Page 100 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
People move out of my way as I walk calmly through the crowd, fingering the planchet. I pause right behind Trinity and pretend like I can’t hear Kali Rose-Kennedy speaking to me from beyond the grave.
“Vic might’ve been taunting you on purpose, but what if he were a little serious, too?” her poisonous voice whispers, making me question myself even when, by all rights, I’ve won. We won, right? The Charter Crew is essentially wiped off the face of the earth. My list is nearly done. Yet, I feel like a baby trying to walk for the first time. “Beat her ass the way you wish you’d beaten mine,” Kali hisses.
“Trinity,” I say, and as soon as she turns around, I’m grabbing her by the hair and yanking her forward. She gasps as Vic stops dancing, the rest of the partygoers in the room shocked senseless. This is Prescott High shit, right? Oak Valley Prep, Burberry Prep, Adamson Academy, or any of those other rich ass schools, they don’t know shit about fighting back.
Trinity stumbles along behind me, scratching at my hands, but I just throw her as hard as I can into the edge of the wet bar countertop. There’s a satisfying crack as she stumbles back and lands on her ass, blood pouring from the side of her head. It’s not a bad cut, really, but head wounds bleed like a bitch.
“Trinity!” Nose Job gasps, rushing over to her friend’s side. Several other girls do the same and a row of prep school boys make a line between me and Trinity. It’s enough to make me laugh as I light a cigarette right there in front of them, while they ‘guard’ Trinity from my evil.
“It doesn’t even hurt, it’s fine,” Trinity snarls as her friends fawn over her. She flicks her strange brown gaze over to me. “I want you out of my house,” she continues, letting her friends help her to her feet. Trinity storms over to stand behind the boys, pointing at me from a relatively safe location. “Get out. Now. And you can forget about that annulment.”
“You’re damn straight,” I tell her to her face, pointing with the cigarette. “If I see you touch my man again, I will kill you.”
Nose Job starts to scream at me, but it’s all the usual stuff, things I’ve heard a million times. Diseased slag. Whore. Cunt. Bitch. Slut. White trash. Cum dumpster.
Trinity remains completely silent, which is a million times worse somehow.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, gesturing back at her and then tossing my character card on the ground. “I’m the maid, not the murderer. Try the gardener though. Pretty sure he’s guilty.”
Trinity straightens her dress out, once again surprising me by having much less of a reaction to an assault than you’d expect.
Fuck, that woman is scary.
Her eyes follow me out of the room. All four of the other boys are standing near the door now, watching.
“That was beautifully done,” Oscar murmurs as I pass by him. “She’ll be begging Ophelia for Victor by morning.”
“Excellent,” Vic says, sticking a cigarette between his own lips as I make my way to the front door, suddenly desperate to get the fuck out of that house and away from these people.
And here I’d thought Kali and Mitch were bad.
James aka Jimmy and Trinity are a million times worse.
“So this was your plan?” I ask Vic, turning to look at him and feeling relief pour over me in a wave. “Get me all fired up, so it’d look real?”
“If we accept their deal too easily, it seems like we’re not serious at all. They need to see some resistance before we give in or they’ll be overly suspicious,” Vic explains as Hael moves ahead to hold the front door open for us. I grab my phone on the way by and then pause, taking the entire tray.
“Oh, wicked,” Cal says, grinning as we take the phone of every person at that damn party with us when we leave.
“You have no idea,” I say, looking back at Vic. He’s staring right at me, but I can’t decide if the relief I’m feeling is premature or just right. This guy’s going to be the death of me, I think as I stop Hael just short of opening the car door for me, climbing in and throwing the phones on the floor in my own version of a hissy fit.
Hael seems to know exactly how to cheer me up though, starting the Firebird and then driving nice and slow past the shiny surface of the black Maybach.
Jimmy’s in the front seat, yelling at someone on his phone. Damn it. Means we didn’t get his in the haul. Hael hands me a key and I know without having to ask what he wants from me.
I roll my window down and lean out, keying the length of James’ car as Hael hits the gas and we speed past, leaving through the already open gate at the end of the driveway.
