Page 10 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
“Who wants to bet that Mitch is dead?” Oscar muses, holding his iPad against his chest as he stands just behind and to the left of me. I glance back and our eyes meet, a million unspoken things filtering between us. It’s hard for him, I think, to continue to be a complete asshole when Aaron’s missing. When there’s a possibility we could never see him again. When there’s a chance, however small, that he could be dead. “If he weren’t, Kali wouldn’t be playing with cops, and Vic wouldn’t be talking to Logan right now.”
I turn back to the scene in front of me, but really, as much as I dislike Mitch and find him to be a pathetic imitation of Victor, it’s obvious now that he was the only choice for leader in this group. Logan is like a distant star compared to the sun that is Victor Channing-Blackbird.
My lips almost twitch as I rub my thumb against my wedding ring, but any joy I might’ve felt at the idea that Vic has been legally named Victor Blackbird in the Oregon legal system is diminished by the eclipse that is Aaron’s disappearance.
I can’t hear whatever it is that Victor’s saying because he’s leaned in and put his lips near Logan’s ear. That’s when somebody releases the balloon net about two hours too early, and the DJ cranks up some horrible song—I think it’s the WHATS POPPIN remix by Jack Harlow which, in my opinion, could really use an apostrophe.
Victor grabs Logan by the back of the neck, dragging him toward the door as he flails around and shouts at the top of his lungs. His words are lost in the blur of balloons, the dimming of the overhead lights, and the colored spotlights sweeping across the crowd as Prescott students start to dance, dragging their middle-class and one-percenter cousins into the fray.
We know how to create distractions here at Prescott High, right?
Cops? What cops?
I grab one of the unnamed Charter girls by her hair, yanking so hard that she falls on her ass, and then I drag her toward the exit, too. Pretty sure she’s Logan’s sidepiece. His girlfriend is already after Vic, trying to free her man from his iron grip. We enter the hallway as a group, each of us pulling at least one Charter Crew dickhead along with us. I say at least, because Callum and Hael have two each.
The doors slam closed behind us and a couple Havoc Crew girls use a key to unlock the janitor’s closet, grabbing an old pipe and shoving it through the handle of the door, effectively locking it.
I’d take more interest in them if I weren’t struggling with the bitch on the ground.
“Fuck you, you cunt!” she’s squalling, and even though we have no personal beef, I’m in a mood. I slam her head into the ground the same way I did Billie Charter, and then climb on top of her in my pretty pink skirt with the glittery appliques. My nails, however, are still a glorious matte black with coffin tips.
Seems appropriate.
“Wait, wait, wait!” Logan chokes out when Vic releases him. The other Charter brother stumbles back into a locker, hand around his throat. His girlfriend throws herself against his side, but he’s more focused on the bitch trapped between my thighs.
I backhand her across the face, spattering blood, and pause as Logan lets out a roar of rage. His girlfriend bristles, but she must be aware of Logan’s arrangement with … well, whoever this raven-haired chick is because she doesn’t seem surprised.
Vic lifts his hand, and I pause, sitting back but keeping my thighs clenched tight to keep the girl from squirming away.
The other Havoc Boys release their charges, and we form a stand-off right there in the hallway.
“Where is Mitch?” Victor asks, but Logan is so focused on the bleeding girl underneath me that he isn’t paying attention. Cal pulls a knife from his boot and rushes forward, grabbing Logan’s girlfriend and yanking her away from him. He places the knife against her throat, drawing a single drop of blood, just the way Aaron did with Ophelia. If only … Killing her at the beach house would’ve been risky as fuck, but then, would Aaron be here with us if we had?
“Pick a girl,” Cal growls out, his husky voice low and dangerous. “Which one do you like best, Logan?”
“Listen, I don’t know where my brother is,” Logan says, holding up both hands as his eyes dart between the two women. “He was supposed to be here already.”
“Where was he when you last spoke with him?” Victor asks as the girl underneath me starts to struggle again, and he nods. I hit her in the face, and she screams. I stay my hand and wait, looking up at Logan with one powdered brow quirked. Have to say, my brows are on fucking point tonight.
