“Listen, Bernadette,” Neil interrupts, smirking as he leans forward, a shimmer in his eyes that says he has me right where he wants me. “If you don't want your little gang to go to jail, you'll shut the fuck up and say yes, sir to every word that comes out of my mouth.”
My entire body goes ice-cold, to the point that I just don't smell blood, I'm choking on it.
“Talk to my girl like that again, and I'll break your face,” Aaron says, and my gaze snaps his direction. My girl? He's like an echo of Vic right now. I don't … hate that though.
“Listen, you little prick, you've got no fucking choice.”
“Watch me,” Aaron says, standing up so fast that he ends up stumbling and slamming into the coffee table. He's dizzy from blood loss; I'm seriously worried about him. I stand up, too, grabbing onto his shoulder as he braces both palms on the table, panting for breath. I need to get some fluids in him, and fast.
“Forgive me if I'm not running in fear,” Neil says as that little rat Kali giggles next to him.
“Tough guy,” she says, playing off her perceived seat of power next to Neil. But she has no idea what Havoc has in store for her. Hell, neither do I. All I know is that if the boys were willing to castrate Donald, Kali is going to suffer just as much.
What was it that Callum said? Her face isn’t pregnant.
Principal Vaughn doesn't look quite so smug, eyes darting from the front door to the back, like he expects trouble. No, no, like he expects Havoc.
“Sit down,” Neil repeats, eyes hardening as he looks at me. “And say yes, sir.”
“Bernadette,” Aaron says, panting as he looks over at me. “Don't do it. We have Neil by the balls; he can't touch us.”
“How?” I ask as Vaughn makes a small sound of protest, wringing his hands as he paces in front of the fireplace. Aaron just glances my way, meeting my eyes, and shaking his head slightly. Fuck. Whatever it is they've got on Neil, I'm not going to like it.
“You said you'd bring them to heel,” Kali demands, standing up from the couch and turning on Neil with a pouty expression on her pretty little face. Is it Neil's baby that she's carrying? “Well, I'm still waiting.”
Neil rises to his feet at the same time I notice movement in the shadows near the staircase and in the small hall by the master bedroom.
“Last chance, Bernadette,” the Thing says, putting his hand on the radio at his hip. “Say it, or I call you and your friend Aaron here in.” He pulls the radio out and pauses as a clicking sound comes from behind his head; it’s the distinct sound of a gun’s hammer being pulled back.
“Don't make your final mistake here, Neil. I'd hate to have to scrub your brains off the walls of Aaron's living room.”
Vic's voice is ice-cold, his full mouth twisted in a dark frown. His purple-black hair is slicked back from his face, still wet from a shower, his makeup wiped clean, clothes fresh and blood-free. As soon as I see him, a dark thrill travels through me, one that tastes like sweet, heavy poison.
“And if you think I'm bluffing, go ahead and test me.”
The fury that lights my stepfather's face scares the crap out of me. He has friends; he has connections.
And he came here for a reason.
“I knew I shouldn't have followed you here,” Vaughn murmurs, still wringing his hands.
“Excellent observation,” Oscar says, suddenly standing behind the principal. A chill traces over my skin. How the fuck did he get in here without me noticing? His gray eyes are focused on the back of Vaughn’s head, his revolver held rock steady in a single hand. He pulls the hammer back and keeps smiling.
Hael swaggers in from the kitchen (I figure he, at least, must've used the exterior door that leads into the laundry room), while Callum slides open the patio door. He has the bat in his hand still and while he’s cleaned up, the weapon’s still stained red.
The energy in that room suffocates me, climbing down my throat like smoke. I find it suddenly hard to breathe.
“Don’t worry, Bernie. Neil’s just a dickless, neutered dog,” Vic reassures me, stone-cold, immovable. But he strikes that chord deep within me, shaking away the ice crystals that cling to my soul. He eats away the numb and leaves me bleeding. Who can staunch that bleeding? Me? Am I supposed to bandage my own emotional wounds? “His hands are tied; we have dirt on him.”
“And why don’t you tell my lovely stepdaughter what, exactly, that is?” Neil asks, turning around to face Victor, not at all concerned about the gun in his face. The way that man smiles, it cuts to the marrow in my bones and rots me from the inside out. Right here, this is the type of person who only gets pleasure from watching others suffer. “You can’t though, can you? Because you’re afraid to.”
