Page 125 of Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 3)
“I don’t know, Bernie,” Vic says, glancing over his shoulder at me as Oscar texts various crew members on his iPad. “But we’ll find him. Or die trying. That much, at least, I promise you.”
We head to the garage to grab Callum, but instead of just picking him up, the boys boot me out of the car.
“What the hell?” I snarl as Cal stands outside the open passenger door, waiting for me to climb out. Oscar is on the other side, looking impatient and annoyed. It’s very clearly a mask though; he’s terrified for his friend. Nobody has to tell me how bad this situation is; I can see it for myself. “I’m not staying here; I want to look for him with you.”
“Bernadette, I will not ask you again,” Vic growls, turning around in the front passenger seat to look at me. His eyes blaze with dark fury. “Get out of the car or I will drag you out myself.” Hael says nothing, watching the interaction with a deep-set frown. “Bernie,” Victor starts again, closing his eyes and trying to gain control of his temper. He’s good at it, as always, so when he next turns his gaze on me, it’s much calmer. “My mother is going to try to kill you. She is very good at what she does; there’s a reason I’m as ruthless as I am. Now, please get the fuck out of the Mercedes, stay with Oscar, and go home in case Aaron shows up there. We have a dozen guys on the house; it’ll be safe.”
“Vic …” I start, but I know he’s right. With a violent slew of curses, I throw my boots down on the pavement and climb out of the car, slamming the door behind me. The boys are pulling out of the driveway before I even get a chance to turn around, watching them peel out and disappear down the street.
I glance over at Oscar’s pinched expression.
“Please tell me he’s coming back,” I whisper, but it takes Oscar far longer than it should to look over at me and nod.
“He’ll come back,” he says, but he doesn’t sound entirely convinced by his own words.
I close my eyes as he moves up the drive, heading into the office to grab some keys. When he comes back, I open them again and watch as he unlocks the doors to a mustard yellow Chevelle. Without a word, I head over, climb into the passenger seat, and lean my head back.
There is only one thought playing out inside my mind.
Where is Aaron? Where is Aaron? Where the fuck is Aaron?!Aaron FadlerWhen I come to, it’s dark out and I’m lying on my side. Everything fucking hurts. Everything. For a second there, I have no idea where I am or what the fuck is going on. When I try to sit up, I bang my head on something and feel the very first edges of panic start to take over me.
Don’t do that, Aaron, I tell myself, trying to stay calm. The thing is, I’ve got pretty bad claustrophobia, so no matter how logical I try to be with myself, I’m still going to panic. I have no idea where the phobia came from; I’ve had it for as long as I can remember. Dying the way Neil Pence did … that’s like, my worst nightmare. Am in a coffin? I wonder suddenly, feeling around inside the small area where I’m trapped.
But no.
It’s not the right shape, and there’s a pair of jumper cables next to me.
Ah.
A trunk then.
I’m inside of somebody’s fucking trunk.
“What the hell?” I murmur, my heart fluttering wildly in my chest. Don’t do it, Aaron. Don’t panic, man. You got this. You got this. You fucking got this. I squeeze my eyes shut. Not like it matters, since it’s dark as pitch in here, but it helps somehow. Like, it’s supposed to be dark when you close your eyes. It’s not dark because I’m trapped, right?
I take a second with my eyes closed, trying to control my breathing as I adjust my body and then hiss in pain. My right hand goes to my leg and pieces of scattered memories flicker behind my closed lids. Getting pulled out of the Camaro, fists and boots and fighting, blood from someone’s head. I remember getting up and running as fast as I could toward the woods, as per our plan. Get into the woods, get away, meet at the nearest rendezvous point six blocks away.
When I try to remember what happens next, my leg throbs in response and I groan.
That’s right.
Someone hit me with their fucking car.
I remember pain exploding in my leg, but then nothing after that.
I lean my head against the inside of the trunk, the throbbing in my leg increasing as I take note of it. Either I’m still in shock or the injury isn’t too terrible. I move to adjust my legs and end up crying out in pain. Holy fuck. The agony is sharp when I move, but dull if I stay still. I’ve had enough broken bones to figure that could very well be what’s wrong. I don’t feel any wet blood when I touch my leg at least.
