When I head into the library, there's another set of metal detectors, and a campus security guard in the corner. He's not looking at me though, he's looking at the Havoc Boys, his hand hovering over his stun gun. Not that a stun gun has much of an effect on these assholes anyway. Trust me: I tried it once.
“Bernadette Blackbird.” Oscar Montauk greets me, standing up from his seat and staring down at me through a pair of rectangular-framed glasses. With his dark hair, aristocrat face, and sharp smile, he should be at Oak Valley Prep with all the rich dickheads. The thing is, Oscar Montauk isn't rich, and even if he is tall, and slender, and wears glasses … I once saw him curb stomp a guy. Plus, he's coated in ink and piercings like all the rest of them. They stop at his neck, fingers of color crawling out from under the collar of his shirt. “You've come a long way, from eating dirt and bleeding out on the gym floor, to hiring us. Something tragic must've happened.”
“Seriously fucking tragic,” Vic says, kicking his boots up on the table. I glance over my shoulder, and find the librarian looking our way, like she can barely stop herself from saying something. She knows better though, and eventually she turns away and buries herself in a stack of returned books.
I glance back, from Vic to Callum, from Oscar to Hael. Aaron is missing, but that's not a surprise. I'm glad he's not here anyway. The less I see Aaron, the better.
Memories of fingers gliding down my bare belly makes me shiver. Of lips on my collarbone. Of his body moving inside of mine …
No. No, fuck Aaron.
“Alright, Bernie, sit and talk.” Vic drops his feet to the floor and then kicks a chair out from under the table. He waves his hand, and I take a seat. I'm not worried about anyone listening or overhearing. Even if they do, they won't be able to use my words against me, not without incurring the wrath of the Havoc Boys. Everybody knows how seriously they take their assignments. “And don't talk in circles around us. We don't like that.”
“He should say, we really don't like that,” Oscar tells me, taking a seat on Hael’s other side. Cal is sitting perched on top of another table, eating corn nuts and watching me like he'd very much like to see me run again, so he could hunt me down.
My fingernails dig into my denim-clad thighs.
I look across the table at the four fuck-heads, and I force myself to breathe, closing my eyes for a moment to brace myself. I think of my sister, Heather, and what could happen to her if I don’t do this. The thought calms me, and I open my eyes.
“I need my vengeance; I want my revenge.”
“And that means what, exactly?” Victor asks, cocking his head to one side, his tongue sliding across his lower lip. He cracks his knuckles as he leans back in his chair, his sweatshirt peeling open at the zipper and flashing all the ink on his neck. “Like I said, be direct.”
My eyes flash up to his, those two black pits, endless and full of shadows.
“My life is just a series of failures,” I blurt, hating them, hating them the most, those Havoc Boys. If I could, I'd set them on themselves. The best I can do right now is sic their monstrous cruelty on everyone else. “I want them all rectified.” Victor scowls at me, and I get the idea that I'm still being too cryptic for his liking. “I need you to … torture some people. I mean, like, the way you tortured me.”
I've practiced saying this so many times in the mirror that I don't even flinch.
The lenses of Oscar's glasses flash as he turns to look at me. The shine fades, and I can see the sharp interest in his gray eyes.
“Who, and how many?” he asks, as he glances down the line of Havoc Boys, like he's checking on their reactions. Victor looks interested, Hael looks bored, and Callum is staring at me with a handful of corn nuts in his palm.
“Seven. If we come to an agreement, I'll tell you their names. Not before.”
“Mm.” Victor makes a sound and leans forward. “You know we'll take any deal, no matter how savage, but there's always a price. The question is: what are you willing to pay?”
My voice is strong and clear when I reply.
“Anything.”
Victor smiles at me, and then pauses, looking up and over my shoulder.
“Sorry, I'm late.”
Aw, fuck, it's Aaron. My nostrils flare as he takes a seat across from me, and then freezes, green-gold eyes going wide. He doesn't move, doesn't say anything. We both know what happened between us before.
