Page 40 of Chaos at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 2)
“That's where you're wrong, Bernadette. I'm the boss here, no matter how you feel about it.”
A scowl forms on my lips, and I swing my leg over the side of the bike. Victor grabs my wrist, but I shake him off, spinning to face him with a sneer.
“You might be the boss, but you told me there were no lies in Havoc, no secrets. Tell me then, what did Kali give you guys that was so goddamn special that I deserved to suffer for it?”
“It wasn't just about the price she paid, Bernie,” Vic tells me, turning slowly to look at me as he pulls out another cigarette. Smoking seems to be a nervous tic of his. I must be making him nervous a lot as of late. “It was about you. You were attached to Aaron; you were too attached to us. We needed to show you this wasn't a life you wanted to live.”
I just stare back at him. On the outside, I'm stoic as fuck. On the inside, I feel like I've just been hit with a tidal wave, like cold, frothing waters are raging around me, like my legs could be knocked out from under me at any moment.
“You said you wanted me here, even though nobody else did,” I repeat, trying to understand the inner mechanics of this group. For some stupid reason, I thought I'd pegged their motivations. Silly me. I don't understand Havoc at all.
“After I saw what you'd become, I knew,” Vic says, lighting up and watching the stars flicker to life in the black velvet sky. “I knew we belonged together. Before that, you were too sweet, too soft. This life would've eaten you alive.” He glances my way. “I was willing to let you go. Not anymore. I'm going to marry you, Bernadette.”
My heart stutters in my chest, but I refuse to let Vic get to me, not right now.
Somebody has to stand up to him. It might as well be me.
I cross my arms over my chest, the pulse in my head throbbing as I try to rationalize what he’s just said to me. “It was about you.” They tortured me, not for Kali, but to get rid of me? I can’t decide if that makes the pain I suffered worse … or better?
Goddamn, I must be irreparably broken.
“If you can get Pamela to agree to sign off on it,” I quip back, running my tongue across my lower lip and tasting the waxy texture of my lipstick. “If, after everything I’ve learned in the last few days, I agree to it.” Vic turns to look at me, anger building in his dark gaze. I stare right back at him, and I refuse to flinch. “And if that's the case, then remember, there won't just be a king in Havoc; there'll be a queen.” I turn away before he can respond, shaking as I head across the grass toward the front door.
It's unlocked, so I let myself in, ignoring Aaron's stare as I pass by.
“Welcome back, Bernadette,” he says, but I don't look at him. Instead, I gather Heather from upstairs, promise the girls I'll make good on my promise about the makeup, and head outside to the Camaro.
I need some time away from the boys to think.
Even if it means going home to my worst nightmare.
To fight him, I'll have to become one myself, but I'm not afraid, not anymore.Pamela is waiting for us when we get home, sitting on the living room sofa with a fan of stolen credit cards on the coffee table in front of her, her laptop open beside them. I see an order confirmation from Nordstrom on the screen, thanking her for her fifteen-hundred-dollar purchase. Guess at least one of those stolen Visas had some room on it.
“If you're going to steal credit cards and commit felony fraud, why not get your daughter some new shoes?” I quip as Heather heads up the stairs to her room. The Thing isn't home just yet, but he will be soon. I'm curious to see what his next move will be, now that he knows I'm plotting against him. I'm going to have to be extremely careful for the next few weeks, watch my every move. If I hit him, he'll send me to juvie faster than you can say sociopathic pedophile pig.
“I taught you manners, Bernadette,” Pamela says, lifting her martini to her lips. She rarely drinks, but when she does, her fights with Neil get even worse. They deserve each other. “Don't you talk to me that way.”
“What way?” I ask, coming around the table with my ratty backpack slung over my shoulder. “Like I think you could do better? That you should do better? Why is it okay for you to waltz around in stolen pearls, but you can't at least pinch Heather some new shoes?”
