Page 37 of Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 3)
“Come not within the measure of my wrath,” Oscar says, quoting Shakespeare again before he grabs a lamp from a side table and throws it against the wall. We're all very careful not to break the front windows. I mean, we couldn't really hang out in here the rest of the break if we did, right?
We smash the place to pieces, and then we drag the Vincents downstairs to look at it all.
“Do you see what you've done?” Oscar hisses, grabbing Coraleigh's chin in tight fingers and making her look at the destruction. True tears roll down her face, and I almost expect Oscar to lick one off. Instead, he shoves her face away and rises to his feet. “Where is the wine?” he asks, and Hael bounces off to comply, holding up a bottle from a laundry basket that he's filled full of them.
“How about this one?” he asks, turning the bottle over to check the label. “Screaming Eagle, it's called. I Googled it and it says it's worth about twenty-eight hundred bucks.”
“Smash it,” Oscar says, taking over the interaction with the Vincents as I sit on top of the counter, hood still up, baseball bat lying across my knees.
“Wait, wait,” Marcus says as Leigh just quietly cries, her brunette hair stuck to the sides of her face. “We can work this out. There's room for all of us in this thing. We can split our takes with you guys. Half and half. Fifty-fifty.”
“You can be rich,” Leigh pleads as Hael chucks the wine bottle into the big apron sink. It breaks, of course. “Think about it,” she continues, licking her lips as Hael pulls out another bottle.
“This one's in German, so I'm not even gonna try to read it. Aaron?” Hael calls out to my ex-now-current, uh, boyfriend? Anyway, he grins down at his phone before looking up.
“Worth about thirteen and a half thousand bucks, my friend.”
Hael takes it by the neck and slams the end of the bottle into the counter, flooding the floor with liquid.
“No!” Leigh screams, struggling violently in her chair. Isn't it incredible how attached some people are to things? So much so that they'd trade others' lives for more? “Listen to me. You can be out of South Prescott within the month. Alyssa is worth a lot of money. You—you—you—” she stutters as Hael takes out a black bottle and frowns at it.
“This is the cognac,” he says, glancing up at Aaron. “Cost?”
“That one …” Aaron starts, looking it up on his phone as Callum hops up to sit next to me on the counter. “Wow. Thirty-five K.”
“Thirty-five thousand dollars for alcohol?!” Hael chokes out, snorting a laugh. “Well fuck me, we drinkin’ this one, my friends.”
“That was a gift!” Leigh cries out as Hael pulls the glass top off and takes a swig. “Put it down!”
“Damn, that's smooth,” Hael purrs, passing the bottle to Cal. He takes a drink before leaning toward me. It takes me a second to realize what he wants, but as soon as I do, I feel my face flush. My eyes flick to Victor, but he just stares back at me as Leigh screams. My attention shifts to the endless blue of Callum's eyes as I lean in and tilt my head to the side.
The heat of his perfect pink mouth finds mine, but when I lift my fingers to touch his chest and neck, I can feel the roughness of his scars. Perfectly imperfect, I think as he gently parts my lips, stinging my mouth with the burn of the cognac and the heat of his tongue.
We lean into each other as someone tugs the bottle from my hands. I'm too focused in on Callum to notice or care. Oh, shit. Maybe he thought I didn't notice him all these years, that he could sit across from me in that cafeteria and act like he didn't know my name. All of those things are lies.
You square danced with me that day I cried in elementary school. You found me during the eighth-grade dinner dance and encouraged me to join you on the floor. The only reason I remember that day is because of you.
“Bernie,” Cal murmurs, pulling back slightly and touching his forehead to mine. That's a big thing with these boys, all of this touching. I don't think any of us has ever been hugged or cuddled or loved enough. “I told you we'd make them pay, didn't I?”
He leans back enough that I get lost in the blue of his eyes, and then hops down to the floor.
“Give me the knife,” Cal says, gesturing for Aaron to hand it over. Without hesitation, he does. Callum approaches the Vincents and pauses behind them. He then starts to hack their perfect hair off, pressing the blade dangerously close to their skulls. They both scream, like something's actually hurting them, but it's all bullshit.
