Page 59 of Chaos at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 2)
I’m not two steps into the parking lot before I realize something’s wrong. The air smells strange, like gasoline and burnt rubber.
“What the hell is—” I start as Aaron reaches out and grabs me by my upper arm, yanking me back and out of the way of a speeding car. Several boys in clown masks lean out the window, chucking Molotov cocktails at the rear windshield of Aaron's van. They smash right through it, turning the vehicle into a blazing inferno within seconds. The fire sweeps over it like a gluttonous demon, gobbling it up with orange tongues and oppressive heat.
“Say hi to Vic for us!” one of the boys shouts as they speed off in fits of laughter.
Meanwhile, the girls scream, the van burns, and people come pouring out of the store to watch.
Guess that's it, isn't it?
This war is officially fucking on.“Hell is empty, and all the devils are here,” Oscar murmurs, frowning as Aaron paces ruts in the freshly mowed grass of his backyard. That’s the first thing he did when we finished with the police and got Vic and Hael to pick us up, mowed his damn lawn. He did it shirtless, too, with a lit joint hanging out of his mouth.
Despite the shitty turn our Friday afternoon has taken, I won’t lie about my panties being soaked from the sight. Sitting in a plastic chair with my knees to my chest, I wrap my arms around my legs and give Oscar a strange look.
Apparently, I’m not the only one here who thinks that was a weird thing to say.
“Dude, what the fuck are you talking about?” Hael asks, shaking his head and shoving his sunglasses up and into his red hair. He had to cut his date with Brittany short, and, since he only has four passenger seats in his car—I rode with Vic on the Harley—he had to drop the bitch off here before he could come to the police station for the girls and Aaron.
Brittany’s inside now, sitting on the couch and scowling as she browses TikTok videos on her phone.
“It’s a Shakespeare quote,” Oscar replies smoothly, clearly annoyed at us for having to explain his intellectual prowess. “Which you’d know if you actually managed to pass your classes. It was a reference, to explain our current situation. Victor?”
Vic is watching Aaron carefully, like he expects him to fly off the handle at any moment and go batshit. He rubs at his chin, proving that he’s already deep in thought.
“Our plans for this weekend don’t change,” he says, and Aaron turns on him, the joint toppling from his parted lips.
“The fuck?” he asks as Callum kicks a leg up onto the plastic table between us and lights up another joint. He offers it up to Aaron, but he’s not paying attention to anyone but Vic.
“We need to be proactive, not reactive,” Vic says, which is probably true. My attention shifts to Aaron. Every fiber of his being screams violence. It’s written in the tenseness of his muscles, the tightness of his jaw, the clench of his teeth. “Next weekend, we will deliver a package to the Ensbrook place. I have something nice in mind.”
“They could’ve hurt the kids,” Aaron snarls, shaking as he bends down to grab his discarded shirt. He drags it over his sweaty face, leaving bits of grass on his skin. I imagine if I were to get close to him, he’d smell like fresh grass and new sweat. My body tingles and I shift uncomfortably in my chair. “They could’ve killed them. Shit, they almost ran Bernadette over.”
Vic glances briefly in my direction, but quickly turns his focus back to Aaron.
“And they’ll pay handsomely for that—in time. If we start reacting to every little thing the Charter Crew does, that means they own us. Unfortunately for them, that’s not the case. We are the masters of this city, Aaron.”
Aaron just scowls, spitting at Vic’s booted feet as he storms past and into the house. He heads straight for the staircase, pounding his way up. Even over the distant buzz of the neighbor’s lawnmowers, I can hear his door slam upstairs.
He’s in his room which, oddly enough, has sort of become my room when I’m here. Not sure what to make of that, but I like sleeping wrapped in his sandalwood and rose scent too much to bring it up lest I get banished to the room with the bunkbeds. Come to think of it though, after my marriage to Vic, I’ll probably be sleeping in the downstairs bedroom with him.
“We’ll need to procure Aaron a new vehicle,” Oscar says absently, one, long finger sliding across the screen of his iPad. “I’ll schedule it for next week, when we deal with Bernadette.”
“Deal with me how?” I ask, but Callum’s smiling, so it can’t be all that bad. He lifts his hand up and flashes me his knuckles with the word HAVOC scrawled across them. He wiggles his fingers at me, and my own hand throbs in response. I cradle it to my chest, desperate to hide the sudden beating of my heart. Somehow, the idea of getting that tattoo makes this all seem more real, like … once I take that step, I can never go back.
