41. Chapter 40 42. Chapter 41 43. Chapter 42 44. Chapter 43 45. Chapter 44 46. Chapter 45 47. Chapter 46 48. Chapter 47 49. Chapter 48 50. Chapter 49 51. Chapter 50 Acknowledgments About Author Also By Foreword Warning: This is a dark academy mafia enemies to lovers romance. The contents of this book are dark and contain scenes that may trigger those who are affected by abuse, SA, violence, drugs, dub con etc. If you feel this is too much and you may not be able to handle it, please NAVIGATE AWAY NOW. For those who are ready, buckle up and get ready for one crazy, wild ride. You've been warned… READER DISCRECTION ADVISED Prologue Samara I clocked out from my eight-hour shift at the Gentleman’s Club and counted the tips I made for the night, overly ecstatic that I’d broke over two hundred. Just as soon as I get back home, every bit of it was being stashed away in my money bag with the rest of my cash. I needed to buy a car so I wouldn’t have to ride my fucking bike to get around anymore. “Hey, Samara, how'd you do tonight?” Ginger, one of the strippers who'd worked the main stage tonight asked, her blue eyes lighting up as she spotted yet another hundred-dollar bill jumbled in with the large stack of money in her hands. To be clear, I wasn’t a stripper. While the boss-man overly expressed in my interview how he'd love to see me on stage, shaking my ass, stripping wasn’t my cup of tea. I was just a simple servant who brought food and booze to overaged, horny men and the different gangs who liked to spend hours upon hours in here cheating on their wives almost every night. It was a summer job, only temporary until I could finish my senior year and kiss this disgraceful ass city goodbye. “About two-fifty,” I replied, waving around my pathetic stack of bills before depositing it in my back pocket. Ginger folded what she could of her currency and tucked it safely away in her baby-blue sequined bra, patting the side of her covered tit as if she were petting a dog’s head. She was a beautiful woman in her late twenties. With fire red hair, sparkly blue eyes, and a body like a supermodel, Ginger was every man’s wet dream. Hell, she'd probably be mine too if I’d swung that way. “You want me to give you a ride tonight? I have to sanitize the stage and clean up a little bit, but it shouldn’t take long. I think your bike will fit in my trunk.” This is why I loved Ginger so much. From the time I’d started working here, she immediately befriended me. She looked out for me and in a lot of ways, she was like the sister I never had. She knew all of my problems, my struggles, and in my darkest of times she was just always there, unlike a certain someone I’d rather not talk about right now. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.” She smiled. “You know I love you. Plus, I really don’t like you riding your bike in the middle of the night, especially with the gangs roaming around. Here…” She dug into the other side of her bra and yanked out a set of keys. “You know which car is mine. Go ahead and load up your stuff and come help me finish getting this place cleaned up so we can get the fuck out of here.” “Fine by me.” I plucked the keys from her hand and stalked towards the emergency exit leading to the back alley where I kept my bike hidden behind the dumpsters. If I’d left it out front, it probably would’ve been stolen well before the end of my shift. Storm Ridge Valley wasn’t that bad of a place to live, but the downtown side, where unfortunately the Gentlemen’s Club was located and where I’d grown up, was infected with uninterrupted crime. If you heard gunshots, which was a steady reoccurring thing especially around this time of night, you better fucking run and hide. If not, well, us law-abiding citizens who were just trying to get home safely to our families could end up being on the receiving end of those bullets. I pushed open the back door and grabbed ahold of my bike after squeezing my tiny frame behind the dumpsters. As I peeked my head out and cautiously glanced left to right, I blew out a sigh of relief. The coast was clear. A moment or two later I made it to Ginger's SUV and popped the trunk, letting out a grunt as I lifted my old and rusted, piece of shit bike and carefully deposited it inside. When that small task was handled, I quickly raced back to the alley and re-entered the building, finding Ginger waiting on me with a large basket full of cleaning supplies. About