I nod, resolute in my determination. My heart thunders in my chest, waiting, anticipating. Sweat drips down my back. Hael makes a sound, and Callum lifts up the mask, but nobody moves.
Vic maintains that ironclad control over my gaze.
“If we take this job, you become ours.” His words hang in the quiet air, almost like a threat, almost like he’s warning me away before we even get started. But he underestimates how deep my determination goes. A slight smile works its way across his lips as the door at the end of the room opens and a troupe of theater geeks—or as close to theater geeks as we get at Prescott High goes—steps in. “Get the fuck out,” Victor says, not bothering to raise his voice or even glance their way. “We’re busy in here.”
There’s absolutely no hesitation from the group as they scramble to obey Victor’s command.
I open my mouth to make some snarky-ass comment, but the words won’t come. Instead, I clamp my lips shut and squeeze my hands into fists at my sides. If I make my palms bleed by squeezing too hard, nobody has to know.
“If we take this job,” Vic repeats, taking a step closer to me, so close that the toes of his boots kiss mine. He touches a finger to my chin and then trails it along the length of my jaw. I’m trembling now, whether in rage or desperate, needy ardor, I’m not sure. Does it matter? “You become one of us, a Havoc Girl.”
I swallow hard.
“Now who’s talking in circles?” I manage to get out, wishing he’d stop touching me, knowing that if I take this deal, he never will. Vic’s smirk deepens, and he leans in, hovering his mouth over mine.
“You’ll do what I say when I say it,” he continues, and I feel myself bristling. I hate being told what to do, hate it with a passion. I’ve been ordered around my whole life, by one person or another, and I haven’t exactly ended up on a bed of roses. “In all areas.” Vic slides his fingers into my hair, and I jerk away. The small act of protest makes him chuckle. “If you want this, you'll be our plaything. You’ll be our accomplice. Bernadette, if you want this, it’s blood in, and blood out. Do you understand that?”
“I—” I start to answer, but Victor cuts me off with a look, all hard lines and dark shadows.
“No. I don’t want an answer yet. Take a few days to think about it, Bernadette. Decide if your life is worth your revenge.” He steps back, and I hear Hael make a noise of protest from the front row.
“For fucking real, Vic? Make her answer now.” Hael stands up and starts toward the stage, but a slow, menacing look from Victor stops him cold, and he curses, backing up with his palms raised.
“Take the week,” Vic repeats, moving away from me and hopping off the edge of the stage, his boots loud on the cement floor. “Because once you give your answer, you can’t take it back.”
“You’ll do what I say when I say it.”
I’m not sure Vic could’ve uttered a single other sentence that would’ve infuriated me quite so much. The sex angle, I expected. In fact, I was almost hoping for it. Sex is easy if you approach it the right way, just two bodies working off their basic instincts. Never mind that I’ve only ever been with a few guys, and even then, only a handful of times. Never mind that one of those guys was Aaron Fadler.
“Shit.” I grab a book off my nightstand and chuck it at the wall as hard as I can. I’m satisfied when it leaves a dent, but that doesn’t push back the anxiety or the worry as I rub my palms over my face. “You’ll be our plaything.” How else am I supposed to interpret that? I’ll be at their beck and call for sex, all five of them. What was it that Vic said, a Havoc Girl?
My skin tingles, and I wrap my arms over my chest. When I was in middle school, I watched them from afar with desperation, always wanting to be a part of their little group, knowing that I never would be. And then sophomore year happened, and no amount of pleading could stop that wave of pain.
Biting my lower lip, I stand up and peep in the bathroom door to make sure that Heather’s still situated in the tub, playing with her toys and reminding me that I not only have a reason to stay, but a reason to fight.
If I make this deal, Neil Pence will pay. I don’t know how, but the Havoc Boys have a certain finesse to their cruelty. It’ll be something good, something worthy of my sister, Pen, and of Heather, and of me …
It’s Saturday night, and I’ve already had plenty of time to think.
I’ll do it.
It doesn’t matter what happens to me, doesn’t matter what Vic or his cronies have in store. I’ll be their plaything. Who cares? I was in love with Aaron once, I’ve been lusting after Vic since … forever. They’re all undeniably gorgeous, if a little cruel for my tastes.
Fuck.
Am I really going to do this? I’ve fought my entire life to keep my body to myself. And trust me, men have tried. Men like the Thing. Men like my temporary foster brother. Men like Principal Vaughn.
But then I hear the front door open, and the Thing’s voice booms from downstairs, sending a shiver down my spine.
There’s nothing worse than him, the ultimate villain in my horror story.
A cop, the son of a well-respected judge, the brother of a prosecutor.
Untouchable, impossible, the epitome of evil.
Whatever it takes to bring him down, I’ll do it.
Even if it means getting in bed with Havoc.
I march into Prescott High on Monday ready to make a deal, but I’m already running late, and the school is on lockdown. I have to check in at the office, wait for the gates to be unlocked, and scurry to my first class. I’ve forgotten that we’re having an active shooter drill, so I spend the next few hours learning how to find random objects around the room and use them as weapons.
My first period teacher isn’t pleased when I suggest ramming a pencil up the shooter’s ass from behind. But at least he doesn’t have to hide his disgust with me for long because the lunch bell rings, and I’m off, searching the campus for Havoc.
“They’re out back by the dumpsters smoking,” Stacey Langford suggests, taking pity on me when she sees me searching the halls. She’s barely spoken a dozen words to me since she got shipped here during sophomore year. I figure she’s just afraid I’ll include her in whatever deal I make with Havoc, and she’ll get her ass kicked. As far as queen bees go, she’s not so bad. The bullying thing isn’t really her angle.
“Thanks.”
I head outside and find five boys in black, smoking cigarettes and sitting around some hot rod car that looks far too fancy for the dirty parking lot. Must belong to Hael. He’s got a serious hard-on for vintage rides.
“Nice car,” I say, and he snorts at me, flicking his cigarette in my direction and standing up with this cocky swagger that makes me grit my teeth. In another school, another life, he’d be the king of the elite, some badass ruling over the high school in preparation for a life of luxury. But that sense of entitlement must’ve been hard-earned because I know Hael Harbin doesn’t have a cent to his name. One time, right after my mother lost the house my dad had bought for her, we spent the night in the same homeless shelter.
“Nice car?” He leans against the roof and taps the cherry red door with his tattooed knuckles, honey-brown eyes glittering. He smells like fresh leather, coconut, and motor oil, a much different scent than Vic. My eyes flick that direction and find him watching me carefully, probably waiting for my answer. He doesn’t think I’ll accept. Well, fuck him. Him and his idiot friends came up with this whole ‘Havoc’ thing. Name the job, hear the price, pay up. I’m going to fulfill my end of the bargain, and for three years now, the Havoc Boys have been fulfilling theirs. “This is a ’67 Camaro. It’s a fucking collectible.”