Page 132 of Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 3)
My hand cups the side of her face, and she closes her eyes, leaning into my touch.
“We need to go and show everyone we’re still here, that we’re not worried, that nothing bad is happening. You know how Prescott is; they’re like sharks. One drop of blood and they go into a feeding frenzy. Once we’re there, we can look for Kali or Mitch; we can see if I managed to toast anyone with my little car bomb.” I force a grin, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. Doesn’t matter because Bernie’s are still closed. “If one of them has Aaron or knows anything about his disappearance, we’ll find out.”
Bernadette opens her eyes then to look at me, and I see fury burning deep within her.
Taking Aaron was a bad idea.
Ophelia—if it was her—has just royally pissed my little bird off.
I would hate to be Kali Rose, or Billie Charter, or anyone else that gets in my baby’s way.
She’s going to fuck them up.
“I want a knife, and a gun, and a mask,” she says, rising to her feet. I follow her up as Callum comes down the steps to pause beside us. We exchange a look, but neither of us argues. If she wants those things, she’ll get them. “I am done playing it safe. I don’t care if Sara Young is watching me, or if Constantine suspects we hurt Danny. I’m going to find Kali tonight, and I’m going to torture whatever information I can get out of her. That’s how I want it done. She’s a name on my list, and I’m ready for her ass.”
Bernie storms past me as Vic comes out of his bedroom, watching her as she storms over to the back door and lets herself outside to smoke a joint.
“She’s dangerous as fuck, Vic,” I tell him, and he nods. He knows that. It’s why he loves her; it’s why we all do.
“Good thing I really got her that crown,” he says, and I notice he’s got a box under his arm. “It was supposed to be fun, for her to wear this to the party tonight. But I guess it’ll be just as interesting to see her spill blood in it.” He moves away, and I watch him go.
We have some issues to work out, me and him, but I can happily put those on the backburner to save my friend. Without Aaron, we won’t work. Our group is too tight knit; we each have our own roles to serve. Losing him would be like losing an arm.
“Here,” Cal says, handing me my hunting knife and looking me straight in the face. “I have a feeling you’re going to need this.”
I take the knife from him, and my arm throbs in response. The rumor at Prescott High is that my dad cut me up with this fucking thing. For once, the rumor is right. My father is a monster that deserves to be put in the ground; I’ve just been biding my time with him. Havoc is always busy, and there’s always something that needs doing. Looking at us now it isn’t hard to see that we’re being pushed to the edge of our abilities. But as soon as things slow down—and I know they will—I’m going to deal with my dad.
Bernadette Blackbird isn’t the only one who has a list.
I flip the knife around in my fingers, and then lift the blade to my lips, running my tongue along the side of it for dramatic effect. Cal rolls his eyes at me as Oscar appears at the top of the stairs, but I don’t care. Life has to be fun, or else it isn’t worth living.
And I’m really going to enjoy the look on Ophelia’s face when we snatch Aaron right out from under her. Because I know we will. Because no matter how bad things get, we always recover.
Right?
This time … isn’t allowed to be any different. We’ve all suffered enough tragedy; I’m not sure any of us would survive another.Aaron FadlerThe next time Kali comes back into the room, she has a glass of water with her and some pills. I don’t like the idea of that, especially not after having just seen her drag her dead boyfriend out of the room and throw him down the stairs like so much trash.
She sits down beside me again, holding the pills and the water and watching me like something precious that needs to be locked up and kept a secret. Fuck my life. Her mouth is insanely swollen from what Stacy Langford and her girls did, but there’s also quite a bit of mottled bruising from when Bernadette smashed her face into the locker.
That almost makes me smile.
“I got you some ibuprofen,” she says, leaning forward to place the pills in my mouth. I let her do it, holding them under my tongue and intending to spit them out the first chance that I get. They might actually be painkillers, but also … they might not be. When she tries to get me to sip the water, it dribbles down my chin and soaks my shirt, making her frown. I pray that she’s stupid enough to take one of my arms out of the handcuffs, but I doubt it. She might be crazy, but she isn’t an idiot.
