Page 28 of Chaos at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 2)
“That's what happened, Bernadette. We met up to discuss your price. They fought against me. They demanded we give you some bullshit, made-up price, some nonsense.” He laughs again, and the sound is that of a villain, staking his claim on the princess’ heart. Just like Callum. None of these boys are princes, not even Aaron. “We could've … no, no …” He rubs at his chin for a moment, the HAVOC tattoo on his knuckles making me shiver. No part of me believes I'm exempt from having that mark needled into my skin. “We would've done all the things you asked of us, and then set you free.”
“What the fuck, Vic?” I ask, backing up until my body is pressed against the fridge. I'm not afraid of him, far from it. I'm fighting the desire to throw myself at him, to tear his shirt off, to open his pants and free his cock. He can't know that I feel that way, not a chance in hell.
“But not me,” he repeats again, stopping to look me dead in the face. There's no sign of humor anywhere in his expression; this is not a joke. “I wanted you here. My love is selfish, Bernadette.”
“Love?” I ask, but Victor just smiles at me. You can only deny reality for so long without it coming back to bite you in the ass.
“I am selfish,” he says, exhaling and then moving forward. He pauses just two feet in front of me. “I could've let you go, but I wanted you here instead, wrapped up in Havoc. Wrapped up in me.” He turns and takes off toward the front door. I try to tell my feet to stay where they are, but I end up scrambling around the corner as he grabs the door handle and then pauses to glance over his shoulder. “So go ahead. Fuck Aaron if you want. I'm sure he'd be better for you than I am.” Victor opens the door and then pauses again, like he's just thought of something. “Better, maybe, but not like me. Nobody will love you the way I do, Bernadette Blackbird.”
Victor leaves out the front door, slamming it behind him.
I wait about three heartbeats before I turn and throw a punch at the wall. It cracks the drywall and leaves my knuckles a bleeding mess, but I don't care. It's better than what I really want to do right now: murder Victor fucking Channing.
“Did you mean what you said?” Aaron asks softly, surprising the hell out of me. Cradling my bloody hand to my chest, I turn around to look at him. He's sitting up now, his right shoulder still swaddled in a white bandage, his green-gold eyes hooded and dark with emotion. “That you love me?”
“Love isn't everything, Aaron,” I quip back, feeling wounded. “They all wanted that for you.” How dare he. How fucking dare he?! Victor pulled me into this mess because he wanted me? How messed-up is that?
I can’t decide if I want to kill him or fuck him right now. Best we just stay away from each other.
“It isn't nothing either,” he replies, exhaling sharply. His eyes drift to my hand, still cradled to my chest, still bleeding. “Are you okay?”
“I just punched a hole in your wall,” I respond dryly, sick at the idea of going back to school on Monday. Of seeing Kyler and Timmy, of knowing their brother is dead because of us. Because of Havoc. “What do you think?”
“I think,” Aaron starts, groaning as he moves to stand up. He barely makes it to his feet before he stumbles, going down to one knee beside the coffee table. If I still had a heart to break, the sight would shatter it. “We really need to talk.”
“No shit,” I murmur, moving over to him and helping him back onto the couch. He slumps into the cushion with a groan, letting his head fall back into the pillows. His eyes are closed, but his teeth are clenched. It's pretty obvious he doesn't like feeling so helpless, but he just needs to give his body time. He'll be back to being an asshole before the week is out. “You need to sit down. I'll … bring you tacos.” I start to turn away, but he curls his fingers around mine and squeezes them tight.
He may as well have wrapped that inked grip around my heart.
“Bernie,” he pleads, and the depth of emotion in his voice makes my heart stutter. I close my eyes against a surge of my own feelings; I'm just not ready to face them all yet. “Please, sit down.”
“The tortillas will get cold,” I argue, even though my hunger pangs have disappeared completely. How can I eat after what Victor just told me? He made me sign my life away in blood, but … he also just told me the other boys didn't want that for me. I'm so confused. What does Oscar care about me? Likely, he just wanted me gone, but Aaron … I look back at him, and our gazes lock. “I can't go to my grandmother's house, not now, not ever,” I tell him for the second time, just to make sure he’s really getting it. I got no response last time, none at all. “You understand that, don’t you?”
